#escapril
a single act spirals into overthinking;
if this, then that… but
you cannot let it overwhelm your senses, or
have you learnt nothing all these years?
there is more to the story, so
forget the blame and
abandon your regret, the
mistakes made in moments of weakness,
sacrilege committed against the heart,
engineered in iron will
tabernacled in your soul…
abbreviating history from its whole
–
abandon your regret, the
abbreviating history from its whole
there is more the story, so
you cannot let it overwhelm your senses, or
a single act spirals into overthinking;
sacrilege committed against the heart
tabernacled in your soul…
forget the blame and
mistakes made in moments of weakness,
engineered of iron will
if this, then that… but
have you learnt nothing all these years?
don’t be my lover,
just be my love
i’ll lust from a distance;
that’s more than enough
maybe it’s a full moon?
or maybe it’s just too soon
to expect the ordinary to feel normal again.
maybe it’s more like a prophetic purpose
unshielded from the universe,
revealed to its people
a reminder:
that troubles fade with time
but time never fades from minds
it remains…
sculpted into memory
of something lost… loved… lived…
i’m legless; a stumbling stupor of a someone
trying to stand on their own
falling, failing
finding enough courage once more
learning my legs can be borrowed
when i can’t find a thought
because inspiration is a collective;
not individually caught
when i opened my eyes,
the walls dripped red &
blue blood revenge
when i opened my eyes,
the light of your dark was
yellow sunshine, golden
when i opened my eyes,
you were empty handed,
empty hearted
when i opened my eyes,
i wished to close them,
tightly.
Lost
I think we’re lost
Lost in our heads
Lost in translation
Lost in these streets
We hustle through day after day
Make some friends along the way
But we stay lost within ourselves
Who has their life mapped out?
Aren’t we all just floating around?
How are we supposed to plan ahead
When anxiety lives rent-free in our head
May I follow in your footsteps, or do you want to try walking in my shoes?
Wherever we go, our fears will always follow
We were lost and never found
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We are not alone
As long as the moon keeps us company at sleepless nights
And the rustling leaves whisper our names
While the wind caresses our skin
We are not alone
I hope you like this excerpt of my Escapril poem! Never miss a poem or a short story I write! Comment +if you want to be added or -to be removed from my tag list (under the cut).
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Body swap
Hey, would you like to swap bodies?
You know, I’m getting tired of living in my body
Cause it feels so exhausted like it has lived too long, yet not long enough
Only at night, does it feel energetic like it could run a marathon
Give me your fit, almost perfect looking body
What’s in it for you?
Oh you see, my body has so much potential
A little exercise and a diet not based on chocolate cookies will make it look instagramable, I promise!
Plus, it will carry you wherever you want to go
It will breathe for you even if you don’t want it to
It may feel tired, but I assure you, it can stay awake for days with no sleep if you push it to this limit
Actually no, I don’t want to swap bodies with you
So don’t touch me, don’t touch me
Get your greedy hands off me
You say I treat it as a trash can, you’ll treat it as a temple?
So what, this is my body, my home
I can’t believe you’ve seen me naked
I felt so exposed
You think feeling vulnerable is a bad thing
But I’ve felt how much food you throw up to stay so thin
I don’t care, it’s not my body, it’s your home
Your body, your rules; consent works both ways
My body may not look so good, but I’m glad it carries me
I’m glad it’s my body, my home
Yes this is a shitty stream of conscious writing that sounded way cooler in my head … anyways, I’m not abusing my tag list for this, but I’m sharing this to get over my perfectionism cause most of my good ideas started out like this.
NaPoWriMo/ Escapril
So I’ve compiled this list just in case someone wants to read what I write this month. I’m trying to participate in Escapril on Instagram and NaPoWriMo on Tumblr. So far, I’m doing okay. It turns out that when you write a poem every day, most turn out unreadable, so I might only publish every third poem I write. Enough babbling! Read my poems by clicking on the links below.
Never miss a poem or a short story I write! Comment + if you want to be added or-to be removed from my tag list (under the cut).
@matcha-chai@dg-fragments@silversynthesis@heartofmuse@scatteredthoughts2@rhapsodyinblue80@alaskaisnothere@stoic-words@september-stardust@wordsforsadpeeps@writingitdown@intothevortex@aubriestar@warriorbookworm@raevenlywrites@alex-a-roman@artsymagee@giantrobocock@theheightofdepression@writing-is-a-martial-art@beautifulimposter25@callmepippin@a-musingmichelle@kirkshiresloss@rhythmiccreatorofbeuty@tini-ya-smol-beany@eos-writes
Limbs longing
It was limbs’ longing to entwine
To entwine until they lose track of which body they belong to
It was the heart’s longing to love
To love passionately and wholeheartedly
It was a hand’s longing to touch
To hold fingers tightly in the palm
It was the mind’s longing to think
To think about every moment spent together
It was the mouth’s longing to talk
To talk about everything and nothing at all
It was longing
To love and be loved
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I wrote this poem for the official third Escapril prompt limbs. It was weird to write about a romantic couple in such a depersonalized way, but I’ve tried something new. I hope you like it! Oh, also happy asexual visibility day!
@matcha-chai@dg-fragments@silversynthesis@heartofmuse@scatteredthoughts2@rhapsodyinblue80@alaskaisnothere@stoic-words@september-stardust@wordsforsadpeeps@writingitdown@intothevortex@aubriestar@warriorbookworm@raevenlywrites@alex-a-roman@artsymagee@giantrobocock@theheightofdepression@writing-is-a-martial-art@beautifulimposter25@callmepippin@a-musingmichelle@kirkshiresloss@rhythmiccreatorofbeuty@tini-ya-smol-beany@eos-writes
Strange behaviour
I laugh out loud about my own jokes until I cry about my existence
My fingers are nervously twisting strands of hair
My feet are tapping the ground like I’m performing a drum beat, every hit on the base drum
I’m the main character of my own story
Why should I be reduced to a side character?
Don’t forget your mask when you go outside!
They only have walk-on parts in my life
I act like I’m one of them, but I know that I’m not
They made sure I know that
They deemed me strange from the start
But I’d rather be a weirdo than everybody’s darling
So what if I do a little dance while waiting for the train to arrive
Give me a bow and an arrow and I’ll shoot the judging look out of your pretty face!
Am I cool yet?
Am I normal yet?
Do you like me yet?
Do you hate me already?
I will always have strange behaviour
That’s the nature of this disease
What’s my personality?
I don’t know, I have too many
But I’ve learned my lesson
Don’t let them shut you down
I’m proud and loud
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So I wrote this shitty poem for the Escapril prompt “strange behaviour” and as some of you might know I’m bipolar, so … that’s that.
@matcha-chai@dg-fragments@silversynthesis@heartofmuse@scatteredthoughts2@rhapsodyinblue80@alaskaisnothere@stoic-words@september-stardust@wordsforsadpeeps@writingitdown@intothevortex@aubriestar@warriorbookworm@raevenlywrites@alex-a-roman@artsymagee@giantrobocock@theheightofdepression@writing-is-a-martial-art@beautifulimposter25@callmepippin@a-musingmichelle@kirkshiresloss@rhythmiccreatorofbeuty@tini-ya-smol-beany@eos-writes
When I open my eyes
When I open my eyes
A soft blue light pulsates and blurs my vision
A sizzling sound informs me that my pod is ready to be opened
I remove the oxygen mask from my face and take my first breath
The air tastes stale and humid
It leaves a strange aftertaste on my pelted tongue
With immense force, I move my thumb to the right and click the switch
Slowly, the lid of my hibernation pod cracks open
For the first time in ages, my eyes dart around
The blue light is turning white, pulsating brighter by the minute
In the centre of the spaceship, a service robot boots up
My eyes settle on the small window on the far right side
A headache appears as I zoom in with my contact lenses
They focus on a strange landscape
I feel overwhelmed and close my eyes for a second
I can’t believe that we’ve made it!
The promised adventure lies ahead.
We proved them wrong!
There is a planet b after all
Never miss a poem or a short story I write! Comment + if you want to be added or - to be removed from my tag list (under the cut).
NaPoWriMo day 1 was a good start! It’s been a while since I wrote a SciFi poem. I wrote this in under 10 minutes, so it’s nothing special, but good practice. Also just to clarify this, I don’t think there is a planet b. And even if there is one, it’s no excuse to trash our Earth and fuck up our climate in hope of finding a new planet to destroy.
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She was empty space. She was a screw up. She had
a cheap
consciousness: surfacing, falling, no way to
focus, there out in the
emptiness, filled with nothing but herself and uneasy sleep.
my best friend called me up to tell me her lecturer
gave her a daffodil dipped
in liquid nitrogen, so she could watch it shatter. i still haven’t told her
what you did.
you are an easter egg, as sweet on the outside as you are
hollow on the inside.
what’s the german word for the way my throat constricts
when my mother asks how you are?
the problem is when i was five my dad left me in a hot car for longer than he should have
and i did not once try to get out.
the problem is you’re an escape room that’s become a little too homely
and for once i want to know what it is to be
a chemical that corrodes, instead of shards of frozen flowers trodden under foot.
i. maybe all poetry
should begin with a cottage by the sea. it takes a decade for memories to mature.
this one: ripe enough to squeeze, to drench
in nostalgia. the house we rented was called erin.
i wanted to
have begun there,
tried to fill my suitcase with pebbles and sand so i could take it home with me. but before i
forget, and trust me, i will,
let us recall all those little scratches: my feet torn up like a patio from running around
shoeless, my skin the colour of poison apples
from the heatwave that kept me up at night tossing and turning like
a child buried alive, my sister reading my diary
aloud while i jumped up at her like a chihuahua; crying, trying to snatch back my secrets,
the mouthfuls of waves
punching my throat like fistfuls of death.
see?
not everything is the way
i would rather remember.
ii. maybe no one should write poetry about an april day in glasgow,
unless they lived one the way we did.
one year ago, back when we were new at this. when you span me around your city
like a spool of thread. remember when
you still cared to unravel me? anyway,
the icecream was sweet and your hand in mine was sweeter still.
three natural wonders of the world in one day:
that second hand bookshop,
right next to the vegetarian café with the lentil soup we loved,
and your smile when i was the reason.
but before i am further seduced by my mistress nostalgia
there was
that yellow typewriter i should’ve bought, and how our best friend told us he was moving back
home instead of in with me
and the way you wouldn’t stop talking about your ex girlfriend. still,
it was a good day.
we used to have a lot of those.
iii. none of my poems will begin or end
with you anymore.
i am nostalgic for who i was last week. my sincerest condolences to
the version of myself who believed you
would never hurt me.
i am nostalgic for the person i thought you were,
i’ll always miss the girl who only kissed me.
Escapril
Day I: Dawn
At five I am awake for the dewy blush coloured dawn
Forehead pressed against cold glass
As light slips it’s way over the garden wall.
In that crisp anticipating air the world is born
Anew. Frost, coloured pink by the light,
Glints to mark the end of the long, long night
And I, cup warm in my hand, window cold on my skin,
Smile gripping my chin,
Think, maybe, that the world will still put up a fight.
aphrodite
a spark shoots across the night
star brave amidst the still shine
rushing
to catch up with itself
rushing
to catch up with the seafoam,
frothing at the yawning blue
the yawning blue sets
to soothe the foolhardy spark
dives into its depths to greet Eos as she arrives
within the yawning blue
star brave is deathless
such deathlessness led Astrae
into rosy embrace
diminishing blue touch
availing to great rise
saffron speckling sky
spark falls
seafoam froths
a mayfly hatched at night
#escapril2022 day four. a strange behaviour.
your hair is riverstone-smooth in my hands,
every braid i put in slipping out as easy
as my secrets do around you. do you remember
telling me you wanted to hinge your ribcage
open, just to check if the bones are hollow? wait
another season, at least. i filled them with seeds
that’ll only grow when no one’s looking. i know
patience won’t save us, but we were always good
at being quiet, and that’s almost the same,
our silence bright as the sun slipping underwater,
soft as the touch of moonlight on concrete,
promise-heavy as the storm-clouds gathering
overhead. so it goes. so you keep tending
the pearl-pale fire of the smile floating faceless
in the night-forest dark over your left shoulder.
there’s some strange desolation in knowing
our child-selves won’t recognize us when we
meet them again. but if you turn into flood
i’ll be the moon and say i led you there, say
i played puppetmaster with all your sightless
tides, so you can blame me if that’ll leave you
untouched by the weight of this world’s ending
and i’ll seal the sky closed with the last of the light.
—q.l. | for day #12 of @avolitorial’s napowrimo prompts
