mybloodonthepage

[mybloodonthepage]

generation fucked the ozone is torn, the same as our jeans- debris fills the oceans, we stare at screens they say kids these days don't know how to work i think we've just given up on the earth

political movements, ethical lies, the hope seeping out, life leaving our eyes; the end of the world or maybe it's just the start of the world turning us to dust

one half berate us, the rest denying that anything's wrong, but we're still finding despair and discouragement on every side grandpa calls me lazy, but i'm so tired.

we're sat here watching our planet dying the wealthy ones lift, sympathy flying over broken hearts and broken cities cracks in the world, the cracks living in me

we hold the gun, but they've loaded ammo is it too late to say that i don't know if it's worth it to fix, to tape it up? to try to swim when the water's this rough?

the resilience in me's leaving quick the sky's turning grey, the planet's getting sick the cough of capitalism rings out there's nowhere to run, west, north neither south

but i'll head on east, bolt right past the hills dive into the sea, drowning while they kill the trees and the leaves, the birds and the bees generation fucked, guess that's all we'll be

[mybloodonthepage]

will the dogs know i'm mourning?

will the dogs know i'm mourning, so late in the night eyes red and bloodshot in the warm kitchen light? they don't know how the news all came up on my phone, the weight sitting on me, the loss of a home

will the dogs know i'm mourning, if i don't wear black? i can't go to the service, can't cry coming back no funeral closure. will the two ever know that i'm mourning a life, if it isn't a show?

will the dogs know i'm mourning with a closed bathroom door? only letting myself let it out on that floor not in the bedroom, my dad in the next not in the hallway, kitchen to my left

will the dogs know i'm mourning if i pull on a smile, and i dance 'round the living room floor for a while, to a song i've known all of the words to for years, the chorus just breaking me down into tears?

will the dogs know i'm mourning when the tide seeps away, just me and the posters on the walls left to say all that we think about all that he was nothing else left; no more news, no more shock

will the dogs know i'm mourning when the sun rises later, when the sky fills with gold, and nothing fills the crater in my head, where he used to live, like a saviour? maybe i got too attached, but that's just human nature

will the dogs know i'm mourning every day of my life, a man that didn't know me? loss is still a knife. i don't think that i'll ever be ready for farewell, but the dogs don't know that, so there's no-one to tell.

- n. 

[mybloodonthepage]

some days i feel like an ocean breeze, like a circle of wind, like a hissing sea, nacreous and cruel, missing my glee in need of a shower, in need of some ease a sussurus of life, weak and bitter the shell of a boy, his will so much thinner than it once was, just a child in the river fresh like the apples, sweeter than his sister waltzing through life, when it was all simple not quite perfect, but nowhere near the impulse: it leaves me stranded now, on the borderline.

– n., mybloodonthepage  

[mybloodonthepage]

it's wednesday again, another week lost: another week of your skin on mine as the cost of your sage old wisdom of teen heartbreak and of the storm rippling, still, in our wake. it's quiet tonight, like it was eight weeks past, when i was dragged, pushed, by you into dark; no truth, just the dare of you leaving us both, despite your pinky-swear, closer to an oath the promise you made; we would always be near, instead you just left, falling fast for the fear but, i suppose, we're all mad here.

– n., mybloodonthepage

[mybloodonthepage]

armistice (the war ended this morning)

The guns on the front lines have come to an end And the bellow of shells has retired again. After the battles, with so many deaths, The ill, old and injured will finally rest

Brown with the mud and grey with the fatigue, The soldiers too tired to be glad, it seems. Their feet are stumbling on shelled-down streets, Wagon wheels creaking with the weight of disease

It is quiet today, for the first time in years— Not a bullet or bomb, just the bleating of deer and our boys walking out, shedding small tears; Many of joy, but some of them fear.

The war ended this morning with German calls for peace; As the clock struck eleven, crowds filling our streets. Ignored are the puddles of blood at their feet, The deaths left unspoken make it feel a defeat.

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

(happy saturday!)

it's saturday again, so i slept well past ten, and then i washed the dirty sheets on my bed. i sang that pilots song, then messaged a friend: 'happy saturday!' but it all feels like the end

because today marks the week where i no longer can count the saturday's since us all on one hand, and i know it's not your fault, but i'm not a fan of the way you're scattered through my life, like sand;

or maybe not sand, but just salt on the wound, or maybe a fight that ends in the truth. but that can't be it, because you wouldn't do anything wrong, ever, no— would you?

that's up to you to decide, after all because i'll keep my mouth shut well after the fall, and you'll spit out lies, make yourself ten-feet tall. it was never your fault? nothing, at all?

today is saturday, so i'll lay up tonight and i'll think about how you once touched me just right, and i'll think how happy you are now, what a sight— or maybe i'll just go book myself a flight;

to some cooler place where the heat isn't blinding, where you don't cause cracks in what i call 'thriving', somewhere people think that a promise is binding. happy saturday, i guess. hope mine were worth fighting.

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

"so ocd."

three letters you curse, like its halfway the same, like your clouded sky compares to my plains which are flooded every day by this painful rain and you have the nerve to laugh how i'm "strange" because sometimes i have to lock myself away, just to keep from causing a break i can't fix 'cause of some thought i had that day and you have the nerve to just laugh and claim when you dye your hair it's all somehow the same without stopping to recognise all of the pain that i have spent hours learning to face and i carry with me every fucking day but you spit out my illness and make it sound foul like being a clean freak is somehow all around an identical habit to fighting a sound thats screaming from inside my head, far too loud you tell me that my mind is dragging you down my thoughts are burning all your sacred ground but i'm the one who had to fight not to drown and i'm the one bearing the weight of this cloud is it real if i don't wear this pain like a crown? if i dont tell the world, then it feels like i've found an excuse for the ups but never the downs, not the days when it feels like i'm the stormcloud and i break my own heart on all those bad days, so i sometimes spend hours washing bloodstains; they're always my own but i know that'd change if the voice at the back moved forward in my brain so i lock myself out every time there's a blade and i don't walk away from the safe spot of shade under the eaves where my i keep my pain caged 'cause i don't want to watch it all get away and create a victim that has to be saved by the people i see on tv every day and maybe that's why i keep feeling this way maybe none of this will ever feel remotely okay

i feel myself fall apart when i close that door and it all falls apart every time there's a storm cause i wonder what it's like to feel it all worn, feel the rain on your skin and feel lightning scorn when it shocks your soul right into the dawn like that guy on the show that i watched in the fall and i don't know when i lost my train of thought or if i even ever had one at all five minutes ago my brain ached to close doors, now i'm thinking of him, dead in the storm but he found a way to fight back, turn the score so its one point for him and none for the lord and i wish that were some inspiration for me, and i wish it gave spirit to fight my own grief all the demons that stand in the corner and keep me up at night crying, stopping the sleep that even i realise i desperately need but theres nothing i can even try to be other than the broken shell you can see with all of these cracks and slowly ripping seams; i'm a scared little kid even though i'm a teen, so maybe that character won't ever be me and maybe i just won't survive the lightning, instead feel every day of this pain i can't leave

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

miss u.

heard from a friend, you're doing better than ever you're smiling and laughing, you got yourself centred and maybe some nights you sleep for just a while, though you never did when it was you and i,

and i know it was my fault, i pushed you out that door but i still sit up thinking of before, like the first day i saw you when it all went our way, when i told you i loved you, first time face to face

i haven't slept right in almost a week not since you texted, and i felt you leave and i dont know why but i can't let you go and i can't force a smile, not even for show

so maybe you're better for all of this pain, maybe you were right, ending our strain but i just want you back, the way that we started i want to call up and know you'll say you want it

but if i reach out and you tell me you can't, say that its over, i don't get one last chance? i think that would break me, that would be the last straw so i'll be right here, if you decide to call.

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

saw you again for the first time today, you talked to the teacher, didnt look my way with the tote bag you said you wanted to bring felt like a punch to the gut, and i think maybe i knew it would feel like this but i hoped that i wouldnt hurt such for the rift i thought maybe the anger would drown out the pain that the sun of our past would be hid by the rain but i still remember you holding me then on that bathroom floor, when i wished for death i cried and i sobbed and you kissed my head and maybe i shouldn't have let it all end right now i wish you were stroking my hair with my head in your lap, brushing out the despair but you're not, and you can't, and god, i feel weak because i know i'd say yes if you came back to me.

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

grant my love like residency, a permanent place etched in me, i loved you then so i love you now and i'll love you if the ship goes down; the storms are coming, as they always will, and you'll make a sand grain of my molehill

you can keep the love letters, and i'll keep my sweater swear you meant better, but we weren't made for forever and i want to pass blame, want to throw shade because you left me there, you cried and then strayed from the visions you promised me, seven months long and i'll have to leave, but its your fault thats gone,

so don't try to say that you miss what we had you'd do me no better if i ever came back, we've tried to before and it worked for a time, but you just get sicker, get stuck in your mind, and its not your fault that your brain keeps winning but its your fault you let me go down in the killing

don't call and don't message, block me if you like don't read my poems and don't text me goodnight, i tried to save face, tried to leave with my heart, because you're the one who brought us into the dark, and i'm sick of half-love, sick of wishing for more i'd rather have nothing than sit by the door

i am halfway gone, you broke my heart, and i suppose it was my fault, if only in part, because i was the fool who loved someone like you someone who could never give me "i do", and now it's all over, i can bare my own truth, it was shit while it lasted, but i'll always love you...

– n.

[mybloodonthepage]

what is one line of poetry/writing that lives in ur head rent free please share i would like to know 

[mybloodonthepage]

[mybloodonthepage]

i dont care who youre hanging out with, i dont know where youve been. you posted on your story, i tried to ignore the crib.

i hope your girl is doing okay and i heard your work is good. i hope she leaves your sorry ass, and burns that fucking book.

[mybloodonthepage]

dear stranger,

i saw you crying on the train. you had your headphones on and you wiped your eyes and you looked out the window, like the passing of the outside world would pass the pain. like if you moved on as fast as the train, you could let go of the scenery of your life and i want to know why. do you not get along with your dad anymore? was lunch just a little too hard, last night a little too dark? did the family dinner stress you out, was the office today just a little too loud? did you drop your phone or break your computer? what did you lose, to make you cry like a widower? was it pride, or was it a love? was it something you can't recover?

i wanted to lean over. to tap you on the knee and offer a smile and promise it would all be alright. but i was crying too, on the other side of the aisle, not in your line of sight. i wiped my own tears and watched yours fall, and i hope youll forgive that i said nothing at all. i know it seems false, i said nothing that night, but i still sit up and hope youre alright.

i love you more than you could ever know

- the boy on the train, with the fluffy black coat

[mybloodonthepage]

i'm nova ✮ he/they ✮ queer ✮ sagittarius ✮ aus ✮ wannabe loser boyfriend ✮ puddle of anxiety ✮ minor ✮ infp-t ✮ chronic oversharer ✮ inattentive adhder ✮ born a stargazer ✮ writer, poet, dreamer ✮ unpaid comedian ✮ on the fast track to burnout ✮ ao3 addict ✮ socialist ✮ theatre nerd ✮ i don't keep my mouth shut for anybody ✮ free palestine!! ✮

my rules ✮ all my poems are my own ✮ i do not allow the reposting of my work but if you enjoy it, please reblog ✮ you are welcome to leave prompts in my ask box, and i will get back to you as inspiration strikes. you can't put a deadline on art ✮ do not send any kind of hate to myself or in retaliation to others ✮ please only use my ask box for prompts - for anything else, come send an ask on my main ✮ 

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