I can’t say I’m all that sad about not having you in my life anymore. You were a leech. You took what you could get from me and left when you had your fill of my existence. Nostalgia is annoying. It keeps telling me about how things were great, it keeps making me miss the moments we shared that weren’t real moments at all, at least not for you. Now that I see you clearly, life makes a little bit more sense. Things are sweet, but there’s a part of me that misses you - the idea of you. There’s a part of me that’s bitter.
My memory, a meshless sieve,
Is not something I have to give;
My heart will not be got with guile
And none can seek to ‘own’ a smile;
My voice though small and seldom heard,
Is mine, and cannot be conferred;
My words will not be held or trapped;
My soul is not easily tapped;
Though my hands I may let you hold,
No part of me is bought or sold;
I know you like to pull the strings,
But asking me to give you things
That by definition are 'me’
Is why there’ll never be a 'we.’
when shifting sizes, the excess mass is changed into the element of the dragon. an earth dragon’s body would would turn into a pile of sand, a fire dragon’s body would go up in flame, a light dragon would shift in a flash of light, a wind dragon would dissolve into a tornado, a lightning dragon would give off a massive surge of electricity, an ice dragon’s body would melt, a water dragons body would be much like an ice dragons body, only faster, a shadow dragons body would just vaporize… a plague dragon’s body would rot away, a nature dragon would peel away like leaves, and an arcane dragon would straight up dissolve into pure energy and coalesce
‘Elle has nary a doubt. But the ones she has really stand out.’
I once had a doubt about the grout where the spout came out in my bath. I called a plumbing crew, and the lout that they sent out did flout and shout about the drought. He did have a scout about the spout though, and found a stout trout behind the wall, stealing the grout to trade for sauerkraut. In that case, my doubt was devout.
I am still mysterious to myself.
A thousand doors within me,
fingertips reaching out,
grasping for the handles.
On the cusp of becoming.
Maybe I’ll lose myself this year,
find a new city to fall apart in.
Here, I am Eeyorish.
Ruled by the instinct
to bury myself.
Out there, I am
clichéd, the independent coffee shop
inhabiter, writing sesquipedalian
poetry on an old typewriter and
I skip lectures to frequent
second hand bookshops and
other natural wonders.
Or, I am
the beautiful degenerate.
Socialite, brightest at night,
hands in the air
or holding back girls’ hair.
Putting drugs and
in my body.
Singing at the top of my lungs:
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive.
Or, I am
first hand up,
last to leave the lecture theatre,
longest hours in the library.
Superlative, running rings
around my peers, wringing
productivity out of each second,
essays with adroit finesse,
begging my professors
for higher word counts.
Here, I am not
any of these factitious selves,
my own manic pixie dream girl.
There, I will not be either.
Nevertheless, I will change,
And I hope they lead to me
becoming a little braver,
a little kinder.
If this is all in my head
please just let me know
because it damn well could be
- you know as well as I do
that I’m prone to delusional tendencies.
But when we are in the same room
it all just feels so real,
like when you’re dreaming,
and you haven’t woken up yet
so you don’t know that it’s all just a dream.
it all leans towards you
and maybe it’s a one-sided thing
and I’m misreading all the signs
and you think of me and feel nothing
and the sexual chemistry is all imaginary
because I’m a fucking dreamer
one of the very few things that
brings me back to reality
I still feel this yin and yang shit
I still feel everything I always have
and I’m sorry
I tried not to
but I don’t know how to tell this feeling to leave.
I guess I kinda like it.
But the game is Cool and you know how to play it
and you don’t let your guard drop
so my feminine energy drifts through the space,
Maybe I’m making it all up,
this nameless connection,
and if I am please tell me
(just one more time)
and I will swallow these words like fire,
let them singe the inside of my chest
and never dare to breathe them again.
But so far,
not talking about our feelings hasn’t done
either of us any good.
So here is my feeling:
something has shifted,
something has changed,
and I see you in a different light now.
A more realistic,
less idealistic kind of light
but you still got me tripping
and I dunno
you could touch me if you want to
(just casually of course)
because I really want you to want to.
But if you don’t want to
I’ll keep my distance
and do my best to resist this