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momentary tear
Amidst the pallor and the stone-cold grey
I sense a chip in the sculpture
My body preserved for months- maybe years and
I feel the dust of my skin float
Sharp and itchy, into my eyes.
My eyes are blinded by my own entity
And I break from within- my body altogether
Is crushed and ground into this fine mess
Of cement and grey
Churning with the wetness of my eyeballs.
Whatever coldness and dread that reside in me
Firm as a statue, emotionless as a painting
Has not melted away in this heat from within.
A momentary heat, it seems
As if it will all just end in a flash- and I shall be just the same.
My face crumbles- an agonizing pain boils me over
My skin withers as I kick my feet in pain.
A searing pain rushes through the stone
Ebbing away the grey and the numb and
Washing away the concrete.
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I weep and weep and weep and I weep and weep and weep then weep
I weep and weep, and I stare
The shadowy remains of myself ebbs away
And my vision blurs; I stagger and stand
Only for my knees to weaken and my will to crumble
Yet again, like everytime.
I stare and stare
Till my hands and arms do not exist
Till I feel like my own existence is faulty
And until my eyes blur, my breath stirs
Up until I gasp for air.
I weep and weep whilst I write
As for what I write- it cannot ever describe
The strain to hold out one's voice
Or the head-pounding thud to one's side
As I weep and weep, tear-soaked and sodden.
Until my hands quiver and my lips tremble
I cannot stop
And the beauty of it truly is
The pain of it all
Pacifies the pained.
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rainer (spirals)
From 45 to 90, to 180, to 360, 720, 1080, 1440, 1800, 2160, winding, tightening, tightening... I was stunned by pure horror and disgust.
It was a breezy day.
I was visiting the family like I always did on weekends- though it seems I am not a part of it anymore. The death of my brother weighs in on my family more than ever. I feel dizzy as I approach my cousin's house- the green car is parked on the front porch, blindingly fluorescent and vivid.
It was windy.
"Where is ______?" I asked. She averted her eyes and smiled. "Oh, he's at the school, y'know."
"On a Sunday?"
"Yes, dear. He has a lot of work to be done. Being a teacher sure is more hectic than what we think."
It was my cue to stop talking. I was prying into business that wasn't mine- again, we no longer seemed like family. I looked at my aunt- her face pallid and paler than ever; it's been years since I've seen her look like this.
"Where's C̶̠̺̊̎̽̈́̐ȧ̸͖̱̯̦͚͈͍̣̒r̶̛̛̫̼̳͍̲͔͗̍̈r̵͍̒͋̓̊̑̀͆͘͜͠i̵̛̝͖̞̮͂̽͊͐̀͑ě̵̡̠̜̟͎̆͜ͅ?"
"Where's Care?" I asked.
"She's playing outside." Aunt Anna smiled. You can go play with her. She misses you a lot, you know?"
I walked out the front door. The green car was still parked on the porch. ______'s car. It was unnerving for some reason. I closed my eyes and still felt the green car speeding towards me, and in a blinding flash of white, I felt weak. I felt my legs sink into the soil and my body being torn apart. I did not even get a moment to let out a cry or scream as I lay there on the ground, the flash of light dimming into the dark once and for all.
I quickly walked past the car and to the corner of the house. C̶̠̺̊̎̽̈́̐ȧ̸͖̱̯̦͚͈͍̣̒r̶̛̛̫̼̳͍̲͔͗̍̈r̵͍̒͋̓̊̑̀͆͘͜͠i̵̛̝͖̞̮͂̽͊͐̀͑ě̵̡̠̜̟͎̆͜ͅ
Care was all by herself- I felt calm. She was putting her arms up high and jumping around in the direction where the wind blew. The breeze blew inconsistently back and forth to which she spun, from 45 to 90, to 180, to 360, 720, 1080, 1440, 1800, 2160, winding, tightening, tightening...
I was stunned by pure horror and disgust.
___________________________________
Her body spun rapidly- twisting, convulsing, swirling into a tornado of some sort- she spun clockwise, anticlockwise, rotating, revolving all whilst flailing her arms around and screaming at the top of her lungs. I froze.
Her body twisted upwards from her ankles to her neck and for a split second, it almost seemed like her head broke, hanging limply on her side. Her hair seemed suspended in the air- thin strands like the petals of a flower hung afloat.
Her whole body spiralled and spun.
Like a windmill.
#petscop#rainer hammond#daniel hammond#micheal hammond#care nlm#carrie mark#marvin#windmill petscop#writing#literature#journal#poem#feelings#writers#my writing#creative writing#writers on tumblr
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Thickening Blood
The further I go
my hand bleeds through.
Rich drops of maroon
Slides effortlessly through my fingers, motionless.
My veins throb against my skin
Now held taught against my bones, pale as ever.
It seems to me that the pen I hold at ease
Only wants to tear me apart from within.
My fingers were beaded and serene;
Almost as if this is true poetry.
I stare and stare, till it all blurs
Into a beautiful mess of flesh and gore.
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fading into the view
Flung around, mercilessly around and around
And as I stare out into the skies
Fading into black with each second
Flinging around- my vision blurring and sinking to a blur.
Colour seeps out of my skin into the blue
My skin now a pale, luminescent grey
My eyes hollow, cheeks sallow
As I spin endlessly, contorting, twisting, convulsing and dispersing. (1)
My stomach churns and twists- I am sucked inwards
Involuntarily, incessantly, until the very end
And I slip into my own skin while I tear apart
And convulse deeply from within.
My ribs coil inwards, piercing into my lungs
I struggle to breathe; I struggle to turn.
My hair is dry, my teeth no longer opaque
My limbs dotted with everlasting sores.
I shrivel up in the blue typhoons
To be sucked into the whirls and coils of my doom
My body, with each turn, quivers and shifts
Into just half of what I used to be.
Just a mere half- a half and counting, it seems
My body slips into erasure from this existence
And it bleeds, slowly but painfully
Into the big blue voids.
1- Petscop reference of Care spinning round and round by Rainer.
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lady in blue
She had a face so pale
In the twilight, under the dusky indigo streaks of air
It seemed so blue,
And her whole face shone.
Her eyes blinked indefinitely
And her body possessed no rhythm,
Her soul seemed so out of place
With the repeating patterns of the rest of the world.
Her eyes were a lucid, crystalline blue
And she stared and stared into eternity
Her eyes welling up with tears-
Opalescent, crystalline drops of blue.
Her palms lay curved gently on her dress
Her gaunt face shadowed with navy hues
She looked as if she ached all over
And yet, all she did was heave a sigh.
Inspired by the Blue Period of Picasso.
#book#diary#feelings#literature#journal#novelism#novel#poem#pablo picasso#paintings#canvas#painter#art#artwork#artists on tumblr#my art#art style
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Butterfly
I am forever lost in time,
And for all my actions, yet to be,
I shall forever subside, deeper and deeper
Into this treacherous labyrinth of time.
A vicious cycle seems to shadow me
Of all the things yet to be,
Why, I do live as a butterfly waiting
For all the things yet to be.
For every breath I take, I quiver
With just how bad it could be,
I live within my own shadows of this deadly cycle
Of how things shall forever be.
For me, as a fluttering fly
Shall always circle back
To my eternal fate and back
For that is how time shall be.
I flutter here and there, desperately
To find what I must do,
To step out of this horrifying cycle
Of what I am doomed to forever see.
Why is it that no matter what I do,
I always dissolve in this uncanny abyss of time?
Why do I always circle back- not escape
This wretched fate from time?
The lightest flap of my wings, the slight stir of air
Ensures a spot for my deepest misery.
How unfortunate am I, for no matter how I try
I cannot escape this cycle of distress in time.
I stay adrift, swaying in the breeze
But I fear what could be,
So I will my wings to stay still
And yet I still sway, nearing my death.
As time ticks on, I circle back
And each breath takes me to my nearing death.
Each tremble ripples through the breeze
And sways the still leaves.
The butterfly rests its wings and simply succumbs
For I know whatever I do, it shall end in vain
My delicate wings can harness the time, it seems,
Oh, how I wish I weren't blessed with this bane.
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Parallel to me.
Chapter 1- Waking Up.
I wake up from my sleep to find myself stuck in a blurry, distant version of reality. I see my mother in her black dressing gown, seated at the edge of her bed, staring into my eyes.
It was evident I did not exist alongside her.
Well, so what if I did not exist? Until now, I breathed and lived in a world of shades and colors, sounds and rhythms, all things alive and felt. But what is it that I am experiencing now? Am I...dead? No, no, that cannot be. I am very much alive. It seems like I am trapped in a space between life and death.
Existing, but nearly.
I take a step toward the hallway. My vision seems to have numbed exponentially as I travel amongst the misty blur of my life. My life does not exist anymore, for I don't exist. Or do I? What is happening to me?
I have plenty of questions, but my brain seems at ease. Normally, I would be reacting very frantically to this situation. However, I find my transformation quite soothing. It feels like I am finally free with my thoughts and can drift anywhere without a care.
'You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?'
I turned. I saw a figure hovering above me, clearer than the rest of my vision. They resembled me thoroughly, from the body to the face structure. However, there were some changes. For example, their hair was a darker shade of black than mine. My hair glowed blue, while their hair stayed dark, like a void.
"Am I alive?" I asked the figure. It gave me a vague, wry smile.
"No. You just do not exist at the moment."
"Then, where am I?"
The entity smiled at me again. It was clear that it did not want me to know the truth.
"Just follow me." It held out its hand. I raised my palm, bordering the blurry, indistinct outline of the figure...
.
.
.
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What will never die?
I glance at him. Yet again, his face is shrouded in subtle mockery- contempt, towards the entire world. He seems to truly despise his existence to the very core of his being.
He looks as if he does not want to live.
I stare at his limbs- smooth and slender, tanned gold. His hair hangs limply, just like his demeanor. His eyes are anything but real- they are callous and distant, portraying nothing but feelings of nothingness.
He turns his head to face me and smiles. A real smile. It was as if whatever corpse was left of him was alive, back in the world of the living.
Within the small moment wherein our eyes met, it seemed like he wanted to live forever.
It really did.
It has been five months since I met him; it feels as if we have known each other for eternity. What happened to this man for him to be on the verge of his death? What has pushed him beyond the brink, nearly onto the casket of his end?
"I must look stupid." He smiles. A genuine smile. He is lying down on the white spread with his white gown. A cord extends from his wrist to a plastic bag. His face is unshaven and gaunt.
I smile back. My body swells with deep affection toward him.
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too, really."
I clutch the paper tightly to the point it is probably ripped in half.
You were out of my sight, my love. I shall wait for you. Goodbye.
-by your beloved companion and partner.
"This is the letter we found beside him. We are truly sorry."
I took the letter. My eyes traced over the familiar scrawls. His last words on paper seemed shakey.
I... I do not have any words. I saw it coming, and yet I held onto the hope that he'd never die.
He cannot be dead.
But he is.
Till the fluttering innocence of the young love rapidly flitting within us hardens into mature, forbidden love, I shall look at you every day through the crystalline, rose-tinted lens; I am blinded fully by my love for you. And my love, like an unlicensed wine- it shall grow old.
But perhaps quite unlike wine, your eyes shall forever lose the sparkle that it holds, the corner crinkle, the lid crease, and fluttering lashes once they stop staring into my own eyes; the endless yet finite chasms of perception that can see yet cannot be seen.
I love you.
My heart shattered yet again, for he can never read this. I repeatedly reread the letter meant for him till the words ceased looking like words but were strange squiggles on paper.
Even if he doesn't read my letter, I hope he realizes it.
Well, even if I only knew him for a few months, we have opened our souls to each other. I know him too well, and I know he already knows all that I was going to tell him.
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Eyes
I was foolish.
I longingly stared at others- deep black endless chasms, a tunnel of no limits within a confined space. Were they floating? Were these symbols of enigma(pupils) an illusion of a vacuum made out of a biological structure or simply a hole that leads to nowhere?
The light reflects on brown, giving all their eyes a faint glow. Flecks of gold sparkled in the bands of light and dark seen on the eye. The eye seemed as if it were embellished with pure gold.
What makes it all sound much better is that, in the end, I am able to witness the beauty of the eyes by none other than my own.
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Eve
The night sky is clear
With not a single cloud in sight
Yet it seems as if
The heavens were in her mind.
As we sat on the shore
With her back turned to me
The waves that grazed her feet
Seemed to carry away the storm within her.
Her skin aglow in the pale navy hue
Of such a blessed night- it seems,
That the night that day has never been cherished
With a god-like beauty like hers ever before.
She sat, her eyes speckled gold
Her skin radiating a shimmery orange tint
With a slight twinge of pink on her cheeks
And the blinding white of her entity.
The pale blue-white sky
It was adorned by a single, pristine moon
Hidden under a single streak of cloud
How I wonder, how beautiful must her hidden sight be?
She sat with her arms around her knees
Staring unblinkingly into the void of a sky
She fiddled with her braid- long and lank
Which lay undisturbed on her frail back.
As I look into her eyes,
My heart aches with whatever limp poetry resides within me
As everyone stays away from her, afraid of who she is
I sit beside her, for no one else matters to me.
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His feather wings, which I have stared at every time, could carry me away, away to a peaceful abode- possibly Elysium or to the peaks of Olympus or to the erotic mansion of Eros himself- the chains are bound onto Psyche, her arms and feet chained and her soul imprisoned in a place worse than Tartarus and more beautiful than Elysium yet more frightening than the fields of Asphodel.
Eros is all right. He was wounded and was left with a gash that stood distinct on his chest- an allegory? A sign of a broken heart, it seems.
Psyche isn't. Without any physical wear or tear on her skin, here she stands, as beautiful as ever.
But in the face of Aphrodite's wrath, do tell me- how can she ever continue to live?
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931
931
is the room where I shall go
a peaceful abode, it seems
and endless corridor with a sultry breeze
basking in the newfound dawn.
although I am confined in a disguised purgatory
the dandelions and the grass blades, the soaring wind and the clouds
all embrace me, for I am in a place of no suffering
and profound peace.
till the day I die
I shall forget myself
in reality, do I need anyone at all
when I reside in the glory of 931?
youtube
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Still With You.
That faint voice of yours that grazed me
Please call my name one more time
I’m standing still under the frozen light, but
I will walk towards you, step by step
Still with you.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Artistic- Coffeeshop thoughts.
Commotion- the shop was packed and crowded.
Small and circular wooden tables have been crammed in the small shop, along with numerous plush chairs.
A very refreshing atmosphere, with the sharp aroma of coffee beans and tea leaves.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
She sat down on the chair, writing down in her notebook. Her coffee mug was left unattended as she was scribbling away in her little black sketchbook, her face screwed up with concentration.
Would you like something else?
She jumped in her seat. A very confused waiter stood beside her, waiting for her response.
N-Nothing. Thank you.
She smiled at him. He nodded politely and went back to the counter.
"Hi, would you like something else?"
"Yes, please. A blueberry muffin would be great.
I like it here.
"Oh, you do? Well, thanks. This shop is usually crowded, and it is pretty hard to concentrate on studying when I am doing part-time, but I like the atmosphere here."
"I also like the ambiance. It's cozy. I usually come here with my friends. I am also still in school."
"I know, I know. I have noticed you several times."
This was when I met him.
Like a fresh, new flower bud, our relationship blossomed. Bitter-sweet. It was love. In most novels and books, there is a specific explanation for a person to love somebody. I did not have a reason, for I simply fell in love.
He loved me back, oh yes. Walks in the misty, dewy night, the petrichor which seems to be highlighting the rain- it was childish, immature, yet romance is something…different? It’s not cute and sweet, and neither is it mature and adult. It’s more…sophisticated yet personal?
About a year later, he disappeared.
They say he was kidnapped. They say he ran away. They say he was murdered.
The thought of him vanishing into nothingness and the possibility that he still might be alive petrifies me. It’s appalling. The realization and refusals hit deep.
It still puzzles me. I am still waiting for you after fifteen years. I haven’t moved on. I forgot your voice which is now a faint whisper in my mind, but I shall never forget the feeling you gave me whenever you spoke or held me tight.
I am stuck in the dark, for now, so please, send me a sign so I’ll come back into your arms.
A pitch-dark room
I shouldn’t get used to it
But I’m used to it again
The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner
If I don’t have this, I might just fall apart.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Outline- Losing them.
A wide room, a bed, a lamp, and a window, showcase the spectacular and marvelous twilight.
A low, rhythmic noise(which is quite calming) is produced by the air conditioner.
Constant sounds of a weight shifting and moving.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The skyglow didn't seem to fill the room- it remained pitch-dark as if the light refused to enter the window. Though the air conditioner was working, the room felt stuffy.
When will I get to see her again?
I have immersed myself in my mind and tried to escape the reality I am consumed in. Am I a coward for doing so?
It aches physically and makes my mind weary.
She is…gone. Forever. The idea of someone who existed a year ago and now is gone feels…unreal.
With each minute, I am slowly losing my memory of her. How did she feel like? What was her voice like? Why hasn’t she told me anything; I thought we were close? I have so much to say, but when I turn around, she isn’t there.
It felt like the air was choking him, cutting into his ribs. He gasped. The air felt like it was getting thinner.
Does it even matter?
Death doesn’t provoke me anymore because I want to see you now.
They say there is an afterlife, but I don’t trust them.
I know you- I know you’d come back for me, even after putting up a fight.
But you disappeared completely, leaving me in the dark.
I don’t even know anymore. I don’t even know why you left.
It’s an exhausting thought, but I still want to hold onto you.
I fear that I might lose you forever.
It’s the thought of you that keeps me alive.
Because as long as I stay alive, you shall live in my heart.
In a rapturous memory
The rain pours even when I dance alone
By the time this mist clears
I'll run with my feet wet
So hug me then.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Aesthetic- In the car on a rainy night.
Soft murmurings from the radio
The rain splattered onto the glass surface, then pushed away by the oncoming rain.
Heavy breaths and the noise of the engine whirring, followed by squeaks of the wheels skidding in the rain.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The coldness seems to be suspended in the air. Chilly. Yet, her entire body felt warm- a distinct, intimate one, sending ripples toward her heart. She wrapped herself in the blanket and curled her legs- it felt like someone cared for her and loved her.
"How are you feeling?"
She giggled like a schoolgirl. At that moment, she knew that everything was fine. She felt safe and strangely cute, as if she could be the most vulnerable with him.
"Cold. It’s freezing."
He stared at her for a second and turned his eyes to the road ahead.
"I can turn off the air conditioner if you’d like."
"It’s fine. This feels…cozy."
Her voice trailed away. He could sense that she was lost in thoughts.
It remained silent for a while.
"The rain is beautiful. How lightly and swiftly does it capture the exact feelings? It is like singing us a song, but for our eyes."
She smiled.
It is mesmerizing. Each drop of rain is somehow…unique? The pattern in which it falls, the rhythm…everything is so oddly specific.
He snuggled up close to her and pressed himself onto her. He gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.
She smiled at him. She found the right person.
The moon looks lonely
Like it's crying in the bright night sky
Even though I always know the morning will come
I want to stay in your sky like a star
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Overview- Urban skies.
Occasional sounds of cars.
Crickets and owls, hedges, and ivy.
Flickering, dim lights, Twilight illuminating the only two people.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
He handed her a single rose flower. Wine red, but in the night sky and the dim twilight it seemed to be almost black.
She looked at him, puzzled. "For me?"
He nodded with a smile.
She stared suspiciously, then shook her head dismissively. He didn't seem to take it to heart as he smiled determinedly and thrust the flower into her hand.
"I don't understand."
"What don't you understand?" He said sharply, with a firm tone.
She hesitated.
"Why- why me?" She said in the small voice she always spoke in. Calm, timid, yet full of certainty, as if she knows she has always been in the wrong.
"What do you mean?" Said the guy, genuinely startled.
"You know what I mean. Listen. I know you'll just... go away like all the others."
"I'll never do that."
"That’s what everyone says."
He fell silent.
That's right. He got sick of me going on and on about myself.
She felt nauseous. She felt dizzy. She slowly stumbled and sat on the edge of the pavement, face in her palms.
He nestled up close to her and put his arm around her. He felt heavy but in a good sort of way.
She stared at him with raised eyebrows.
"Why do you even put up with me?"
"Listen!" He gripped her shoulders.
He panted and shook his head. It seems that he said more than what he wanted to tell her. She stopped trying to walk crisscross on the pavement and turned fully towards him. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Look, you are making a wrong decision here. Fine, I trust you, but I don’t want to hurt you-"
"Do you love me?"
"What?"
"I said, do you love me?"
She hesitated. He walked towards her. She felt his warmth and flinched.
"Y-yes. I love you."
She looked sideways, attempting to not keep eye contact. He smirked and without a second thought, wrapped his arms firmly around her.
She flinched again.
"You smell like fresh leaves."
She giggled because it sounded too silly, too absurd to be compared to leaves. At first, she was stubborn, but she gave in and hugged him back.
"That is really, really stupid. How dare you compare me to a plant?"
He laughed. She giggled along with him.
"No matter what happens, I will always be there for you. While yes, I find the day beautiful, it is the night that catches my eye- mysterious. Open. Lots to figure out. The moon and the stars adorn the sky. It feels personal. Whatever it is, I want to be the star in your sky."
She was overwhelmed. She kissed him and held onto him tightly as if she would never want to lose him.
Every day, every moment
If I knew this was gonna happen
I would have remembered more of them
When will it be?
If I see you again
I will look into your eyes
And say, "I missed you".
Still With You.
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I wish I were the girl of my poetry.
I wish I were the girl of my own words
The simple words etched onto my paper
The words about the one girl about whom I write
Incessantly, unceasingly, every night.
She seems like me, but she isn't me.
Is it because of the quality of writing I possess?
Or is it simply because I am too far away from her
Too far away from ever being her?
Maybe if I wrote her
In the way I see myself
I shall be able to see
The beauty in myself.
And yet, why is it that I feel belittled
When I write about you?
Is it even possible to envy
A figment of my imagination?
I shut my sight, which drips with stinging tears
I see a vision in the black of my eyes
A figure, standing amid all the dark
Her face aglow;
Very unlike mine own.
Her long eyes and lashes reflected the sunlight into her eyes
In a criss-cross pattern
Leaving behind flashes of light.
Leaving me wretched and alone
In the world of all things wrong
And out of all the wrong, I breathe
Alongside them, as an object of faulty.
A girl adored and loved by all,
Even if she ceases to exist
Outside of my reality.
That girl is loved by all.
I wish I were the girl of my poetry,
The girl who is loved by all,
And not the girl I am now
Who is unloved by all.
How is she, a girl unknown to all
Written so beautifully
And what do I lack
For I am the opposite of what poetry seems to be?
Why am I not written
In the way she seems to be
Why must she change
And not me?
I wish I were the girl of my poetry.
And as I write more about the things I shall never be
I hope one day
I shall be written on paper one day as whatever she could be.
Artwork- Yizheng Ke
Music- Chopin
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She is so pretty <3
Never was a girl ever so pretty
Rewriting my definitions of beauty
I never knew how I’d see my love
In this chaotic mess of beauty.
She wore a flowy sundress the other day,
Her hair was in a sloppy knot, her eyes dead and still
Her face was quite shadowy and scarred; if I say so myself
And yet, my heart skipped a beat.
She seemed to float over, right next to me
And sat delicately, her palm on her pointed chin
With a languished stance that made me wonder
What on earth happened to her?
I looked into her tired eyes, outlined with what appeared to be remnants of her mascara(?)
Now cluttered up on her lashes and smeared partially across her left cheek.
Her thin lips trembled as she let out a gloomy sigh,
Making me wish I had held her tight.
I stare and see her heaving a sigh
Of all the pain she has carried on her back
I wish I could hold her bony hands, for
If I had the courage, I would have.
I do not understand.
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