tea-and-rybread

[tea-and-rybread]

ive never broken a bone, even in my childhood i ran through the streets wild and carefree, i climbed up the tallest trees looked down at the shrinking leaves. i would jump from the highest points and some how land on my feet as tengles ran up my legs like cunffette on my birthday. i was 5 then 6 then 10 then 12 and somehow ive yet to brake a bone. i started to run in 7th grade, made friends with self decay, needles and pins run across broken skin, patched up with hopes and dreams that washed away like a tidle wave. drawings in my own self pitty as the water consums me. and then i realized that i cant breathe. craked ribs and scorched limbs, and yet, ive never broken a bone. it was freshman year when i realized that friends weren't built to last, retrieve my olive branch, burn briges as if it was a task, cover my face with a mask and act like i will never go back. call out the self distribution of my friends but in the end, i was the problem and still, ive never broken a bone. it was just this year i relized that my body was full of dread, take pills to supplement the missing chemicals in side my head, cross out days on the calendar like it was just a never ending bingo game. the way my chest crakles like fierworks on the forth of july, the burning in my lungs as ash and sinder esacpe with every breath that i heave and yet, ive never broken a bone. the reality of seeing that i am nothing more then this holwed out vesul filled with systems ment to keep me alive, but what's the point if i cant see what it means die. i play sientist with my medicines, conduct a new study on why i feel like ive been split in two and the fact that even with all that, ive never broken a bone.

-r.g.

[tea-and-rybread]

so good

There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

Edit- I added the visualizer for this piece on my YT, check it out here

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[tea-and-rybread]

“I’m not everything I want to be, but I’m more than I was, and I’m still learning.”

— Charlotte Eriksson, Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself

[tea-and-rybread]

Here is what they don’t tell you:

Icarus laughed as he fell. Threw his head back and yelled into the winds, arms spread wide, teeth bared to the world.

(There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring.)

The wax scorched his skin, ran blazing trails down his back, his thighs, his ankles, his feet. Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers, close enough to snatch back. Death breathed burning kisses against his shoulders, where the wings joined the harness. The sun painted everything in shades of gold.

(There is a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the centre of the flames.)

[tea-and-rybread]

God, this line, so good wtf.

I paint flowers so they will not die.

[tea-and-rybread]

lost between the memories of something i have never seen, i wish to understand, i wish to feel, i wish to see. to believe in something i have never seen, to feel something i'll never be. i can't change the past but i can create the future. A place to feel a live, a place to be home i am meant to be. i will live so passionately so i can die so peacefully. i will love and feel so much it may kill me, i dream of something so close yet so far away, and maybe it's just meant to be this way. and i think of the in between, a feeling of wanting something more but i'm to tired to get off this floor. the triumph murmurs of the one's that came before, yelling and screaming, telling me to be something more. but i am not them, i will never be them, for i am me, who else am i supposed to be? so i sit on this floor, lost between the memories of something i will never see, wishing for something i will never be. to live so passionately only to die so peacefully. people say a legacy is to plant the seeds to a garden you will never get to see, is this is what is left of my legacy? listening to the distant whispers of the ones that can before, only to be who i am supposed to be, sat on this floor, dreaming of something more.

- r. g.