literary excerpts

The stars lean down every night
Just to press their lips against your skin
And I can’t help but simply lay here
Hoping that in time, I can do the same
If I close my eyes for a brief moment
You’ll slip right through my fingertips
I’m just so lost in my own misery
And you couldn’t possibly manage to find me
If but only within each of our dreams
My therapist claims that I am a tragedy
Constantly recalling the way
You took me by a storm
Only to leave just as quickly
She calls every day to remind me of those pills
Poisoned medication forced against my will
And I’d play hooky if I weren’t so caught up
Just wishing for your voice on the other line
The blue hue of my eyes, now a faded grey
Not that it really changes anything
But I feel like it’s seeping into my bloodstream
Modifying my perception of reality
My sense of mental stability
And I wonder if I was every really sane at all
The sun still rises at dawn
Continues to settle beneath the horizon
In the late evenings when I’m coming home
But it just isn’t the same without you anymore
The silence you’ve left behind is deafening
This house, no longer filled with your laughter
Or your warmth, or the sense of security
Or even hope, for that matter
I guess that’s why I keep trying
I keep mailing out those silly letters
Not that you will ever read them
I suppose I just like to think you will
It’s easier to accept that you won’t reply
Than it is to accept the fact that you’re gone
The thought of it brings a tear to my eye
I don’t really lay upon that bed anymore
Numerous comforters and blankets
Collecting dust of the fading memories
Though they still reside untouched
Precisely the way you left them
Because I can’t even imagine attempting
To sleep without you intertwined with me
Drowning in love beneath those satin sheets
It’s growing old, you know
The restless nights spent staring at my hands
Studying the crevices between each digit
Where your own once were
These thoughts are steadily consuming me
But when I think of you, I don’t feel so alone
And I still scream your name when I cry
So if you hear me next time
Send a postcard
Something along the lines of, “I’m fine”
Scribbled on the back of the place I long to be
The location of the man who never set me free
Because you were everything to me

As requested by @creatingnikki

She isn’t pretty, she is disastrous.

She wasn’t the muse novelists would write about, for she looked more like a walking travesty — smudged eyeliners, hollow orbs, black lips, and an empty chest.

She wasn’t the sunny days of your summer, for she was a storm encased in a skin, and her heart is where thunders and lightnings reside.

She wasn’t the smooth sea waves that will kiss the shore and tickle your feet, for she was a whirlpool who trapped sailors in a vortex — she was unrestrained even by the sea god.

She wasn’t the peaceful night sky you’d admiringly gaze at, for she was a black hole exploding in space, invisible to the naked eye. She perishes to oblivion and you’d only see the falling stars, for they were her tears.

She wasn’t the gentle breeze that would caress the softness of your hair, for she comes in overwhelming cyclones and hurricanes, and the howling winds were her screams.

She is everything wrecked and destructive. She wasn’t the paradisal beaches of Maldives, for she was the Atlantis — long sunken and forgotten. She wasn’t Pandora who was sculpted to beauty, for she was just another sadness taken out of the box.

Your smile isn’t the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. Your love isn’t her light; her darkness will swallow it. The romantic serenades you compose? Keep them for she only listens to lonely melodies sang for lonely people who want to die. And the butterflies you try to give her? They will only be killed by the wasps in her tummy.

You’d think someday you’d roll on your bed at 5 a.m. to hug her, but she’d be sitting and breaking down on the bathroom floor with a broken glass on her hand ready to slice her wrists. You’d think her eyes would sparkle when you give her roses, but you’d only see emptiness in them for she is a wasteland — a place unfit for gardens to grow in. You’d think she’d someday fight for you, but the only fighting there is, is her fight against her thoughts and depression during the night. You’d think someday she’d be making you a coffee, and you’d surprise her with a romantic candlelit dinner in the balcony. You’d think you’d be her life, that you’d make love all night. You think she’d come home to you, but those were all images in the sky, for she is already home in her desolation, and never in your arms.

You think you’d save her, but you won’t.

She is broken, and she doesn’t have to try to be whole again just so she could suffice your need for love. She is a time bomb waiting to explode, and she doesn’t have to reduce herself to a tiny ball of light and happiness just so you could have her in your hands. She is an ear-piercing sound, like nails scratching a chalk board, and she doesn’t have to pretend as a classical music just so you could sleep in peace. She is a lethal toxic gas, and she doesn’t have to try hard to be a sweet-smelling perfume whiff just so can you indulge in her scent.

She will to be too much to handle, and too complex to contain. She was a pyramid, and you would leave. You would leave just so you can break her. You’d try to disassemble her brick by brick, stone by stone, hoping her ashes would crawl to you, because you can’t own her — because she is a breathing reminder of your failure in attempting to save her — because she defies your illusions of happiness with her. You’d think she’d get broken for you. You’d think it would plant sorrows in her mind. You’d think it would make her heart cold, but it won’t, for it is already voided to begin with. You’d think it would devastate her, but that’s where you’re wrong, for she is already ruined enough and beyond repair. She is sad, and you wouldn’t make her hate her sadness. She is already in the deepest sorrow even before you dropped her there. She is already miserable even before you try to make her feel so.

You forgot that you can’t break and destroy someone who excels at being broken and destructive.

You forgot that you can’t get her lost in the darkness, for it is her friend and her home.

You forgot that you can’t terrify her with demons, for she danced with them all her life.

You forgot that she is a disaster herself, and somehow, she will survive.

— Fray Narte |  Take out with full credits! See Flowers on your Grave for more!

No man, no country, no road.

Nothing seemed to have the warmth of my mother’s home. And that was what terrified me.

Poet from London

✧ Literary Excerpts ✧

Aries ↓

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” – Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Taurus ↓

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” - Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Gemini ↓

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.” – H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

Cancer ↓

"When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.” – Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

Leo ↓

"There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.” – Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

Virgo ↓

"Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie. Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.” – Mitch Albom, The Time Keeper

Libra ↓

"I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do. Mrs Dubose won, all ninety-eight pounds of her. According to her views, she died beholden to nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I ever knew.” - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Scorpio ↓

“Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. “I’m okay” we say. “I’m alright”. But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can’t get it off. That’s when you realize that sometimes it isn’t even an answer–it’s a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.” - Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Sagittarius ↓

"It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.” - Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation

Capricorn ↓

“I don’t have any problem understanding why people flunk out of college or quit their jobs or cheat on each other or break the law or spray-paint walls. A little bit outside of things is where some people feel each other. We do it to replace the frame of family. We do it to erase and remake our origins in their own images. To say, I too was here.” – Lidia Yuknavitch, The Chronology of Water

Aquarius ↓

"If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” - Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Pisces ↓

"Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that. You forget some things, dont you? Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.” – Cormac McCarthy, The Road

in the end, what it all comes down to
is that we all crave to not only love
and be loved in return,
but to be able to embrace the warmth
of waking up happy and content
inside our bodies and inside our minds–
because another soul can love your body
and the energy you put out in the world,
that’s easy.
but there is so much beneath the surface–
under the hard sugar coating you wrap
around yourself to come across strong.
there is something raw, unhinged
about sadness
the way it can at once be the loneliest
feeling in the entire world,
and in another can become a security blanket–
the easiest thing to fall back on because
it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.
how familiar it can become–
so familiar that you hold yourself
back from having
the chance to embrace the light
and the beauty that comes with being alive.
because uncertainty scares you,
it reminds you how easy it can be to
all at once loose everything that ever
made you happy,
and when that happiness is gone,
you are left with a shadow,
a ghost of something you weren’t sure was
ever really there.
and that is terrifying.
to wake up one day and the person
that you once were is so far gone
and you don’t know how to go back
and become her.
and if you can’t find that love
that burning flame inside your mind
that makes you feel at peace within
your own body,
that is like asking for another soul
to love someone you don’t even know.
the only love that truly can withstand
a hundred battles,
a thousand set backs,
a million nights of a storm brewing
in your veins
is the love you learn to manifest
for the inner child you never
took the time to nurture

allow the sunlight to flood the walls
of your heart you thought
could never feel whole

start to feel the smallest parts
of your soul begin to grow

—  growth

LETTER WRITTEN ON A HOSPITAL NAPKIN IN BETWEEN SURGERIES:


I think you are the coolest thing since the time I realized reindeer were real animals. I like staring at your face. I wish this was poetic but your face just gets me. I wasn’t suppose to really care about you. You aren’t suppose to be this amazing. I’ve never met someone with quite as much substance as you. I know I’ve only known you a month so this is stupid but you remind of the right kind of silences. Like the beach in the morning. Or right before you fall asleep in between states of consciousness. Or when you walk down your school hallway and there isn’t one sound. Those silences make me feel safe.
Like I exist and nothing is wrong. I don’t want to turn you into a metaphor. I can’t objectify you. I’ve calculated all the different ways I can arrange my sentences, hopeful that one would make you see just how interesting we are together. I don’t expect you to stick around and honesty I’m a very flakey person.
But I needed to say it: you’re such a wonderful thing. I really like your noggin, so much I want shake your brains out your ears and paint the walls with it. All I’m saying is I didn’t even mind that you put me in a chokehold in a taco place.
All I’m saying is people should wear you on a cross necklace and adore you for centuries.

Nights like these need soundtracks.
sext: When you first touched my leg my heart was a still lake where before I could only hear the “oh god, oh god” of the brush of his fingertips. I have spent the last year coughing soot, but you tell me I reignited the flame in your throat. Is this what it feels like to be the fire and not the stake? Forgive me for being childish, but I would like to see you burn.
— 

Sade Andria Zabala | Sexts

My books are available on etsy // WAR SONGS // Coffee & Cigarettes.

Seeking Writers!

I am looking for people who love to write it doesn’t matter whether you write fanfiction or poetry, writing is writing. I have started a new little project for myself, a literary magazine, though at the moment I’m only thinking of one issue, future issues depend on how well things go this time round. I need your help, I am searching for submissions of: Book reviews, Personal Essays, Poetry and Short Stories. You can submit several pieces of work, all the same type or you might want to send in one short story and a couple of poems, that is perfectly fine. The magazine will be published online and each person who contributes will receive a copy, likely a PDF, of the magazine in its entirety for personal use. Previously I didn’t have a closing date for submissions in mind but I would love to have this all finished and ready to go for the start of July, so the deadline for submissions is June 17th.

Please e-mail submissions or any questions to spilledinkmag@hotmail.com

Tidings in the Hall

Komið sæl og blessuð, vinir mínir!
(Come happy and blessed, my friends!)

I will keep this post brief, since there truly is not much to say. I know that I have not been as consistent about my postings as I have been in the past, but I am hoping to get into a healthy routine soon, which should help quite a bit. Yesterday was my first day back at university and my first day as a graduate student (I have an office now, which I must admit is pretty darn cool!). That said, I will need some time to get familiar with things before I can work on the more dense academic posts, such as asks, lessons, and even videos. Until then, I will still try to post Old Norse words, law excerpts, and literary quotes.

As always, thank you all for your patience and support.

Þökk, og farið vel!
(Thanks, and fare well!)

“Communication is truth; communication is happiness. To share is our duty; to go down boldly and bring to light those hidden thoughts which are the most diseased; to conceal nothing; to pretend nothing; if we are ignorant to say so; if we love our friends to let them know it.” 

—from The Common Reader by Virginia Woolf 

youtube

Excerpts from “Prolonged Misunderstanding” by Ryan Jones at Rowan University