cicadastoner

[cicadastoner]

The willow garden

Deep in the garden, where the willow tree lies, sits my true love. Face etched in stone and name lay below, he waits for me. I sit before him, stealing his time, and when the sun sets I dare not move. No whispers in the wind nor eyes in the trees could detour me from my love.

As I stare at the stone blow my feet, peering into the darkness, wondering, fearing. Will my true love meet me at the gates so pearly and whole? Or will he distain a name he does not know? For I know my love. I've memorized every curve, line, and pit in his face. I imagine those dark eyes as he tells me he loves me and holds me close. Late nights on the porch spent in each others company is all I long for.

I retreat to my garden and gaze upon my love with yearning so intense it consumes my soul. As I return to my home, with its peeling paint and faint smell of mold, It feels like I've left a bit of my heart beneath the willow tree. I think of him when we're apart and bask in his attention when he can only give it to me. I shall be the sole receiver forevermore.

Later, when the night comes and the shadows dance on my wall, I imagine my true love coming for me. I leave my windows open so his whispers can thread through my drapes and land softly on my pillow, tangling in my hair. The ghost of his breath warms my face and the thought of him floods my dreams.

When i walk through town I feel the eyes of my peers, I know they could never see me the way my true love does. Their love could never make me feel as whole so why even try? I know they judge with their stares and intrusive questions. They don't understand our love. They never could. At least I know he will never judge me.

The days spent alone stretch into weeks but I visit my love daily. Scarce few attempt to catch glimpses of me with my love, gain material for their jests, but they never make it back to town. My love will keep me safe always and I shall do the same.

Before long I stand over my love once again. Grass stained knees lower once more to earth. I stare at the stone I keep clean, scrubbed weekly so his eyes always shine. I lay where his body once was and pretend he's beside me. I divulge my life to him for he can have every second. My life can be his.

I know he would love me if he saw me, the same way I fell for him once I read the name on the tombstone.

[cicadastoner]

Cocoon

I don't feel safe in my skin, like a caterpillar trapped in its cocoon. There's no fear, not repression, just numb acceptance. I don't think I'll ever leave my cocoon, as much as it burns my skin its familiar. It may not be safe but I know how it feels. Leaving does sound nice, but its so much work and all my energy goes into my cocoon. I can't remember a time before my cocoon. Even if I wasn't inside it, it was always apart of me. I'm scared that if I leave my cocoon that part will stay, drawing me back inside to its uncomfortable warmth.

I can hear people outside my cocoon. Their voices are muffled and warped. Sometimes they feed me praise and hope. Other times they feed me bile.

I don't grow in my cocoon, in fact I'm quite stagnant, but I dream. I dream of growing wings and flying. I dream of destroying my cocoon. Maybe one day I'll accept my cocoon around me without falling victim to its pits. Maybe my cocoon will become my wings.

I feel my cocoon wrapping tightly around me. I am in its clutches. I see all my friends flying and wonder why I'm still in my cocoon. It's time for me to grow wings yet my back remains bare. For I do not know how to grow wings. I am stuck inside my cocoon.

[cicadastoner]

Grief settles like lead.

Some men will never see me as anything more than a womb for their use. They will never see me. No matter how much I prove my intelligence I will never be as smart as them, they will never respect me. I know this, I live with this, and the grief it creates sits in my stomach forevermore.

I can ignore them, ban them from my life, and I do. But the knowledge that they exist will never leave my brain and the grief will never leave my stomach.

To know that when I lie with a man I may not be seen as equal, that even my father may see me as less than my brother, and that I can never change that. I can scream and cry, I can beg and plead, but that will simply label me as emotional. My self worth is dependent on whether a man see's me and if I don't want that attention something must be wrong with me.

The grief in my stomach grows heavier and their empathy is feather-light.

I can not let myself be consumed by this grief. In their eyes this grief in my stomach is nothing more than a fallacy created for attention. For that is all I could ever want, male attention. I was created to birth his children and do his chores. To carry on a name other than mine. A woman can not be trusted to carry something as important as a name.

To know that I could become trapped in a marriage with a man who does not see me as equal, that this happens to so many women alike, churns the grief in my stomach. I could find the man I deem the one, create a life with him, and never know he see's me as less. For he knows if he reveals this I will leave. So he weaves it into our life in small, subtle ways that I may never catch.

I hope that one day this idea we have created will be stomped out, but I have no faith in that notion. It is so deeply woven into our culture, our beings, that most times men don't realize they're following the ideal.

But it will always be there.

In the way you speak to me. How you feel you must explain everything to me. The way you "protect" me. The way I must explain everything multiple times. When you talk over me. How you don't remember the things I love, the things I've talked about thousands of times. The fact that you don't know my eye color or when I'm lying while I have memorized every expression you make and the way your eyes change with the sun. How you get frustrated when I cry. How you minimize my emotions in favor of logic. How you weaponize your words and feign incompetence.

How you never try to understand the grief in my stomach.

[cicadastoner]

Mortality and humanity lie hand in hand yet are seldom together. It's so easy to look at a tombstone and not realize the human beneath you. Maybe you refuse to connect the dots in fear of the sorrow that follows. While the sorrow hurts its an essential hurt. The fear of death is one we all share. No matter how devote you claim to be that uneasiness of the unknown lies within us all. Maybe that's why its so easy to disconnect from the truth of the bodies beneath our feet. To see the names etched into stone and not realize that they too had a family and people who loved them. To abuse and steal from those we promised a peaceful rest. But I truly believe the sooner we accept and feel the sorrow so common in our world the sooner we connect. Some pain is meant to be felt, to learn from, to grow. And the more you let yourself feel the more your flowers will blossom.

[cicadastoner]

I’m happy to reveal to you all that I dress like Adam Sandler 😭

This is so cute thanks for the tag lovely ❤️❤️

I wasn't tagged, BUT I saw @phenanthreneblue do this and it was so fucking cute!

Look at me being a little guy

Tagging: @rayslittlekitten @emilykaldwen @foxinthegodswood @queen--kenobi

[cicadastoner]

CICADAS!!!

Just wanted to make some cicadas <3

[cicadastoner]

[cicadastoner]

People I'd like to get to know better!

@a-babe-without-a-name tagged me and I am their newest court jester so I shall entertain (thanks love <3)

Last song: Lunch by Billie Eilish (I'm a raging girl lover)

Favorite color: Red, specifically blood red

Last book: The last book I finished was Tender is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica, an absolutely amazing but very dark dystopian book. I am currently reading My Year of rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh.

Last movie: Whisper of the heart, my favorite Studio Ghibli movie

Last TV show: Either New Girl or Yellowjackets I forgor

Favorite flavor: Salty, perfect for a salty bitch like me :)

Craving: Vanilla ice cream, specifically from McDonalds (they have the best ice cream when the machine actually fucking works)

Tea or coffee: Southern sweet tea, I drink like a gallon in a week it's bad

Currently working on: Maybe an arcane fic maybe not, I haven't decided, also learning new shit on guitar

Last thing I googled: Tumblr, I don't have it book marked

Looking forward to: Spring term :) I'm a nerd and actually enjoy college. I love learning new things bro and I'm a STEM girly so there's always something new to learn.

Current obsession: Arcane, The Last of Us, clowns, and science? I mean I feel like to be a scientist you have to be obsessed with science which I defo am, specifically marine biology cause I wanna be a researcher :)

I wanna see @buggycat and @somewillwin do this, only if you want of course. This was fun though I love reading through these on my feed and collecting facts about the people I follow.

[cicadastoner]

Love is so beautiful, so misunderstood, and so underappreciated.

Yes, love can lead to heartbreak, grief, and sadness but isn't that what makes it so amazing. You loved someone so deeply that your world seemingly fell apart without them and yet you got up and loved again. What an amazing human being you are.

To feel so strongly about a person that you would give anything for even a minute of their time. To know how badly it could end, how broken you would be, and persist none the less. To chase a person like oxygen and feel simply euphoric in their presence. Love is truly a wonder of life and I'm so happy we get to experience it.

Love is beautiful and complex and scary and everything all at once yet you endure. I can't even put into words how amazing that is.

Go out and love. Love people, things, ideas. Love openly with your whole heart, don't take it for granted.

Sure you might get hurt, but that's how you know you did it right. You'll cry until you dry heave and your eyes hurt, then you'll pick yourself up and love again because that is the wonderful being you are. You are so much stronger than you know and so so full of love.

And at the end of the day when you feel like you have no more love to give you love yourself because that is the most important person in your life. You draw a hot bath and sit and think about how you'll love again tomorrow and the day after that.

[cicadastoner]

I don't know how to exist without grief, it's embedded too deep. Woven into my soul to create a tapestry of tragedy destined to the flame of madness. I burn with passion, overflow with creativity, and yearn with my heart

yet it's never enough to loosen the fist seizing my soul. And through all the trials I've endured, everyway I've tried to rip the grief out of me, it remains.

And I don't know who I would be without it.

There's something so intrinsically beautiful about a soul lost in grief because it loved.

While the grief intertwines with my organs and lies between the folds in my brain, I know I am capable of feeling, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

[cicadastoner]

Photo By Ann E. Zelle 1986

[cicadastoner]

hi

you have a lot of beautiful things here

(though it feels unfair that so many of beautiful things have to be born from sadness)

i wish you well

Hello love, thank you so much.

I guess I’m a way sadness is my muse. It sounds worse than it is. Writing is a way for me to let out all my emotions, it makes me feel lighter, and sadness seems to produce the best pieces. I am well and I hope you are too sweetness <3

[cicadastoner]

Realizing your parents don't respect you is not for the faint of heart. Fully digesting the meal in front of you, a narcissistic mom and emotionally absent father, leaves you with stomach pains. You'll spend countless nights in your bed wondering what you did wrong, when it changed, if they ever loved you at all.

They have to love you, you're their child, but as a person, do they truly like you?

They don't show it in words. Commenting on your weight, belittling your fears, mocking your secrets. They don't show it in actions. Invading your space, breaking your things, forgetting you exist. They don't remember the things you like, what flavor is your favorite or what colors you refuse to wear. Instead they buy you vanilla flavored treats and an orange jumper hoping to make up for the words they spewed in anger.

Your mom will force you into hugs that feel suffocating hoping to bandage the bullet wound she left to get infected when you were a child. She'll buy you all the useless items you never wanted filling the gap in your relationship with rampant over consumerism. She'll tell you she loves you daily but wait expectantly for you to return the sentiment that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. She'll break down crying and apologizing for what she did, the mess she made, only to repeat the cycle again tomorrow.

Your dad will stand off to the side and watch it happen. He'll encourage you to patch a relationship you dismissed years ago. He'll spoon feed you sentiments of how hard life is as if you're not living it. He'll snap and yell only to apologize and insist he loves you, you know that right? Though now, the apologies are few and far between. You'll have to bite your tongue as you watch the conflict behind his eyes. You know he's just as trapped as you are but you can't feel sorry for him anymore.

You'll mourn the loss of your mother as she serves you dinner and despise what your father has become as he picks at his food. None of you eat. A bite or two followed by a rushed excuse to leave is the normal, that's if you don't eat in your room.

You'll search for them in the crowd, hoping they took your invitation, but you're disappointed again. You eventually stop inviting them, the pain of their absence too much. They'll find out and ask you why you're ashamed of them, why you don't want them around for your accomplishments, and you'll shrug absent of emotion. You learned not to show emotion years ago.

You'll go to your friends houses and watch as their parents dote over them and they complain, the longing look in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed. You'll spend the night and pretend you belong, you take advantage of the kindness you seldom feel knowing that once morning comes its back to your parents. You'll relish in the radiating warmth and baby photos of a family you wish you had lining the walls. You'll wonder if you deserve the kindness and warmth, even if for just a moment.

This, of course, doesn't come without guilt. Every action has a reaction and as much as you can defend your side with logic you still feel bad for taking it. It isn't in one's nature to defy their parents, yet you do it with so much confidence you wonder if you're really a good person. After all they gave you a home, food and water, they paid for you to do sports in school and bought you all the newest technologies. But the shelter and food didn't come without a reminder of its source, and how easily it could be taken away. You never really liked sports either and the countless phones and laptops were just to steal your attention so they didn't have to give it to you.

You gave up the idea of a warm home and loving parents years ago. Left with a hole in your heart you fill with partners who act just like them. You're stuck in the riptide being thrown around and flipping in every direction until you don't know which way is up. You try desperately to break this curse you're under but old habits die hard and you're stubborn.

You know how to break the curse, by giving yourself the love you seek. Affirming the child in yourself that there's still time and work to be done. But you're so tired and not even sure you're capable of love much less deserving.

So you swallow the bite you're chewing and will the bile back down your throat. You ignore the tears stinging your eyes and the hammering in your chest. You ignore the pulling feeling leading you out in favor of laying back down in bed. You ignore the persistent ache in your heart. You sit with the stomach ache from your meal knowing deep down you have to feel it, there's no way around it. You sit and you hope that one day you can swallow something softer, something kinder, that fills your heart with warmth instead of wanting.

[cicadastoner]

I need a friend who actually likes affection so bad bro. All my friends dislike affection but I love them so much and need them to know that 😔

[cicadastoner]

Its all consuming.

It seeps from my pores, breathes through my lungs, tingles on my tongue-

it stains my hands and clothes when it falls from my lips.

I spend hours trying to scrub it out-

no matter what chemical I use it persists-

an ugly stain.

I see it on others too-

holding them with a grip so tight its strangling.

They see it on me.

We recognize each other.

Waiting until its hungry again and feeding it with self loathing and betrayal.

Watching as it grows before my crumpling body-

consuming once again.

[cicadastoner]

Honey River

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

When I woke that morning it was cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones.

I stare at the ceiling for far too long. Thinking about everything yet nothing.

I don’t feel. I don’t want to feel. That would be too overwhelming.

I simply float in a river of honey.

Occasionally the waves drag me under.

Swimming back up feels impossible, yet I always make it.

Everyone says this is an accomplishment, I don’t feel accomplished. I feel tired.

So I drink enough caffeine to power a horse, that’s the only way to make the tired go away. The only way to feel alive. The only way to feel real.

I think that’s how I feel, not real.

Like life is the reflection on a pond. If I reach out and touch it it will ripple and disappear.

Most people don’t know how it feels to feel fake. When they ask how you feel, and you answer honestly, they just give you an odd look. I don’t answer honestly.  

My river of honey is full of white lies. They keep me afloat.

Everyone says one day the honey river will turn into water. Like it once was. But I’m not sure if it ever was water. Or if I believe it will turn into water.

Honey doesn’t just become water.

[cicadastoner]

A haiku about cicadas <3 ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz

Cicadas outside my house

They are very loud