180lbs
Head bowed over the scale in prayer my weight is the only God I know
First draft: pen to paper
Pen to paper
flowers bloom within me
I wish I could vomit bunches of daffodils for words and cry rivers and waterfalls worth of sonnets
instead I’m a dried River bed all cracked and dry
the life blood that I once supplied to the beds of greenery beside me have shriveled and fled
leaving me with just mud
dark and wet
it runs through my veins as if a constant reminder to the Gods of literature who bleed nothing but gold leafed calligraphy
of my place in their world
how no matter how much pain and suffering is spilled from this bed of a body
it will never be gazed upon by rightly scholars
Menagerie of an accident
“Unwanted children are a disease“ ”Absolutely worthless”
”You’ve ruined my life”
“This is for your own good” “You’re asking for it”
”I should’ve given you up for adoption“
”You’ll never amount to anything”
“I Locked the cabinets because your getting fat”
”No one will ever love you“
“I don’t know how you get out bed every morning”
“Have you learned your lesson yet” “If you cry I’ll grab the belt”
“You think I’m bad you should see other parents”
”How did I mess up so bad with you”
”I work so much so I won’t see your face so much”
”Why can’t you do anything right” ”I got you a size 10 as motivation“
”God punished me with you”
”Of course she said no look at yourself I wouldn’t t want to be your friend”
”You’re a dumb fucking cunt”
“If your father and I get divorced it’s your fault” ………………………………………………………………………………………
”I’m sorry.” “I didn’t mean what I said.” “I love you.”
-Mom
"No one will ever love you. I don't know how you get up every morning."
I hope this finds you well
You are magic! Secrets of centuries in hushed whispers reside upon your lips and even though your hands shake they carry infinities between them. Let me tell you they are afraid of the calamity you can create. Scared of how your lips spit tsunamis and earthquakes and how your soul is every bit as fierce as the cosmos; the cosmos which you’ve spent eons traversing. You’ve seen every color and you are blue like sorrow and blue like the kings of old who used you to adorn themselves and red like your lips
and pink like your tongue. You have a delicate power about you in a way that you are kind to people you don’t even know and that they breathe you in like air. So when you fall (and you will fall) know that you are every bit as essential as the sun and as beautiful as the starlight that flows through your veins so don’t spill it for those unworthy.
- Calliope
History remembers a villain
Every kid when growing up wants to be a hero. They wake up early to hurry down to the TV to watch Saturday cartoons just to see there is nothing a hero can’t fix in under 30 minutes in spandex uniform. As you grow older you begin to realize that perhaps the world is in need of a different kind of hero. One such hero that doesn’t dawn a bold colored uniform but blends into the background. In a world divided whats needed isn’t some jolly do-goooder who swoops in to save the day whenever conflict arises but a villain the people must unite against. If I had the power to freeze and unfreeze time I would become a villain that would make the world unite.
Left on read
Maybe I’m the kind of person you leave behind at truck stops
Or that granola bar in the bottom of your bag
You leave me there but once I get too crushed you throw me away
Maybe I’m just the type of person you make plans with and instantly regrets them
Because I made 6 plans this weekend and none of the people remembered me
Or to call me and say they weren’t coming
I was just left here waiting
And I keep telling myself it’s okay
They must have forget people forget sometimes
But
Am I really so forgettable
…so unwanted
Holes
The wind howls
as the trees bend and break
cats yowl in the distance
their tiny paws scratching against the door
it’s only then I hear them
oh god I couldn’t help myself
and dug up that grave
now the ghosts they haunt me
Harvest
I swear the tree turned
More from green to gold as I
Sat and stared outside
Aspen Eyes
It’s not the trees nor the space between them
That’s makes a forest a forest
But what lurks between them
Stalking you with golden eyes
Resembling newborn stars in virgin skies
Reminding you of who the trespasser is
What makes a forest is what lives beneath
Roots like veins making the earth a living pumping being
It is in the magic spoken in long forgotten tongues
Restless monsters listening
To the whispers of ancient trees
It’s the feeling of branches scratching your cheek
Your heart pumping in your chest
It is the feeling that you are both home
Yet somehow still in danger
What makes a forest a forest
Is fear when you find yourself
Not so alone in the woods as you thought you were