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pixelins · 1 year

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thinkin’ about the quiet kindness & care in trinkets & treasures x

#e.g i found this rock for you #pixelins #pixel art #pixels #artists on tumblr #tea #plants #fossil #cute #cute art #skull #malcolm's little paper houses #sigh #@inkskinned

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cryptidfuckery · 1 year

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I don't want to become a tree.

I have a fascination with death. Not how it happens, not what happens after. I have a fascination with how death is handled by the ones left living.

I talked at length about it in the Egyptian gallery with you, surrounded by bodies misplaced. "Most of history we learn through the way we treat our dead." Which is true, I think, for the most part.

We have written and oral history. We have the skeletons of buildings and cultures left behind for us to interpret. But before that, before the corpses of civilizations we're still able to uncover, we have our own.

The oldest body ever found is argued to be 230,000 years old. Hundreds of millennia, a culture so lost to time and decay we can't hope to uncover significant artifacts.

Our bodies become the artifact. The way we were buried, where, with what, with who. Was there care put into our final resting spot? Was there effort put into the ends of our lives?

Most often, there was. Our bodies tell our descendants our status. Our injuries. Our community. Our loves.

Perhaps they'll debate. Perhaps they'll misinterpret. But millennia later, your body might tell someone how we lived. How we loved. What we cared about at our core. What we thought would help us after death. What we thought we'd want to continue our comfort. What the living needed to let us pass on from their lives.

You tell me you still think about what I said.

Many people talk about becoming a tree when they pass. It is a beautiful notion, one I've considered. A natural, living reminder of a life lived. A place for their loved ones to share a connection with. In a way, the continuation of a life; albeit in a different form.

But I don't want to become a tree. I'd rather become a forest.

Maybe it's a notion toward the state of our world. The lack of top soil is one of the prevalent factors of our declining environment. The way we've stripped it of the nutrients of decay.

There are ways to decompose naturally. In the ground with nothing but a natural shroud is the oldest and easiest way. A new, human composting method has been created for an urban option when the easiest is unavailable. An alternative to cremating. One that can give back to the earth.

My body might not be one that tells the story of my time alive on this planet. My body might tell a joke, or rest peacefully, or ideally decay away. My DNA will dissolve into nitrogen and an assortment of other elements. I will become no different or better than the dirt that lies around me. What was me will become something else entirely.

I'd rather become the top soil. I'd rather become the forest.

#fucking. blame raq for this #got me thinking about it again #perhaps..... a matching piece of writing to their poem???#idk if i'd call this a poem but. i am not the expert on this #anyway dedicated to @inkskinned because yeah. they're part of this #@inkskinned #anyway!!!! feel free to ignore i just had to get it out of me

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bidoofenergy · 3 months

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an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing

#web weaving #on life #web weave #on nature #comparatives #comparative #parallels #parallel #webweaving #webweave #how's the football song go WE'RE HERE BECAUSE WE'RE HERE BECAUSE WE'RE HERE BECAUSE WE'RE HERE WE'RE HERE BECAUSE WE'RE HERE BECAUSE WE'RE #this happened cos i saw the trees post and then thought about the inkskinned reply. i want this to feel like its contained in that reply #my web #my weave #i xan never remember my fucking rag arguhgh

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inkskinned · 5 months

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it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

#writeblr #warm up #on gender politics lol #inkskinned try not to have feelings for someone challenge #time of death: they put my earring in their ear. they were wearing an unbuttoned black buttondown and a necklace with my name on it #you can just send me the coffin i was ready to crawl in

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em0sket · 1 year

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I love being perceived as a whatever

it gives me a fast pass through everything

i’m a woman i’m a not i’m a something

being allowed to slip slide and crash into womanhood

with a string of maternal figures holding my hands and begging me to live better than they could

my family of whatever’s the family i share glances and nods and box dye with

the shifting cloud of allegiance that comes with walking into the first floor of a building and people at the penthouse hearing me scream dyke butch fag lesbian as i walk through the foyer

the look in peoples eyes when they recognise one of their own the nervous he’s she’s and they’s thrown at me hoping one will stick

i love making people question themselves by walking into a room and the whiplash they get when i call myself a man

the shock of me in a dress the horror of me in a suit

i’m monstrous and i love it i kiss my broad shoulders hug my pot belly and hold hairy legs close

because the monster has the most fun he’s unapologetic fitting in with herself and carving out a £50 b-movie finally staring them under the lights

i weep for the beaten before me and hold the future in my hands and i will find me fitting in with myself

#sketspeaks #poetry #transgender #nonbinary #inspired by inkskinned #@inkskinned

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wordslaver · 5 months

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Have you ever woke up feeling like your skin have been screaming from how much you've missed someone

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #love quotes #heartbreak #spilled poetry #spilled writing #life quotes #quotes #depressing quotes #beautiful words #quoteoftheday #life quote #inkskinned #love poem #poem #poetry

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feytouched · 9 months

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2023.08.11. new poem (?)

#my writing #in which i miss the dog i had growing up and the house where i did said growing up #free verse #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writerblr #poetryblr #inkskinned #spilled ink #words #poems #quotes #poem #poetry

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fantodsdhrit · 24 days

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fell asleep your cigarette insomnia charred pillows stannic room flames

to rākshasas shiva granted then deprived

your psychedelic hatred for everything vivid woke up and met itself

an official visualizer song natraja dashboard

i realised i needed you more than hungry ghost realm

i needed you more than needs' need

the third eye was treacherously unappetizing don't stare at cement dust

they voyage on positive cruelty vibes

you said whatever was to come would now be i waited for you to lie still

so i could be intimately hallway alone

my head as antithesis of shiva's matted hair

my head without strength you assay

if you refuse to perish as a human become a rākshasa

there's a futility to life that only life assumes

like gulmohars spewing leaves icterine

or a kite carrying away furryball squirrel

after that silver fire your room spoke to you but you were half in wyoming

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six-white-venus · 4 months

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if you ever see him, there is just one thing you would like to ask him:

how do i forgive?

because you've been trying, lord knows you have. it's been a year. he never loved you. it's as easy as that. why can't it be as easy as that?

you recently came across a letter you wrote him after he left, one where you're begging him to come back. you tore the paper copy into shreds a long time ago, but this one must have escaped your notice. you remember his response to the message. a thumbs-up emoji.

"whose name will i call, a thousand times over?" it said, "who will I call my love, my love, my love- exasperated, scandalised, laughing? who will I call?"

it's been a year and you know the answer to that question, more or less. no one. you will call no one. you will sit and stare at the paint peeling off your wall, that ugly, powdery blue that has started making your skin crawl. you will sit on the cold kitchen floor till your mom pulls you to your feet and brings you tea. you will call no one. you will make yourself forget.

except, it's not that easy.

he pops up in every mundane aspect of your life. the other day you found a keychain you bought him a month before his birthday, a month before he left you. you give it to someone else because why waste money? it's not like he lives in it.

(but he does, he does, he does.)

he is dating someone you used to know. you don't care. you want to throw up. you just want to ask: how do I forget?

a friend recently asked you, "do you think you had a savior complex, when it came to him?" you said you didn't, but maybe that's not the whole truth. maybe you did have some sort of twisted need to save him in every single way possible just so that he'll love you.

i would help you stitch yourself up. i swear i won't scream when you gut me like a fish. i will feed you soup and keep you warm. i won't sob when you knock my portion to the floor. you bleed. i do, too. no, you're right. i don't bleed as you do. I'll never understand. i am so sorry. i love you. do you love me?

after a week, you receive two texts:

lol kys ily <3

you are so happy you could sob.

he does none of this now, apparently. he smiles instead of smirking. he cradles things. he tends to wounds. he calls her baby. he says, "I love you so much." the whole thing, all spelled out. how crazy is that?

and you just want to ask: how do I stop caring?

he always held you between his teeth. there was nothing gentle about it. the bite marks on the back of your neck still hurt and you could swear it still bleeds. your mom says you're imagining it. you must be.

but here's the thing! you have people who hold you in their arms now. they are so gentle, so careful with you. you didn't cry, not once, under the clutch of his canines but now in their arms, all you do is cry. it's so strange. and you really are happy. it's so much better than what it used to be. you wake up and he's not the first thing you think of, not anymore. you dream that he apologises to you (you forgive him every single time). you go to therapy. you don't remember the last time you cried over him. you are loved, but not by him. you never were.

it doesn't matter, because you know what love feels like now. it is popcorn and nacho cheddar cheese seasoning and mutton curry. it tastes like tea and chips in an orange package and instant noodles you made with your best friend the day before she left for college. you know love now. you know happiness.

but in moments like these, you can't stop yourself from thinking that if you see him again, you would like to ask him one last thing:

how do you stop missing being held between one's teeth?

#my writing #prose poetry #words #writeblr #heartbreak #how does one move on when there was never a proper end?#when there wasn't even a beginning?#inspired by that one inkskinned poem

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the-sum-of-many-poets · 1 day

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magic goatskin

a mouth maneuver

morbidly queues in carnival outré

pockets to the south

pouts like a weary church step

barbs the lower vermillion

meta hangdog like

perhaps a deep sea fish

barely visible by lanterns

sends a joyless speech bubble to its lips

uses filigreed edges

uses a coal mine confession

writhes under a microscope an anthrax question

another mouth

receives the sabotage

makes a strangled cloth of its face & responds with a readymade

bumper sticker suggests

an infidel’s slack prayer

the wake of its yawn is an air raid siren

sure

the idea is woodwormed

it tells the sorrier truth anyway

over time

it builds a crumbling wall against human cannonballs

against falling platitudes

take a cue from nature it says

shut down

drop a leaf

drop a grieving letter

stares at the ground as if burying a loved one

i’m valise the mouth says

guts unpacked in front of him

or

maybe he’s just curious

but no

I don’t want to talk about drunk war leaders

snipers a smile into the moving crowd

a glass vial with a moth inside

quasi

it does what it’s always been able to do

lands a navigator’s kiss on ursa minor

manifesto sparkilo fuming

the boy who befriended light

where is he

who sheltered in a field from boarding school scourge

the trees he said

their shadows became his companions

laugh buries fatigue

bells the opiate mind

joins the moth

joins the porch light that was never the moon

mouth tells the head

take a deep breath

hold it like you’re swimming towards an answer

exhales a whistling sheoak

toys the rough hem of a broken nail

the pretence of something important

do you see it

teflon like

a twenty first century choking hazard

stares back anyway

unable to hold a memory

#writerscreed #rejectscorner #spilled ink #inkskinned #alt lit #poets on tumblr #poetry #free verse #twc

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preraphaelitepoetess · 4 months

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[a poem] DEC. 23rd - awaking to an overcast on a dim december day.

#my writing #poetry #poetryblr #poetry blog #poetry annotation #personal work #personal writing #writer #writing #books #bookblr #bookworm #dark academia aesthetic #dark academia #dark academism #dark academic aesthetic #light academia #inkskinned #spilled ink

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ineedibuprofen · 10 months

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cool about it, boygenius // i don't want to hear any good news or bad news, elisa gabbert // ana mendieta // this post, @inkskinned // drowning sailor, jack nichols // you are jeff, richard siken // everything i wanted, billie eilish

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letteriwillneversend · 4 months

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when i die, i will become a sunset.

i know some people say their loved ones live on in sunrises, those early morning miracles that start your day with grace. but that will not be me. i will paint a sunset - hushed and streaky and moody. it will be soft and complex at the same time. it will somehow be more beautiful than you expect it to be but also not as good as what you imagine. it will welcome my loved ones home at the end of their days, or watch for them as night takes the place of day. no matter where they are: on a rooftop, in their car, sitting in an office in some high rise, or at home in a kitchen with a small window - i will come in to take a peek. when they are tired and weary, the tendrils of my fading sunset will reach out like a soft hand on your shoulder, soft strokes with no aim other than to sooth.

and eventually the deep blues will begin to bleed in. the stars will begin to make themselves apparent, first in small numbers, and then all at once. my sunset will stay just long enough to see them, to greet them, before i must go. before i leave, i will kiss my loved ones on the forehead. i will smile at them like i cannot bring myself to say goodbye, because i can’t. i was strong enough to love but not enough to stay, and that is something i will be be too cowardly to confess in any lifetime. so i will leave it unsaid.

i will leave them with the knowledge that at the end of everyday, short or long, good or bad, memorable or mundane…

there will be a sunset.

#prose #poetry #tw: depression #i'm just so tired #love #loved ones #sunsets #i will be a sunset #when i die #tw sui ideation #tw sui implied #im just so exhausted #my thoughts #my writing #letters i will never send #inkskinned

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sapphowhispers · 5 months

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If my lips could speak it I think it would end us both for you are not ready for the warmth (you were raised in the cold, learned to be a stone before you deemed yourself a coal, and you find every fire a menace) and I've been burning for so long that I might just turn to ashes, should I let you know how I've been sitting, weeping, wilting ever so slowly

People see what they believe; you, made of honey guarded by wasps, me, made of marble frozen in time

But don't they see it? How I carved my heart to keep you safe? How I'd stand in front of any winds that want to blow you away? Don't you see it? Do these lips have to move? Must this throat ache before you see that I am waiting, mouth open for you to stick to me, sweet and golden?

I've been an ancient mountain waiting for the spring and you have been the snow ready to melt and run through me

a flame reborn (lan zhan's monologue)

#poetry #inkskinned #spilled ink #mdzs #lan zhan #wei wuxian #wanxian #the untamed #poets on tumblr #okay so I take questions about this one because i personally think i did really well with the metaphors and want to talk about it #but yeah! enjoy

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freyaswriting · 1 year

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I am a beautiful gilt sword refusing to be pulled from the stone like a fucking idiot. I am willing to say something so egregiously dumb that I naturally decompose. And if I am wrong you can cremate me in a honey glaze. You can’t stop me, cringe is out, it’s earnest now. I’m dancing on the fucking table, I’m gonna run down hill and get hit by a bike! I’m going to throw out accidentally covering up how I feel and eat a big praise sandwich until I am full and completely round like those ancient German hogs.

I am enjoying myself. I like mahogany and dogs in jumpers. the thought of logging wood, and primary colours. I will roll up a pair of knickers so they look like a croissant, wear cheap black lipstick and send smoke signals for everyone to come to my party. I will let myself be as excited as the shops on Christmas eve, relish everything that is good and pointless.

And if I eat shit then so be it.

And If I Eat Shit Then So Be It by me, first published on fgrlsclub

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wordslaver · 6 months

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Though I never said much, growing apart affected me something like a death. I still keep your secrets safe, in case you'd like to grow back.

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #heartbreak #love quotes #spilled poetry #spilled writing #life quotes #quotes #depressing quotes #inkskinned #it kills me

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