writing poems on this

You could’ve said sorry,
and I’ll forgive you—
again and again.

I could’ve listened.

And everything
still could’ve been
the same.

—  ma.c.a // Wishful Thinking
The skin that you are in is beautiful. You don’t have to be lighter. You don’t have to be darker. You don’t have to lose your scars. You don’t need to hide your stretch marks. You don’t need to wear make up unless you like it. There is no addendum or asterisk to that statement. The skin you are in is beautiful. Period. End of.
—  Nikita Gill, The Skin You Are In
Take my hand, and cleanse my tainted heart with the ocean you hold in your eyes. Come and grace this old, ugly skin with your soft kisses. I am in terrible need of your love.
—  Lukas W. // Love me
I’m a perfectionist and yet, nothing in me is perfect. I still think the best solution to problems is crying, I still avoid confrontation and I still write my feelings instead of talking about them but I’m getting better and if I can do it, so can you.
—  giulswrites
Failed Attempt

I tried to forget about you
As the summer passed
And autumn arrived
While the air grew cooler
And your touch became
A distant mountain
That refused to move
With the slow pace
I walked
When times got hard—

I tried to lock away my feelings
And failed miserably
When the sun became too bright
And your memory
Painted all my dreams
The shade of dusk

I tried to escape
Thoughts of you
With a heavy heart
And an empty shadow
Of who I used to be
Only to remember
I wasn’t really living
Until I found you;
My days had a feeling
Of completeness
When your hands held mine
And your love
Always kept me burning
For something more
Than what I believed
I deserved—

When I spend nights
Under clouds of loss
I pull tree branches
Close to my chest
Just to feel something;
I’ve locked a piece of my heart
Inside of yours
And it’s impossible to forget
That the beating in my chest
Matches the beating in yours
No matter the distance between us

So forgive me as I try to forget you
Even though it’s done in vain,
And foolishly
I’ll keep pretending
To spend my days
Looking for your replacement
When knowing it does not exist.


[i come out /in the garden, /reduce myself /in your sun; /while you resemble /holi, dampish cardamom, /kissed by a

stranger /beneath your /lungs—reincarnated /into my veins, /you are, metaphor for /ursa minor, my /wetland tongue]

She said she felt nothing

She said she felt nothing
When I said I love her
But the words still poured out
Yearning for ears to hear

She said she felt nothing
When I hugged her so tight
My heartbeat erratic
Against her heart’s dull thuds

She said she felt nothing
When I kissed her pale lips
That sensation lingers
Only for one lover

She said she felt something
But I got up and left 
As I was her nothing
And I lost everything

Something Like This

I have always wanted to write a love poem
about how your eyes can steal the stars
or you know, something like that.

Something like how we are snows falling
to your bed, melting through the night
only to be seeped by your sheets.

Something like how your kisses are sparks
exploding aimlessly to my dusky mouth,
granting me a newborn morning.

Something like how we are clouds floating
above the city, embracing the pink skies
with the flushness of our smiles.

I have always wanted to write a love poem
about how we are vivid hues gleaming
through the wonders of the seasons.

Something like how we are both here,
watching the autumn leaves confetti
instead of disastrously falling apart.

the adventures of poets

eating a soul for breakfast

getting our hearts chewed by our muses

spitting some blood

spilling some blood

writing, rhyming, musing

crying, silent screams

eating our heart for lunch

spilling guts in a poem

grieving grieving grieving

skipping dinner

pillows covered in tears

band-aid the remnants of us

trying to sleep

waking up just to repeat

It wasn’t your words that broke my heart. It was that smile upon your face, wetted by tears. It was all the pain inside it, as if you ripped something out of yourself because you deemed it better roaming free. You only smiled because it kept our broken hearts beating. I wasn’t heartbroken because you said it was over. I was heartbroken because I saw that you were in pain and everything I could do wasn’t what could’ve helped you. I just felt like I left you behind dying.
—  excerpt from a story I’ll never write

my hands are dragging along the walls 
as I try and find my way out,
but my own voice is echoing 
through these abandoned halls 
and the fingerprints I am leaving 
behind me like a trail are too small
to be from now, maybe it was all
lost when I was a little girl
left in the canned good aisle 
in a supermarket 
that has long since closed;
I still can’t find my way
back to the sliding doors
that always seemed to open
on their own-
isn’t it funny how magic exists
and problems don’t 
when you are too little to know 
that life is just getting lost 
in a bunch of different places.

- on wandering through a life I don’t remember entering || O.L.

The Demonology of Drugs

I am Azazel, scapegoat of alprazoloam
I am Beelzebub, lord of benzos
I am Choronzon, dweller of clonazepam
I am the demiurge, ruler of DMT
I am Eligos, the knight of ecstasy
I am Forneus, beloved flubromazolam
I am Gaap, prince of GHB
I am Haures, divine sleep dealer of Halcion
I am Ipos, the foolish vision of Ibogaine
I am Jaldabaoth, the dark side of the joint
I am Kali, the dark mother Ketamine
I am Lucifer, the lover seeking divinity of LSD
I am Moloch, blissfully devouring MDMA
I am Naberius, artist of nitrous
I am Orobas, the dignified nod of Oxycontin
I am Paimon, the king of peyote
I am Qemuel, forgotten creature of quaaludes
I am Raum, the crow of Robitussin
I am Samael, the angel of salvia
I am Titivillus, scribe of triazolam
I am Ukobach, infernal goblin of Unisom
I am Vassago, vampire of Valium
I am Wendigo, cannibal of weed
I am Xolotl, the evening star of Xanax
I am Yeqon, watcher of yayo
I am Zepar, passionate dreamer of zolpidem