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people moving to tumblr from twitter please fucking reblog art likes literally dont do anything except make the artist upset bc they have 2 reblogs and 55 likes
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Self Insert Fanfiction
i feel like a sculptor making art of gods… knowing that i’m just a pampered monkey.
of course theyll look better.
of course ill look like shit.
they’re not human like me
theyre not flawed like me
but why do other people get close?
why do other people get chiseled faces?
why do other people get soft flawless skin?
why do other people get toned bodies?
i know beauty fades in people
unlike these gods that stay beautiful in marble
but ive never been beautiful
i wish i knew how it felt
to be touched like youre art
to be touched like youre a god
maybe thats why i take this chisel and chip away marble
so i can imagine these stony hands holding mine back
so i can imagine these lifeless eyes looking back at mine
so i can imagine that this beauty i made rubs off on me
i know it doesn’t work like that
it doesnt matter
here i am loved
even as a pampered monkey
as long as i make that love for myself
as long as i fake that love for myself
as long as i believe that lie for myself
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OCEANID
You felt like summer
An Apollo, living, breathing
The heat that your touch radiated, its warmth
The sweat I dripped, nervous and terrified
The light you inspired in me, brilliant and good
The infectious vigor of life living through you and into me
And I, perverted and detestable
Leering from under the raging seas
An oceanid burning and squirming
Staring at the summer sun, teary-eyed and clammy handed
Staring at you, distant, cold, and damp
It was a form of self-flagellation
To continue to float around you
Reaching out but never touching
To continue to pester you for your attention
Getting closer but never touching
I’ve convinced myself it’s better this way
The closer I get to you, the more I sizzle and blister
The closer you get to me, the more I want to extinguish you
The closer we get, the more I feel vulnerable
So I keep your light inside me
This is the most I’ll allow myself to have of you
Give me more of you and I’ll steal everything from you
I’ll eat you up and leave nothing
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I found my heart
It fell again
The cracks on its surface have creep further than I expected
It's starting to leak the glittery liquid I forgot it held
I hold it closer to my chest
Fingers trying it's hardest to stop the dripping
It can't take another hit
It can't take another loss
So I did it.
I stood up
I kissed it one last time
Then I bashed it to the ground
Glass and glitter sparkled on the ground like another masterpiece
It finally broke
I'm sorry but...
If I'm gonna lose
It's on my terms
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In the mirror I see
Someone who might've been me
But his skin glitches blue, red, yellow, pink
But his torso juts out like a 3D model with the polygons all wrong
But his face warps like AI made it up and made it up quick
In the monitor I see
Someone who I want to be
But his hands are shaped a bit too organically
But his legs just seem a bit too long
But his neck is the size of a toothpick
In the self I see
Someone that is free
But he isn't me
But he lives and he breathes
But he wants to be me
And maybe one day we'll all meet up
The mirror, the monitor, the self
And maybe one day we'll make up
#original poetry#october 21#2021#october 21 2021#october#poems#tw // dysmorphia#tw // dysphoria#dysmorphia#dysphoria
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You feel it creeping up your lungs
Like phlegm caught in your esophagus
But this time, it's thorny
But this time, it clings and never lets go
Is this your first time?
No?
This is your seventh? Eighth? Ninth?
It's all starting to blur, isn't it.
Rest assured, you're tired.
You're tired for screaming out on balconies.
Hoping that maybe the stars hear you.
That the moon takes pity and gives you your heart back.
That the sun looks back at you and your eyes don't burn.
You're hoping that this doesn't flood your capillaries.
Leaving you as a husk of your former self,
Adorned with roses that puncture your skin.
Like a crown of thorns that grew from your brittle bones.
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Let’s begin
I thought to myself one day I’d write love letters
Letters that let me say everything without saying anything
Letters that I send with everything I’ve ever felt
Letters that render the writer numb and empty
I think its fitting what its called
A letter like a symbol in the alphabet
Something abstract given meaning
A few lines, some curves, maybe a dot
And maybe if I learn the letters hard enough the words can come out my mouth easily
“I love you,”
That’s what I wrote
That’s what I wanted to say
That’s what I threw away
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Envy
1
We always want something
Something softer
Something kinder
Something better than the hand we were dealt with
I find myself wanting more and more each day
Why can't I be content?
I should be happy I even made it to this day.
I should be happy I was able to love and be loved.
So why?
Why is it that I want?
That I want someone that can never be mine
That I want a body that's not mine
That I want a life that is unreachable to me
Why is it that I disgust myself with what I want?
Why is it that the thoughts cause me to turn green?
I'm sick.
And I'm done hoping there's a cure.
2
I'll quarantine myself from the world again.
Keep all of you safe from my disease.
From a storm of hands trying to feel warmth and textures.
From glassy eyes moist from a river of unresolved tears.
From a body all wrong, all broken, and all tired.
From legs wondering, wishing, wandering.
We always want something.
But I...
I want to stop.
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Blackout Poetry
We live in a new age
Where it's in what you don't say that we find meaning in
In that small crack of lack
That's where the content really comes in.
I guess you could call me a master at this
In the silence
The silence of a scream
The silence of words unspoken
The silence of hands clammy and cold
Seeking out familiar warmth
But then I'm speaking again
And I find that your silence is most deafening.
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Discipline
Stop staring into my eyes
I get it we look into windows when we daydream
But there's nothing to dream about beyond my irises
It's all neurons and tiny shards of glass looking into each other
Don't hold my hands
It's a bag of bones
Held together by younger leather
It's warm but it isn't welcoming
Stop breathing so close to my lips
They're sinewy
All thats beyond them are sharp teeth
And a tongue that wants to taste you
So just let me go
I won't look at you the way I want to
I won't hold you the way I want to
I won't kiss you the way I want to
I know you won't even if I would.
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2
I'll live on
Drink water
Get sunlight
Eat
Breathe
I'll live on
Thorns on my sides
Deflowered
Bewitched
Hexed
Cursed
I'll live on
Heart on fire
Drowning in desire
Unresolved
Unjust
I'll live on
So chain me up
So do with me as you will
So leave me gasping for air
So kill me
So I stop living on without you.
Rose//Witch
1
Why can't I be desired.
Why is it that everything I touch comes with an ache.
Why is it that I still want to feel your touch.
Why is it that I hurt you.
If I love you then
Why is it that I have to pick out every petal when I think about you.
Love me, loves me not, love me, love me please, dont leave me
I'll be nicer.
I'll tear out the thorns and leave holes on my leaves.
I'll pull myself off the ground.
I'll show you the inside of my petals.
Flushed pink.
Blood red.
Stiff stem.
But tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I know I'll be another rose in your growing collection.
I know you'll gather me as experience.
For when you're ready.
To give a bouquet of experience to someone you truly love.
I'm glad I was of service to you my prince.
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Rose//Witch
1
Why can't I be desired.
Why is it that everything I touch comes with an ache.
Why is it that I still want to feel your touch.
Why is it that I hurt you.
If I love you then
Why is it that I have to pick out every petal when I think about you.
Love me, loves me not, love me, love me please, dont leave me
I'll be nicer.
I'll tear out the thorns and leave holes on my leaves.
I'll pull myself off the ground.
I'll show you the inside of my petals.
Flushed pink.
Blood red.
Stiff stem.
But tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I know I'll be another rose in your growing collection.
I know you'll gather me as experience.
For when you're ready.
To give a bouquet to someone you truly love.
I'm glad I was of service to you my majesty.
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Obsession
This is unhealthy.
Therefore,
I am sick.
I don't just fall in love with people.
Or at least who they are as is.
I fall in love with who I want them to be,
With who I need them to be.
Because I need someone.
I need them to be just as sick as I am.
I need them to want me just as much as I want them.
And it's selfish.
And it's indulgence.
And it's me shutting up.
And it's me,
Hands clammy,
Throat sore,
Elbows and knees on the floor.
Readying myself for someone.
Someone to come.
Please come already.
I'm sick,
Tired.
Literally,
Figuratively.
Whatever...
Just finish already so I can go clean myself.
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Frankenstein
We name our poems.
Give them an identity.
Two feet to stand on.
Give them power over us.
Two hands to work with.
And you give them a vulnerable trait from yourself.
Your very own Frankenstein's monster.
To love, to hurt, to be loved by, and to be hurt by.
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