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(reαlly rαɴdoм) poeтry αɴd wrιтιɴɢѕ ι love

not only ed related poetry poems writing writer books

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#1 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:19 PM

just a place to (spam) post my favourite poetry

in because i like re-reading stuff and here i can

find it easily again.



#2 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:29 PM

we survive. our bodies remind us of our failures, creak angry in the rain, tell us whispers of our pasts where blades ran in our dreams and we never remembered to eat; our bodies come with dyed hair and painted fingernails and chewed cuticles, we take longer to stand up and fall asleep. but the night comes hungry and we’ve learned to rely on our heartbeat, on the solid banging of a muscle that reminds us of living, on the aches that come from holding someone tightly, on the raw feeling of first kisses, on mornings and pancakes. our mouths don’t forget cake and our eyes never get tired of sunsets. the night sky is painted with our crying and she always remembers to bring out her best stars when we need something to wish on. and we wish on, on and over, our tongues numb with the words of it or just the feeling of wanting, a prayerful silence to fill the ache we can’t quite name nor swallow nor sate; we beg the moon bring it to us but what the “it” is we haven’t learned the name of yet. 
 
we survive. we skip class for six weeks but show up the seventh even though our feet drag us through floorboards, we undo ourselves from our beds where we mummified ourselves in hatred, we finally take a shower and even manage to sing. we loop our hands around flowers and our bodies around better friends, we glorify the shape of clouds, cling to unopened presents, praise the names of new books. the ringing numb that fills us abates in tidal waves, we splash in the undertow. we know. behind us are footprints of the ugly dance, of the wretched alive-but-undying, of the hillside burial we pictured ourselves coffined in. behind us is a stark white, an unspelled poem, a sheet we noosed and untied and stepped out of. behind us belongs to us, so we keep our noses forwards into the warm black beyond which knows nothing but promise.
 
we survive. we use bleach to clean what won’t unstain and we don’t pour ourselves shotglasses of it. we drink water until we’re belly-full and we laugh louder than the earthquakes we danced in. we hang our arms around the shoulders of lonely loves, we make friends in high places, we crawl up there with them. we learn to love soft and gentle and mouthful, we learn to love the ache for reminding us we’ll always come home, we clutch abalone necklaces and braided hair and lovely, we learn again to filter ourselves through sunlight, to breathe deep even underwater, plant roots deeper, spring heads taller, show teeth wider, be braver, be fighter. we turn ourselves whale big, fill up rooms with our funny, spill over the sides with alive-ness, alive-est, glitter up the space with good vibes and kiss our bad pasts with red gloss because it’s sad that it happened but it wasn’t our fault, we grow up, be bolder, be brighter.
 
we survive. we become survivor.

 

- inkskinned.tumblr.com



#3 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:33 PM

she tells me that cliche again about van gogh and his yellow paint. she says i’m an artist like that. i’ll find my yellow paint. my salvation. how i scoop out hope.

i want to tell her i already have. the ugly things i shove inside myself trying to find happiness even if it kills me. my yellow paint has been entire cakes, has been sixteen shots, has been strangers i kissed and forgot, has been eating too healthy, has been eating nothing at all, has been dark nights i swaddled myself in, has been speeding on black ice, has been everything i could think of that would make me feel anything at all for once in my life. i wonder if i die like this they’ll say it was beautiful. they’ll talk about the poet who used the sharpest things in her life to carve the joy out of herself - they’ll say, oh, she knew it was toxic but she wanted to put the happiness inside of her again. she ate only captain crunch because it reminded her of her childhood, isn’t that so cute? well obviously it’s sad she’s dead but how romantic is it that she loved birds and flowers and once debated eating poison. how will they paint my ending. she unbuckled herself on highways because she wanted to be one with the sky. she refused to look before crossing the road because she believed in fate. she was a wonderful girl and will be missed while we wear socks with her face on them. van gogh ate yellow paint. we say he was trying to put the good back into him. but i’ve eaten until i feel sick. i’ve slammed myself against the ground trying to get death to stick. i know what self harm is when i see it.

- inkskinned.tumblr.com



#4 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:39 PM

when you love the ground, you will always be falling. by six i was used to skinned knees. by seventeen, i was used to empty body. by twenty, it was heartbreak, never long in coming.

i always fell, and always fell for the wrong things. i fell for romantic moments, for a fearless future, for a sky i could never touch. i fell in love with people who were all prickles and no soft spots. i fell in love with falling in love, with being in love, with the idea that one day, i could be loved in return. i loved so hard that my spine cracked with the weight of my heart, i loved so hard that i poured myself into the shape of his hands, her lips, an early grave.

i loved skinny, loved pretty, loved dainty, loved the idea of normal, loved being crazy. loved the darkness in me, loved feeling nothing, loved feeling everything all at once too loudly, loved hurting - of course by that i mean i hated every second of it - but it’s funny after a while you start to love the punch to your sternum that is falling, and yeah, and yeah, and yeah, i fell down into a hole so black that i couldn’t remember how my own skin attached except by cutting it back open

i hate roller coasters. i hate the feeling of the drop. i hate knowing that when the brakes pull, the ride will stop - no, not when my life is a cart screeching downhill

and there’s no way to get off.

 

- inkskinned.tumblr.com



#5 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:41 PM

we are taught disordered eating as a casual mindset. we label foods “safe” and “good,” we label others as “naughty” as something to “run off later,” we have “never” foods and “not healthy enough” foods.

we are taught that a day where we consume certain things has been “a bad day,” when we deny ourselves those treats we’ve “been good today.” some food is “indulgent” and “sinful”. some food is “right” and “pure”.

we aren’t taught to eat healthy food because it’s good for us. we’re taught out of fear of “getting fat”. we surround ourselves with images of already-fit people running, telling ourselves they’re inspirational. we moan over sugary foods that we’re going to “feel so fat later" that we’re “eating terribly”. when we are “good” we are taught to feel prideful, strong, controlled - we’re shown that discipline in eating is at the peak of beauty, of integrity, of intelligence. we point fingers at those who fail to conform, we lord over those who lack our own diligence, we talk about our sixteen day salad-only streak with a smile.

and everywhere we sit in it. we say that we’re only teasing others because we’re worried about their health. we press for a better body no matter how good ours looks. we’re surrounded by images that are often impossible, that are the gift of photoshop and tricky angles - and we are told these are the enviable people, who deserve our attention and praise. we parrot “only this many calories! how wonderful!” into everyday speak, we watch “100 calorie snacks” dance across our tv screens, we are taught fat is ugly. and we cannot be.

we smuggle snacks we eat in secret. we lie about what we ate today. we order salad in front of new people because they make us nervous and we want to come off the right way. we feel victorious when we only have one slice of cake. we are taught to obsess, to inherit black-and-white “good or bad for you,” we go on juice cleanses with friends.

i wonder how many of us have an eating disorder that’s not categorized because it’s normalized. i wonder if the obsession and dedication seems like “the right choice,” “a better lifestyle.” how many people skirt the line between trying to stay healthy and spiraling out of control. how many of us lean on food to feel better and then, after eating, feel worse as a result. how many of us never got that skinny, so we don’t have a problem. and how many just think: this control and anxiety, this is normal. that this disorder is healthy.

 

- inkskinned.tumblr.com



#6 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:42 PM

i feel faded from my own life. i haven’t gone to bed yet and it’s 5:48 in the morning. i want to touch you or an open fire or whatever will hurt me. i want you to crush my throat or crush my dreams. i feel like i’m living in a loop where the end is coming, where the road to ruin is something i swallow, where i’m running out of time while i’m just sitting here. barely feeling anything. watching days tick by and tuck into autumn leaves. i feel like i’m wasting my god-given talents but what’s worse is i don’t know how not to waste them. like i could have been handled drugs sex and money and i’d still be here, doing nothing. just waiting to die or for something to kill me or for you to come home and finish the deed. is it possible to be terrified of death and at the same time a ghost girl who doesn’t care if she’s drowning. asking for a friend. no really. i want to kiss you or cut you or kill myself. and isn’t that all just the same goddamn thing.

 

- inkskinned.tumblr.com



#7 Guest_layla ♡_*

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Posted 17 June 2018 - 12:43 PM

The God’s honest truth is this: 
I wanted to ruin you. It was selfish and it was delicious. 
I wanted you to pick out the bones of me from between your teeth for years after I happened to you. 
And I did happen to you. We made sure of that, didn’t we? 
Happened like the aftermath of some gruesome accident, it was so bloody and raw that you had to stop to look, didn’t you? And then you couldn’t take your eyes off it. 
It was inside of you for as long as you could remember. 
Then you had nightmares about all of that ugliness for days. 
That was how I wanted you, half thrilled and half terrified that you were never going to forget what it looked like. 
That it would be a splinter that never worked itself out of your skin and you’d feel it whenever you brushed against somebody else.
And why should you? When I loved you like that. 
How could you forget? 
My body so full that if the ocean tried to take me, the only thing that would come back up to shore was you. Or a bag full of bones curled around the shape of your name. 
I loved you like how an abscessed tooth beats at the root, incessant and painful and raw. 
I would have swallowed the entire Earth whole if you’d asked me to. 
I would have taken the sky by the corners and ripped it away from the horizon. 
So yes, it was the hungriest I’d ever been. 
It was the most glorious I’d ever been, with you like that 
stomach like a furnace, stomach like a hungry pride of lions. 
Point me in the direction of any God you know and I’ll tell him, 
I’ll get on my knees and beg him to never let you go, 
‘I want to ruin that man. I don’t want him to ever forget me.’
—  Azra.T "Prideful of Lions"  (via 5000letters)




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