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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 11 months

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// ways in which i am a horrible person //, inspired by cassandra de alba’s poem of the same name

i. you are trying to unwrap the caution tape i’ve tangled myself in and i can only hear sirens in my head. i’ve never wanted anyone to stay more than now but i’d rather let you go than hurt you over and over.

ii. i stay in places that will kill me and run from those that have given me life. as i aimlessly walk around town, i see MISSING posters of a girl who looks a lot like me when i was young, but this time, you can barely see the rage in her eyes.

iii. hatred comes easily to me, and i swear if you look close enough, you can see the poison dripping from my fingertips. i stopped recognizing my reflection one night and i haven’t looked in the mirror ever since.

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 11 months

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i’m home and it’s summer. i’m home and it’s summer and my teeth have never hurt more in my entire life. i’m home and it’s summer and i’m staring out the windows wondering if i will ever make it out alive. i’m home and it’s summer and god knows there is something about love that makes it even sharper than a knife. i’m home and it’s summer and i can feel the yearning burn in my veins. i’m home and it’s summer and i no longer know how to traverse my hometown’s lanes. i’m home and it’s summer and sleeping through warm nights feels nothing short of a sin. i’m home and it’s summer and i can feel a faint, comforting touch from eons ago, just under the surface of my skin. i’m home and i don’t remember what summer feels like. the months say it’s summer while i scream, “will i ever be home?”. but you can’t hear a sound, not even when i pick up the phone.

// wtf is this

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 1 year

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// (s)mother //

there’s so much to be said about daughters who have mothers and mothers who have daughters. from swing sets to graves and bedtime fairytales to daytime nightmares, all the blood shed in between, you are home and the ghosts that haunt it. i want to hear the love through the violence, the comfort shining through the dark, but each time you step close to me, i picture you and i, miles apart.

so tonight, i’ve locked myself in the bathroom, staring at a reflection in the mirror that looks more like my worst fears than it does like me. it reaches a hand out of the frame, caressing my hair with a gentleness i haven’t felt in years, “darling, i know you’d stay here even if it killed you. sometimes, i think that’s exactly why you do.”

so go ahead mother, twist the kitchen knife. there’s only so long you can love someone until it kills you.

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 1 year

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// dead flowers //

i met persephone in a dream last night. i followed her across sunlit flowerbeds into darker tunnels, until i was no longer her shadow that could be seen. the soft murmur of petals metamorphosized into the ghostly whispers from crypts repeating over and over, "there goes persephone, there goes our mighty queen."

my footsteps got louder as the goddess of spring turned around, flowers falling at her feet as she held her hands out before me. after all, they do say "surrender is common nature to a damsel", and one question rings through my head, "is the mud under your fingernails from all these graves or the garden, who do you really belong to, the living or the dead?

// this one's been lying in my drafts for a while now and can't say i didn't try

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 1 year

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/my mind is a like a broken record player and i can’t change the song anymore/

here’s what they don’t tell you about nostalgia, here’s what they don’t tell you about the feeling you miss every time you look at an old polaroid. that your memories will seep into your lives like ivy growing through a brick wall, even the troubled ones your younger self wanted to avoid. and now we dream about metamorphosis, we dream about rewriting history, we dream about everything we promised each other and ourselves we would be.

so ‘vienna’ plays in the background and a closet full of history falls apart at my feet. there is something so powerful about the love we hold for those we survived the darkness and embraced the light with, can’t you see? flowers pressed between books, sleepless nights set to the playlist my best friend made, the road trip down unexplored ways, and all the summers we spent together too.

i clean up the mess as billy joel asks “when will you realize, vienna waits for you?” and the music comes to an end. but the most wonderful thing about this broken record player is i get to relive my favorite song over and over again.

// something i wrote for a university event but got to nervous to perform- my best friend is reciting it for me on stage now and i think it really is all about the friends we make along the way and just living for love, love and little beyond.

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 1 year

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warning signs, flashing lights, bricks covered in rotting vines. i know i could survive the worst of endings if i saw them through your eyes. but here i am, on the outside, looking past the tall gates into a kingdom that was once mine. autumn evenings have never looked darker, now i'm sitting amongst falling leaves from the trees we planted together.

"you're not my homeland anymore, so what i am defending now?", asks the voice in my head and i'm trying to shut it out but all our memories replay instead- the hazy forest we called home, the devotion i felt through my bones, the blood on your knuckles, the castle we built from all the rubble, all the times i found a town i never wanted to run from in your eyes, all the nights i no longer felt like i was in my own disguise.

this was a love that could've brought the mightiest empires to their knees. at least we'll leave our legacy behind in these sycamore trees. i never thought i'd have to see this film again, i hope you know i'd give up my crown just so we could rewrite the end.

// inspired by taylor swift’s masterpiece, ‘exile’; folklore is SO GOOD i wanna write something based on every song from the album

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 1 year

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i can’t write anymore. i can’t hold a pen and not think of a knife anymore. these days, you’ll find me whispering to myself every night. “sometimes a wound is just a wound”. sometimes, it’s enough to just make it out to the daylight.

and there’s only so many words i can write before the ink starts looking like blood. there’s only so much i can say before the teeth i’ve swallowed start to hurt. there’s only so many summers i can go without drowning in an invisible flood.

haven’t you heard all of it? i think you’re sick of the same story by now. how this grief is a family heirloom. how only the worthy are loved. how i spill my guts every time i’m alone in a room. how girls with white dresses stain the surface beneath their skin with mud. how i’d rather be haunted than be lonely.

but how can i stop writing when this wound is no longer a wound, but a million stories woven together? and how can i stop writing when i know you’d always listen to the same story a million times, as long as i told it?

// title ideas needed!

a lil self- motivation in honour of the terrible writing slump i’m in

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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come, take my hand. i have so much to show you, so much to say. no, don’t step back, don’t be afraid of the bloodstains. you see, i held my heart in my palms for the first time last night. it felt good to know that there was a part of me that was still alive, covered in weeds and broken glass but beating all the same.

they say “your body is a temple”, right? or was it a cemetery? does any of it matter when we’re all on our knees? “salvation will be ours”, we weep as we rip open the muddy earth with hands that bleed.

what do you beg for when you think no one can hear you? what do you beg for when you think god can?

// idk what to call this or what it’s supposed to be but i miss tumblr so im back; rewriting soon!

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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august slipped away like a bottle of wine and stained these sheets crimson. teach me a word that’s harder to say than “goodbye”; we cradle this insatiable grief so carefully in our hands, you would think it’s our religion.

we write poetry in the backseat, with ink the colour of the night sky. i want to show you constellations from the parking lot of the mall. ignore the blood on my hands, i spill my guts in the name of art on the bathroom floor. oh, the things we do for the hope of it all.

summer built a home inside of us but we haven’t seen the light of day in years. so much for summer love, so much for facing our worst fears. let the wounds burn. let the end hurt down to my very bones. let me bleed myself dry at your rusted door, it means i’m finally coming home.

// august

(monthly issue part ii being early coz i’m impatient; aaannddd i’ve taken bits of it from the creator of this month, taylor swift’s ‘august’)

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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welcome to the empire of mirrors. believe me, there are few things that will haunt you more than your reflection here.

we were raised not to fly too high, run too far; we were raised to die a million deaths in the name of only living once. i might be older now but you say “love” and all these reflections still scream “violence”.

oh what are we going to do with all this bad luck, broken glass splitting open our brittle bones? crawling through a cruel maze we have begun to call home.

i have memorized the ghost of my childhood and it keeps chasing me down these shiny walls. look, there you can see the sun, dripping wax from icarus’ fall.

in the end, the shards sticking out of our broken ribs are what will take us down. in the dark lake of our merciless memories, bit by bit, we will drown.

// empire of mirrors

(found this long-forgotten concept at the bottom of my notes app and thought it was worth a shot)

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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a reordered version of the series i wrote on the seven deadly sins complete with its own playlist :)

i. pride, the most imperious of sins

heads held high and tainted glory, scar tissue covers our brittle bones like befitting armor. they tried to make us ashamed of ourselves, but we were destined to return home more imperishable than ever. the blood on our hands was worth reclaiming our priceless land; didn’t i promise you that fateful night we would last forever? long after the rivers dried out and the fields were covered in decayed heather. you might have betrayed us before but this time, with newfound viciousness, we’ll do it better. “your arrogance will kill you”, they tell us, as if we won’t get dragged to hell together.

ii. greed, the most desirous of sins

lush silks and blinding gold, we have empty castles for hearts. even eternity won’t be long enough for those of us grasping at exploding stars. we don’t want much. just glory without all the blood that comes with it. just pearls in our crowns and immortality slipping through our palms like sand. just empires to be rulers of without the curse of eternal damnation. just power and impenetrable fortresses without the promise of ruination. we don’t want much, just love without any teeth. but you know better than anyone that there are some things even gods aren’t allowed to have.

iii. lust, the most scandalous of sins

stolen kisses and forbidden touches, we’re leaving behind a legacy of lipstick stains on the holy grail. the veiled whispers and unending rumors reopen old wounds that made us frail. everywhere we go, our longing hunts us down like we’re a hungry wolf’s prey crawling along the forest trail. these rustling leaves sound like a lover’s sigh and the summer breeze is a warm embrace. we live in a cruel world with a craving for violence and always get told that it’s our own “morbid desires” that will be our fall from grace.

iv. envy, the most covetous of sins

eyes turning the color of a lush rainforest and steadily rotting hearts in our burning ribcages, we will always want what we can’t have. insatiability has carved a home deep into our brittle bones, we learnt eons ago that there is no salve for a jealous soul. clawing our way through royalty, yearning for what will never be ours is when we’ve felt most alive. don’t you remember killing our gods for their fortune on a stormy night, when the sky bled its bloodiest hue? this green-eyed monster has chased us deep into the menacing woods all our lives, don’t you think it’s time we bared our razor-sharp fangs too?

v. gluttony, the hungriest of sins

royal feasts and lavish meals, all the riches in the world can’t fill our gilded platter. there were times when our frail bodies and trembling hands weren’t weak enough to matter. now we hold banquets that make up for years of thirst and relentless hunger; wiping the blood off our mouths after tearing apart ancient gods with every bite. we’re here to take back the crown, and when it comes to those of us who are younger, we will never go down without a fight. won’t you let me be a sinner when we both know i won’t be enough if i starve myself tonight?

vi. wrath, the most vengeful of sins

burning battlefields and swords sharpened against ancient wounds, we’ve spent a lifetime praying to gods we made up on our darkest days. now, here we are, stronger and louder than them anyway. it’s our rage that makes us holy, the bloodcurdling fury behind these fragile shields that makes you stay away. the fire in our veins will burn the throne down and paint the streets you once ruled, ash gray. “your anger will destroy you”, but don’t you know we’ve bled lava and cried acid long before this tragic day?

vii. sloth, the most indolent of sins

luxurious linens and sluggish summer afternoons, the thousand wars we bore witness to settled an ache in our bones. all this martyrdom was never meant to be ours, we were never destined to travel down these wearying and wicked roads. years of corpse-covered fields and battles fought in vain, we know better than to venture into the unknown. a lifetime of sitting on someone else’s throne has given us power and its inescapable rush. if an idle mind is a devil’s workshop, won’t you come take a look at the bloodthirsty empire we’ve built inside of us?

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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vii. envy, the most covetous of sins

eyes turning the color of a lush rainforest and steadily rotting hearts in our burning ribcages, we will always want what we can’t have. insatiability has carved a home deep into our brittle bones, we learnt eons ago that there is no salve for a jealous soul. clawing our way through royalty, yearning for what will never be ours is when we’ve felt most alive. don’t you remember killing our gods for their fortune on a stormy night, when the sky bled its bloodiest hue? this green-eyed monster has chased us deep into the menacing woods all our lives, don’t you think it’s time we bared our razor-sharp fangs too?

// deadlier than you think pt. 7

(this one might’ve been a little rushed but finally made it to the end!- can’t wait to reorder it and maybe, just maybe add a small playlist inspired by it too…)

i. greed, the most desirous of sins

lush silks and blinding gold, we have empty castles for hearts. even eternity won’t be long enough for those of us grasping at exploding stars. we don’t want much. just glory without all the blood that comes with it. just pearls in our crowns and immortality slipping through our palms like sand. just empires to be rulers of without the curse of eternal damnation. just power and impenetrable fortresses without the promise of ruination. we don’t want much, just love without any teeth. but you know better than anyone that there are some things even gods aren’t allowed to have.

// (thinking about writing one for each of the seven deadly sins)

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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“the world is ending tonight”, you scream and i can hear the laugh in your voice; see your smile with bloodstained teeth. i want to tell you that even this burning city looks holy with you at the wheel. instead i say, “you’re going to kill us at this speed.” “if i don’t, they will. live a little, let’s die in the name of revolution tonight.” maybe everything that’s wrong with this world is what’s right with us.

so, we dream about metamorphosis. we dream about rewriting history. we dream about the goddamn apocalypse. we dream about everything they told us we couldn’t be. but at the end of the day, this is who we are. frail skeletons holding tragedy in palms of sand- always destined to be burned at the stake. there’s black lava leaking from your mouth now and staring at your red teary eyes, i can feel my heart break. “we were supposed to be gods but no one cares about the living anymore. all we’ve ever wanted is to be powerful enough to matter. don’t you want to go far from everything that we once were?” drip. drip. shatter.

there’s so much i want to say but the end is near and i’m running out of time. it’s not that i don’t love you but i learnt when i was young that you can’t kiss the sun without setting yourself ablaze. ours is a hunger that can put the mightiest of gods to shame. there’s a fire in the distance and i can only watch as you race us into the smoke. devil knows i can’t stop you, the unknown has always felt a lot like home.

// i need a good title or it’s getting called ‘highway to hell’ help a girl out

(can’t believe i actually worked on something i said i would)

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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and july ends with nostalgia tearing a hole into my chest, picking at scraps of tainted memories with her muddy claws. the dying sunflowers on my windowsill are begging to be thrown out but they’re all i have left to offer at my tomb. it’s funny how summers make everything last a little longer; if our tragedies lingered around some more, do you think we could be worthy of a happy ending too?

and in my dreams, i’m packing my bags, driving away from home with my mother’s voice playing on the radio, a reminder that even the woods won’t take me far enough. you were never meant to make it out alive, child. you will always come home to sharper kitchen knives. so every morning, i wake up at the doorstep of this very house, soaked in rainwater and someone else’s blood. can i leave can i leave can i, just for once, not be the one left behind?

// july (don’t even know what this is supposed to be so a monthly issue i guess?)

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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vi. sloth, the most indolent of sins

luxurious linens and sluggish summer afternoons, the thousand wars we bore witness to settled an ache in our bones. all this martyrdom was never meant to be ours, we were never destined to travel down these wearying and wicked roads. years of corpse-covered fields and battles fought in vain, we know better than to venture into the unknown. a lifetime of sitting on someone else’s throne has given us power and its inescapable rush. if an idle mind is a devil’s workshop, won’t you come take a look at the bloodthirsty empire we’ve built inside of us?

// deadlier than you think pt. 6

(um not me forgetting about this series but can’t wait for it to be completed!)

i. greed, the most desirous of sins

lush silks and blinding gold, we have empty castles for hearts. even eternity won’t be long enough for those of us grasping at exploding stars. we don’t want much. just glory without all the blood that comes with it. just pearls in our crowns and immortality slipping through our palms like sand. just empires to be rulers of without the curse of eternal damnation. just power and impenetrable fortresses without the promise of ruination. we don’t want much, just love without any teeth. but you know better than anyone that there are some things even gods aren’t allowed to have.

// (thinking about writing one for each of the seven deadly sins)

#writing #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #poetry #prose #reading #poets corner #quotes #writers and poets #ramblings #quote #art #literature #sins #sloth #poeticstories #writeblr

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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“the world is ending tonight”, you scream and i can hear the laugh in your voice; see your smile with bloodstained teeth. i want to tell you that even this burning city looks holy with you at the wheel. instead i say, “you’re going to kill us at this speed.” “if i don’t, they will. live a little, let’s die in the name of revolution tonight.” because this is who we are. skeletons holding tragedy in their hands- always destined to be burned at the stake. there’s black lava leaking from your mouth now and staring at your red eyes, i can feel my heart break. “we were supposed to be gods you know but no one cares about the living anymore. don’t you want to be powerful enough to matter?” drip. drip. shatter

there’s a fire in the distance and i can only watch as you race us into the smoke. devil knows i can’t stop you, the unknown has always felt a lot like home.

// just leaving this one out here because it reads like a weird remix between the 1975′s ‘love it if we made it’ and lizzy mcalpine’s ‘reckless driving’ with a touch of richard siken’s ‘driving, not washing’ and then demonize the whole thing in a dystopian setting BUT i promise to work on this initial draft very soon

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thelastwordsofashootingstarr · 2 years

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🌻 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 🌻

hm it’s very much like me to forget everything about myself the moment i’m asked this question but let’s try lol🤣

1. sunflowers are my absolute favourite

2. i’m a major harrie (harry styles fans)

3. i love reading and i also have a bookstagram!

thanks so much @secretnerdghost 🖤🖤

#writing #books #reading #music #asks

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