rainbow words

i like writing but sometimes writing doesn't like me

[wordsandrambling]

i’m trying my best to wipe this condensation off, but the window keeps on fogging up- there’s a glimpse, a line of clarity, where you draw a face, smiling, then it’s gone. i mean, you have me checking my eyesight, but it’s good as ever, i’m just staring into a pool hoping to see a solid reflection, and you keep making waves. you won’t even look over. i’m not religious, but i’m praying that you’ll grab my wrist, drag me in, drown me. anything as long as you want me there. i mean, when we make plans i wait and wait and wait and always hear you’ve done it with someone else. i know i can’t dance the steps you seem to love most. i don’t want to. i wouldn’t, if i could, and you still wouldn’t look, if i could. i don’t know that handshake, and even if i memorise the words, when i’m up on stage their falseness would stick them to the underside of my tongue like glue- i can’t do what others make look so easy. but i always, always heel

[wordsandrambling]

there’s nothing for me here. a joke of romance i don’t want to touch, and feelings- hypothetical, always theoretical- which sound real a bit too much. i’m hanging onto each word hoping you mention a crush. please love someone that isn’t me. i’m hugging you and everyone too, please don’t think it’s just us two.

and now, look here, it’s not just you. her hand in my hair and she’s calling me friend, but the problem with people is they tend to assume it’s romance, please don’t tell me it’s romance, you tell me it’s romance and this has to end.

[wordsandrambling]

my dear this love is not what you had wished for

there’s but a hole, a chasm full of nought.

it’s a losing tennis match- i’ve yet to score

my points are love, just of a different sort.

there’s nothing in my veins to change the end.

the decision’s made; you know i’ll sleep alone

or share with you as long as you’re my friend.

please say you love me, just in a different tone

[wordsandrambling]

a thousand words, a thousand more, a love:

“the only saint whose name had crossed my lips”.

a love of love, but when push comes to shove

a love less of her. i write all the scripts.

i script my love, i plan the poems, i shove

my heart rate up. what comes of love when all

the walls fall down? each night i behove

my heart: do this. with her, in love, do fall.

i play the part, i blush and squirm, proud of

who i’ve become. i love her true. oh, i

must do, i do, with her, i am in love.

i’d fight a bear. for her, i’d hold the sky.

i write the script, i plan it out,

to bring that love, romance, about

[wordsandrambling]

we don’t love in the same way, you’re a tug of war and i’ll let you drag me anywhere

let you drag my insides out for inspection

take what you want, it looks better in your hands.

i know i’m repeating myself but there’s only so many words in the world

i would make a new language for you

but i’m afraid it would just be your name,

freedom sweet, orange, burning a hearth on my tongue

where i want you

i'm reaching but i’m not gonna catch

it’s summer cricket and i flinch when you throw the ball

it’s tug of war and we’re on the same team

(we’re) trying to reel you in a catch:

someone to put your mouth on

i want to say your name without it being a confession

i’m handing you a water bottle for the dirt on your hands

they’re on the rope and we’re on the winning team

and you teach me to cast out the bait

their hands are soft

and i try to love any of them

but i am starving and your name is still an orange in my mouth

you’re pouring my water over your hands, they’re calloused

and i want them on my hips

this isn’t a love story

i’m Queer with a capital Q

and you’re a girl

i want your mouth on my neck

we’re playing tug of war and i fall into your chest,

build a house of your ribs

your name is still burning on my tongue

it is still a confession

i’m lying on my bedroom floor trying to pick you out of my body

you’re stuck in my teeth.

you’ve never touched my mouth.

both of these things are true

i’ve made a language of your name

i’ve made a mess

and i’m lying on my kitchen floor

it’s summer cricket: the ball hits me and you laugh

you don’t understand when i say your name

i help you choose the bait and you reel in a catch.

[wordsandrambling]

but the thing is: she was the only saint whose name had crossed my lips. i would have carved her likeness into my bones, i wanted to feed her my heart because she had already taken it in her fist.

i wait for her outside a corner store. an ice cream truck sings and she comes out holding a packet of seeds. for the birds, she says. i wanted to splay out my veins on the pavement and show her how her laugh had replaced my blood. she looks both ways when crossing the road.

her hands were always cold. when she slept she was a furnace, and she hated hugs from people taller than her. we walk to school surrounded by snow, a crow sits on the iron fence but flies when we get too close. i never held her hand unless she asked me to, fuck, my hands are cold. when her hair was loose i wanted to touch it so i started cracking my knuckles instead.

we would sit with handfuls of grass in our fists and talk about our dream dates. i knew who she was thinking of and she thought she knew me too. i would play her music and hope she wanted me too. i would gladly have burned to keep her warm.

so where do i go from there. my only prayer was her name and i have lost my religion. she tethered me to this body and now a house is no use. how can i ever find home in a person when she built one in my throat. it’s crumbled now but everyone else is a shadow. i found myself in her smile but now i’ll never be lost enough again to discover the whole world in one person

[fordarkmornings]

Fireflies

Daniel Gerhartz (American, b. 1965)

Oil on caanvas

[wordsandrambling]

this house is red, dark with secrets and love and blood spilled. this house is red painted on the walls and stained into the floors, where she held me and where we lay unmoving. the air is filled with red and bright and a restless mood like: run. he yells in red and sighs as if we have placed the world on his shoulders and his breath is red as he says i’m sorry, i didn’t know you’d be this unreasonable, and the stairs are red when you escape. it floods, kettle hot, it pools around your feet and your socks are red. he smiles with teeth sharp as knives stained red and says what do you mean, i look normal, you’re overreacting. the smoke is red in your lungs and everyone is choking but he wraps his hands around your neck as if that’ll save him and he doesn’t stop till you’re red on the floor

[wordsandrambling]

i was not meant for this body. i look at myself and see a stranger, only feel right with my eyes closed in a swimming pool when it feels like nothing is touching my skin. the only familiar is the inside of my mouth, a couple dozen bones i know better than i’ve ever known my face. i free fall through the spaces in my body that are missing from me. pieces of me never there but as familiar as a tooth whose absence leaves you wanting for more

[wordsandrambling]

tags

[wordsandrambling]

come eat my heart if you get hungry, use me as a sacrifice for your salvation. i don’t know how to love without it hurting me. i can’t care without hoping it’ll destroy me. i can only think about how i’d let you tear me limb from limb, how if i were honey i hope you’d swallow me whole. i promise i’ll unravel in your hands- i want nothing more than to fall apart for you and die for love

[wordsandrambling]

do not misunderstand-i was not made to be desired. my limbs are too long for my torso, my mouth too small for my head. i crop my hair short in the camera of a videocall so that no man ever mistakes me for a meal. my teeth are sharp enough to leave a scar. these wrinkles are not carved by rivers but torn into my body with claws. i can take a punch and i still have a scar from the first time i tried to carve an arrow. i was not made for consumption

[wordsandrambling]

can someone please tell me why i feel so empty. i want to write this out of me but the words are made of air and they slip through my hands. i’ve started listening to that podcast again, you know the one from last summer when i could barely get out of bed and felt like i was going to clip through the floor at any moment. when even the sun and ocean could do nothing. i’ve started wearing the shorts from then too. i feel like i’m on a movie set, that i’ll turn to the side and someone will yell “CUT”.

i mean, i’m still talking to my friends. i can still get out of bed, and today i put honey in my tea. i’m not bad, i’m just empty and i don’t understand why

[wordsandrambling]

texts sent to friends when we both should be asleep:

also literally when we’re older can we run away together or just go away we don’t need to have the running away part but can we travel and go to shitty diners in America and go to anywhere you want and can we get a shitty car and drive through Europe and see everything and just be happy and listen to the radio and yell as loud as possible in the countryside when no one is around and then if you want after we can get an apartment together and grow food and it can be calm and we can learn dances and make tea and dance in the kitchen or we can keep traveling I don’t care that much I just wanna live with friends and not have the stress of school and I wanna love life to the extremes

and we can take so so many photos of nature and we can lie in the grass or in the back of a pick up truck and look at the sky and the moon and stars and we can go to museums and art galleries and cafés and we can dress up fancy for no reason

[wordsandrambling]

how do you play truth or dare when you don’t even know yourself i mean i guess blue is my favourite colour because that’s what i’ve been saying for the past three years and that’s how this works right. i don’t really know my three biggest fears and no i promise i’m not saying that just to get out of the question i mean i stay up every night just to check my mum gets back alright from waking the dog so maybe that’s one of my top fears if it counts. i do alright on the questions about what i have done in the past. no i’ve never stolen. yes i’ve had a crush. but even then i don’t remember so much, i think i’m losing pieces of myself and i don’t know how to make it stop. i forget my name sometimes but that’s just funny right and it doesn’t really matter that i need a long pause to remember my age. what if they ask me something more: have you ever been in love? yes i thought so and maybe i was i mean i was drawn to her like a moth to a lamp and she made me feel like i was flying but now it’s not like that and so i don’t know i mean i’m constantly second guessing the past and even present time me i’m sceptical about. what’s the saddest you’ve ever been? this one’s a tough one because how do you tell between sadness and emptiness, i guess to tell you the truth i can’t remember the last time i was sad but that’s just because i don’t know the last time i felt emotion properly i mean i guess i feel things but i can also turn it off way too easily for it to count as full emotions i mean. truth or dare? truth, always truth, i know that at least. we usually end up playing truth or truth anyway- less running around when we’re not supposed to truth: what’s the most embarrassing moment of your life? i don’t know i don’t know i don’t know

[wordsandrambling]

your voice is more familiar than my own has ever been. one word from you and i can breathe again after weeks of drowning. there are others who make me giggle into my pillow but half my heart is yours and i don’t feel whole until i see you. books say that home can be a person but i didn’t get that until i saw your face. as long as you’re here there can be no wrong

[wordsandrambling]

Low key just rejoined tumblr sooo, who should I follow?

for writing? idk many blogs for writing honestly but @inkskinned is great and @i-will-rise-again is the BEST her writing is insane and she’s also just rlly cool