abyssmal bird

welcome! this is a sideblog where i post my writing, i hope you enjoy it! (they/them)

[16tinyfrogs]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening

[sophoscene]

Oh, my little flower, how you’ve grown into a tree,

Your fruit the very essence of the snake that tempted Eve.

Oh, my little songbird, what a story you may tell,

It’s chords are written from the lines that birthed you deep in Hell.

Oh, my little devil, who can match your lovely face,

Carved by sin and hatred of he who dared spite Grace.

[wayward-birdie]

[Image Description: on a black background there is a crescent moon, below it text reads, "I can't tell what's mine and what's borrowed. What's real and what's sorrow. I can't pry the ache from my bones, I can't find my way home. The world begins to feel too small and yet vast in the next moment. But with all these places are any places different from the spaces just paces from me? My ribcage is shrinking again. Tears in my lungs let out hisses like deflating balloons and soon... Does my world fall in again? Is there any breath in my lungs? Am I just a machine? A doll split apart at the seams? My stuffings falling out, and when I turn my face about I realize: little button eyes wouldn't see through your lies and they sure wouldn't cry. Does that make me human? Is it enough?"

End of text. Below it is dated 2023.11.15]

[ellorypurebloodculture]

If you are reading

This right now, please reblog it

And write a haiku.

[wayward-birdie]

frost creeps in with night

grass still green yet wearing

a cool coat of white

[nosebleedclub]

Do you feel a spiritual presence?

[wayward-birdie]

When the world becomes too much and the echo of water fills my lungs once again. Only then.

Not in the calm, not even in the crying.

But in the dark. When the past grips its claws in my skin and tears at my soul --only then.

When everything hurts and I feel like I'm dying, finally then I feel them.

[nosebleedclub]

Which place(s) won’t you ever go to again?

[paginatedpoetry]

don't you know that you can never go home again? in much the same way you can never go back to the same places exactly as they were which means you can never go back to the places again it becomes something new each time familiar and alien

[wayward-birdie]

take time to rest now lest the pressure of living crush constellations into soft stardust

[wayward-birdie]

from @nosebleedclub august’s prompt xxviii. go to her

Man of stardust, he steps down from his skies, kneeling in front of the girl as she cries.

He whispers to her, “the world can be cruel.” Even though he knows; she has learned that rule.

Still, his presence is more than the words he could say as she asks of him this: “just promise you’ll stay?”

[wayward-birdie]

lightning strikes outside raindrops knock at your window go, dance in the storm

[wayward-birdie]

Image Description: in the shape of the author’s best attempt at a bird, a poem reads:

The loon emerges from her springtime nest. Leaving the safety beside the calm lake shore. With downy chicks resting upon her back, she sings a sweet song to greet the new season. Her melody echoes along the water’s edge and meets the forest as it hums in harmony. Only the trees and the weeds truly know how she goes about her summers they know how she’s cried and they know where she hides when the hunters come ‘round. The sun glints off her dark feathers as she swims in her pond, she teaches us peace in all of its forms for she is a symbol of tranquility and renewed hope. So we follow in her wake as she shows us the way through the trials of summer and the path to relax.

[wayward-birdie]

stand in the darkness change with the face of the moon dance with the starlight

wayward-birdie

[nosebleedclub]

Did it end nicely?

[waywardbird]

it ended with a phone call. tears streaming down my face as my voice broke on the words, “at least I’m not like you.” It ended with rain and a storm that spoke of comfort. Each roll of thunder wrapped its heavy arms around me and promised I would be okay. Every flash of lightning said the same as it swore to keep you at bay. It did not end nicely, not as you cursed my name, but it ended and I am better off for it.

[wayward-birdie]

Magic calls on a Monday night  as the fires of Beltane crackle with life. An heirloom clock ticks the seconds by until we will greet the sunrise.

Let me borrow your light;  hide within the blue of your eyes. I wonder how long this can last before I sabotage myself with the past.

Hold my hand and watch the stars; know that the darkness holds monsters and that you are safe, regardless.

-Birdie

[wayward-birdie]

Rest now, Beloved; the wild rose is still in bloom. Its beauty shines for you alone. The wild rose is still, frozen in fresh snow that shines for you alone. Red upon a blanket of white. Frozen in fresh snow. That one last rose remains red upon a blanket of white. Wilting in the cold. One last rose remains in bloom, its beauty wilting in the cold. Rest now. Be loved.

-wayward-birdie

[nosebleedclub]

Are you the cause of the storm to come?

[wayward-birdie]

The storm clouds gather at the sight of my tears—they’ve been with me, they’ve known me, for all of my years. The thunder rumbles above and the sky cracks at the sound of my sob. I shake and shudder as the cold seeps in my bones. But for all of its power the storm does not strike me with fear, it is safe in the rain, for I have brought it here. Yes, I am the cause of the storm to come. 

[wayward-birdie]

[Photo ID: the background is a yellow to orange gradient, on it is a poem that reads: sunrise inked into my wrist and it insists tomorrow will be better than today but the lines that lay before it say tomorrow’s just more of the same each new days gains its own meaning as hope and dread go head-to-head and dawn’s first light paints the sky

-a credit in the bottom right reads: wayward-birdie. /End ID]

[wayward-birdie]

Life Beneath The Waves

Life Beneath The Waves

Breathe out, bubbles rise from your lips. Breathe in, gills flutter against skin. The world above is loud, a cacophony of sound above the waves, but below it is quiet. Forceful tides will pull and the pressure will build the deeper you dive, yet there is a peace not found on land. It is safe underwater. Even near the top, where humans may still be found. Though, those humans, they bring chaos…

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