lostseawords
lostseawords —
Follow my vent blog entropiceyes, for memes & shit
— The good thing about whispering every name to your heart, Is that it'll never be empty. The bad thing is, There'll never be space enough for your own.
27/M/New England
Sun: Pisces/Aquarius cusp. Moon: Capricorn. Mercury: Aquarius.
Rising: Leo.
I've been published in several poetry books under pseudonyms in the past.
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i’d love to bleed like a tea bag everytime i dipped into a body of water
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It was probably nothing but it felt like the world.
Morrissey, Autobiography (via relatablepoetryandquotes)
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9.29.20
The summer that
I began to leave
I cannot recall
The heat nor
Leaves nor
The Lavandula that
Spilled from my hand
As a mother’s swung
Forth.
Both haphazard
Both bearing yield
Perennially.
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9.17.20
pull out worms from your stomach like the fertile Mesopotamian soil bed until you’ve gone too deep.
now you’re pulling up roots & the venous thing in your hand is your digestive tract.
swallow back down quick before it begins leaking.
you are not yet ready to spill your guts.
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Our love was like the new moon. You couldn’t see it but its there.
s.s. (stephenstilwell)
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2.19.20
& finally
after i had read your heartfelt letter for the thirtieth time
i began massaging shea butter & coconut oil
into my skin each night
sleeping with a hair full of collagen moister
hoping it all would permeate deep enough
in the way dante had sunk through the porous rocks of hell
to soften the walls i had built around my heart
if virgil could be swayed
then perhaps this older, less kind version of myself
could be as well
to allow some sincerity in once again
because i feel as though i’ve let you down
love,
please don’t say i’ve become
something you do not recognize,
dear grasshopper
i am trying & you are no longer here
to press the bottle to my lips
to chirp against my back
i must hold the glass myself & my arms are weak
i can no longer sleep through the night
without your reminder of the morning
my bones have softened & grown tired
my sturdy skeleton has spent too much time wading
in this temporal waterbed
it is time to get up
but i have become one with the reeds
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What is there to explain? Surely you remember how I loved you.
Ivan Bunin, tr. by Richard Hare, from “Dark Avenues & Other Stories,”
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2.19.20
whenever i get like this
you’re always on my mind
because just like happiness
you are something i can’t find
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Each moment of winter is so faint and silent it is a memory even as you live it.
Michael Lee, “Sound Lost in the North”
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2.5.20
an invisible beast rampages through my mind
which is no stronger than a china shop
stay still
stay very still
don’t look at its horns
don’t mind its snarling teeth
it smells cowardice & feeds off fear
so stay still
stay very still
hold your breath if you must
bit your tongue to taste copper
if you move, you die
& right now, while the beast is breathing down your neck
that doesn’t sound like such a bad thing
but when it leaves
& it will leave
the porcelain will be beautiful again
the chimes will sound
& the breeze from an open door will lift the sweat off your brow
so stay still.
stay very still.
don’t give it an inch.
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taylor swift is systematically appropriating lgbtq+ culture & if you support her, block me
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I am infinitely strange to myself.
John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman
(via the-book-diaries)
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Last year I swam through life like a fish through water. Now I’m a dry cork on the surface. I tread water and try to get down into it. Life’s everyday certainties are irrevocably gone. Everything is just pretend.
Daniela Fischerová, from “Fingers Pointing Somewhere Else,” wr. c. 2000
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1.31.20
my mouth is always dry
& my brain is always swollen
my spinal chord is clogged
blocked like my salivary gland
diluting my thoughts through
first a filter of pain
preventing my fornix from
processing anything
the words from my mouth
are hardened by my lack
of vitamin D & salt
like tap water too harsh
to scrub anything clean
i produce too much
too little
like this world is simultaneously
too much
& not enough
in the dreams that do come
i spend the time begging
my ancestors to let me die
without holding resentment
for my lack of life
& fetishization of
hades’ phallic scythe
please let me die,
i am always crying & there are
never tears, i’m sure
my ducts are as stuffed up
with dirt as my soul
the butcher is necessary &
so is the washer
but my screws have always
been loose
you see
my senses fail me & i
am only 25 please
do not hate me if i cannot suffer
this disillusion much longer
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12.7.19
Even the roof of my mouth is cold,
Darling;
My teeth are aching,
My gums, bleeding:
Tongue, numb.
Every inch I move,
Darling,
My shirt rises at my back
For such a lack of you,
Holding me down.
That’s not something lovely though,
Darling,
It’s burning, transforming;
Under the blistering cold of December’s
Snow rises life, & so shall I.
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I will abandon you.
I will soon return to you even more blissful and renew my love with a vivider and more incorruptible love.
Alexander Blok, tr. by Boris Jakim, from Poems of Sophia; “Ante Lucem,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)
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12.7.19
I believe in the death of emotions
The rising of tides & implosion of stars
The god you meet when you face brick
The rubber-banding of your heart with your back against the wall
Mine is a dark, dark sea
Where the artificial has penetrated
God looks me in the eyes through a mirror
I beg my lover to sieve sand through the air, hold the wind just right
The tapping of a clock, the incessant pounding of my anxious digit
If the dark, dark sea is mine then I’d be able to reach down
Pluck it off the lips of feathers & save it from digestion
Knot it into crowns to adorn heads full of softer things than mine
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