insert some poetic shit

Jet | Bisexual | Haha |

[junglejim4322]

How to stop wanting anything tutorial easy

[whtgrssboy]

To anyone who still reads or follows

Hello to all the beloveds who I have known over the years. I am delighted to be able to say that I have began to publish poetry in various zines, both Beloved Zine and Femme Dyke which are both able to be found on my new tumblr. It is @sophieeeikli , and I explore themes of lesbianism and mental health. There is absolutely no pressure, but if you would like to support my poetry I would be more than grateful. This shall be the blog that I use henceforth. 

[whtgrssboy]

So this is the fair-haired man my mother warned me about

All those years ago

The man with limbs like the skeletons of November

The twitching of the autumn ghosts

Here he comes like rain

He will give me pain

But I’ll yearn for it, even so

He turns with angles, smile sharp

You want me to tell you what he’s wearing so I will.

He’s wearing nothing.

He is naked in the snow.

He is all points. His body like a map I can read,

Sprawled over my white bed sheets

I think he might be silver now

Or fingers marred with what I feed him

Spread out like an severed violin bow

His movements bring me pain, just like my mother warned me

All those years ago

But I yearn for him

Even so, even so.

-poem to the red band, by jet eikli

[whtgrssboy]

I am not my bullet wounds, but I am the gun that holds them. I want some one to dust my powder, and tell me ‘you are not a gun, you are this and you are this and this and this and this’. If I could figure my own way out, I would have done it years ago, but now I’m stuck in a cul-de-sac

trying to figure out how to go home.

I can’t be a perfect daughter. I can’t be a perfect son. I can’t even be a perfect fucking transgender. I don’t know how to be queer and I don’t know how to want sex and I don’t know how to love just the right amount. I don’t know how to kiss him and I don’t know how to tell him that I want to kiss him. I don’t know how to want to be lonely.

Do you think God cares about shit like this? I want to love him in my body, to be someone consumable, like Poseidon gone home to Kronos’ stomach cavity. Do you think he cares about cliché? Is my name discussed in English lit, tropes used to discover the way of the word? I want him to love me. I want him to Love Me.

Will there be a time where I don’t haggle for vision, where I am not the losing party? Call me he, I tell them. Call me he, I tell him, when his pulse rate’s guiding me back to life. Call me they, I tell them on the Sunday when everything feels Allwrong. Love me all you want but how can you love what you do not see? I am only one Me. I don’t know if there is a Me to call alive or dead.

How do you argue a right to exist? It’s not about respect! It’s about reality, you fuckwit! How do you present the statistics on compassion? How do I live with the thoughts that someone can never, ever know. They will be dead soon. Soon everyone will be dead, including me.

How will I be buried? What label will they write upon my body?

If I had my way, the priest would call me [redacted]

-[redacted], s. eikli 

[whtgrssboy]

Staying young forever in the hallways of my dreams Nothing good as it splits at the seams Boys with sunsets on their backs Who swam in deep and didn’t look back I was young with those boys back then With the scent of chlorine on my nose and the sting of my youth while i was letting it go I need to stop building walls they say In the memories of those months of May When fall and summer turned me young Back before we all turned numb I hope those boys remember me as I was then Soft before my growing had begun I never want to give them up Wild soft boys who never stopped.

‘Annex’, S.E.Eikli

[whtgrssboy]

They blow up the moon;

A firework in the dark

fragments of light rock

thrown into orbit

we couldn’t be satisfied with looking at the jewel of the solar system

through a telescope.

we weren’t satisfied with looking.

  The oceans never move anymore

the boats are useless now

beneath us the oceans

go

still

and one by one the fish disappear

in dire times i look to the photos of oceans

on Google Images

and they are big

and they dwarf

and they consume

(but no longer)

So i bear my breast for the Naked Sky

and the world around me goes still

the rings around the world

hurtling apologies towards us forever

boom!

boom!

boom goes the moon

boom goes everybody in front of it

she is insatiable in her memory and her misery

‘i existed once!

humans

and your stupid

unquenchable

hatred of distance’

she wishes she could heal

but she can’t stop gnashing her ancient

greek teeth

  At night the streetlamps

are all we have

all we ever had

there are children who are born to

unseeing skies

dead skies

they are carted home

under dead skies

their first sunset falls to

dead skies

every sky is dead

every sky is filled with bone

these days

every dead

fucking

day.

‘what is light?’ You ask

‘beauty’ I reply

The sun sets and we

are alone with all the things we feel

and there is nothing but emptiness and bones

but oh

the stars are beautiful.

- ‘Moonlyte’, s.e.e

[whtgrssboy]

whenever i lie down (lay is only for inanimate objects) i think about all of the liquid of my body, of my guts, curled up in the fragments of my spine; coiled shells towering on top of each other, trying to keep me steady. In my legs, pressed together, my toes just skeletons (beneath an age old bruise that still hurts). 

whenever i stretch out, i think about all that liquid spreading through my entire body. i think of starting my metabolism in bed, everything running except me, everything in my entire body a terrifying whizz of levers and knobs and doors opening. A door in my spine, all the liquids going to work. me, still staying still.

[whtgrssboy]

there’s something to be said for walking to the execution

the pound of synthesisers in your head

the silence as you lay to bed

the subtle urges, the tremor of exclusion

-j.e

[whtgrssboy]

blue eyes

why do you linger on

blue eyes

can you tell me what’s waiting

what timespan we trajectorise

what words the dictionary wants to own

where are your fingers going

where are they curling

where is the lip of the teapot or cream pot

are you calming me or tearing me apart?

i see you like an indie youtube vlogger, the soft zoom on my blue eyes and the slow curl of my smile like an indian flower

ive been listening to the front bottoms for an hour now and los campesinos for even longer

you aint got no back up baby no more ammo in the pack there are matches in the pack tho and you can use those too

the whole world moving on like digestion and the slow thrum of

bassline under the noise

[whtgrssboy]

Tell me, Icarus, What do you seek? Were you looking for the clouds, were you looking for sun? Were you looking for glory or were you trying to run? Tell me, Icarus, What did you want? Were you staring at the stars or were you staring at the sea Tell me which direction you were trying to reach Tell me, Icarus, Did you have too much fun? Did you like the upward climb Do you like the things you find At the bottom of the sand

the search for icarus

[whtgrssboy]

i love the burn i love the pyre turn the heat up lift me higher

S.E Eikli

[whtgrssboy]

whenever i lie down (lay is only for inanimate objects) i think about all of the liquid of my body, of my guts, curled up in the fragments of my spine; coiled shells towering on top of each other, trying to keep me steady. In my legs, pressed together, my toes just skeletons (beneath an age old bruise that still hurts). 

whenever i stretch out, i think about all that liquid spreading through my entire body. i think of starting my metabolism in bed, everything running except me, everything in my entire body a terrifying whizz of levers and knobs and doors opening. A door in my spine, all the liquids going to work. me, still staying still.

[wlw-deactivated20170309]

send me a word and i’ll make a little poem for you.

[whtgrssboy]

i believe that we are neurones inside someone else’s brain, because when you light up so do i, and no matter how far we go we are still connected, and your light will always come back to me.

[whtgrssboy]

And oh my god I wanna see that boy grow old See him become bold at last. I wanna be at his side when at last the sky bleeds red I wanna be at his side when he cannot leave his bed It's all I can do not to chain my limbs to his Oh what can I do with a boy like this

‘system’, s.elsa eikli

[nosebleedclub]

Discussion 4/22/16

1. There is still something worth fighting for 2. Sharp knife field guide 3. Your parent’s guest room is always locked 4. The pond behind the high school 5. Yellow flowers

[whtgrssboy]

1. i’m called ‘a dormant volcano’ but scientists still have to keep updates. sunflowers bloom in Chernobyl but people still can’t. but they defy the laws and breath in the smoke and live longer than the ones that escaped.

2. cold until you reach the hilt. wood with black tape wrapped around the middle. hidden underneath the springs of your bed, waiting for sleep. almost a friend. frenemy is what they call people like that.

3. my fathers name is bluebeard and i have never met my mother.

4. in fairytales the mermaids had to cut their legs themselves. they had to cut their tongues themselves. when they opened their mouth blood came out and they swallowed noise.

5. in renaissance paintings they made the sun look like a flower so that they knew it wouldn’t get too big, that it wouldn’t consume, that it would survive when the rain came

[whtgrssboy]

i can't do this i can't do this I'm not gonna make it through tonight i can't