addrivat - Tumblr blog

[addrivat]

I’ve only almost got my word count for yesterday ugh.

I’m at 8200 ish words, going to try to make it to 9500 and then make up the rest of it tomorrow.

[addrivat]

LYRICS TO A LOVE SONG It's been so long since I last loved That I had trouble finding words to describe the feeling It's been so long since I thought I was in love That I've begun to doubt if I ever really did But it didn't take time at all to doubt what I could write Because no matter how hard I tried to type I couldn't write what had burned so brightly in my chest Because if I wrote it down, I'd feel like I was ripping out the rest Using my blood to paint because pencils were not working and paintbrushes were not working and all I had left as a tool was my body But it's a good body, despite all the aches and flaws I'm going to use my body to paint a picture And it won't be pretty And it won't be graceful But goddamn, it is my body Goddamn, it is my story So God DAMN! I'm going to tell it!

Noah Westlake; April 15, 2015

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HARBOR HEARTS It's been two years, which seems unreal It feels like I've been traveling, I'm miles from where I started but still have quite a ways to go I'm lost in a wanderlust, craving an actual destination but I'm still stuck in liminal space But wherever I am, I'm not with you And that used to be a problem, because I couldn't forget your face I couldn't forget your smile Or the color of your eyes Or the sound of your voice But now, I just can't seem to remember no matter how hard I try. I can imagine, and I think I'm imagining right, but I used to know with such certainty It feels like it should feel odd, wrong, but the only thing I feel is comfort We've both moved on. I still love you. I still hold you in my heart, Harbor a little piece of you, like you probably harbor a piece of me I still think of you and your seafoam smiles when I walk along the sandy shores and get warm down to my core But I'm not in love We're not in love I like you, but I am not in love with you any more

Noah Westlake; April 14, 2015

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PICKING BONES OR BRAINS There's a decomposing body still attached to the bone you're trying to pick with me, We killed it so long ago but your icy reserve has preserved it, Did preserve it, until the anger heated everything up and the body thawed And the love I once held for you rotted away with the flesh of the carcass And the love I once held for you fed the hungry beast that was laying by your side And the love I once held for you fasted you over for many a winter And the love I once held for you is gone We could have saved it, we could have nursed it back to health But God! were you intent on putting it out of it's misery Even though I pleaded, Even though I cried, Even though I should have given up long ago, Like when you first started telling lies. Oh and God was it embarrassing! To beg and borrow love from strangers like it was food and I was starving! I am starving for the love you never gave me! I'm so embarrassed to act like a fool, Because of you So I've hidden you in my closet like I hid the body, Way in the back where not even my friends would find you, Because what would they say when they saw you still covered in blood? You never cleaned up! You killed something and you never cleaned up You only covered up, but you covered up so poorly that I can see the stains The blood on your hands, on your chest Like a poorly kept secret, because it is a poorly kept secret. But you could sell water to a fish, and the people that are harboring you Believe you when you say that it is mud, that you're just willing to get your hands dirty But they don't know the half of just how dirty you're willing to play And play dirty is what you did So I got rid of you, like I did the body. The decomposing carcass remains, but we don't have to flesh it out again. Because I've got a bone to pick with you, and this skeleton in my closet will do just fine.

Noah Westlake; April 14, 2015. 

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Seafoam smiles

Past the snack shack and parked cars yards and yards of volleyball nets I can remember where they are The sandy shores and crashing waves Still remind me of your smiles How I walked along those sea foamed curves Filming it for miles You had never seen the ocean so I thought I’d see it to, It’s in the past, it’s been a year But those sandy shores and crashing waves Still remind me of you

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BED TIME I remember what it was like Staying up until 5 in the morning for the first time On purpose, anyways It was my first adult accomplishment Because adults stayed up as long as they want I was a kid and I bounced back, I was energetic I wasn't tired at all, but that was when I was young They don't tell you that part of growing up Is understanding that while, yes, you could While you could stay up until you had blood shot eyes While you could stay up until morning felt like night And your pillow called your name Part of growing up is knowing that You could, but you shouldn't Because come morning you have to be up and ready You have interact with a world that thrives in the light A world that calms in the night Growing up is not having a bed time Growing up is going to bed

BED TIME, by Noah Westlake

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I don't wait until after a storm I rage on through it I embrace the rain on my face I feel power run through me Like the wind through my hair I am alive in a storm In ways I am not normally I feel in a storm more than just pain and numbness I become the storm and for a while I feel.. I feel strong In the after storm I wind down from the high I smell the rain on dry Earth, Scents of pines and evergreens And the salt on my skin washing away The skies are grey but I am not I am as vibrant in my colors as I ever was

Petrichor, by Noah Westlake

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The cookie tins your your mother kept That never hold anything but sewing pins and needles If they hold cookies, they are much too stale to eat A cereal box without a prize It never said anything about a prize But you still checked But you still eat those cookies When you find them Because it's rare you do And you still find something to like about the cereal the little marshmallow you eat one by one Before you eat the rest Because in those little let downs You have to find the victories I found the cookie tin and for once I got some damn cookies, I got the marshmallows and I picked them out Somebody might yell about the missing marshmallows Somebody else might leave the stale cookies be But you found your little victory You found your victory

LITTLE VICTORIES, by Noah Westlake

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Lots of kids of single mothers Grow up without a father It seems strange to reiterate their absence But many do not realize that Split does not mean alone And together does not mean present

HOME ALONE, by Noah Westlake

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Someday in Summer I urge you to go outside after dark Lay in the dampening grass, the morning dew comes early Look up into the night sky and count the stars Like you counted baby teeth and birthdays Go to a park and swing, to the beach and swim Make some memories In a week, a month, a year, a life time later These moments are the ones that you remember and the ones you live for Moments of silence Moments of peace Ageless and precious Unspoilt and undoubtedly Yours

BABY TEETH AND BIRTHDAYS by Noah Westlake

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I never claim to understand Parents who say in exasperation that their kid Can't throw a ball Can't catch a ball Are too lazy to come outside and play When the parents never ask them to When the parents never teach them to When the kids would like to but never get the chance Because the parents are too busy Or Because the parents are too tired Or Because the parents are just like them Can't throw a ball Can't catch a ball Are too lazy to come outside and play

THREE STRIKES, YOU'RE OUT! by Noah Westlake

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They ask you how you are over dinner Like they don't already know They ask to rub it in, to put you in your place You answer like you're chewing broken glass Too stubborn to show the blood so you purse your lips And grit your teeth, mumbling a "fine" Just like they all expect to hear You want to spit it all out, along with a "fuck you" To make sure they know what they've put you through But you grit your teeth and purse your lips Like you're chewing broken glass

BROKEN PLATES FOR DINNER by Noah Westlake

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Like a boxer or ballerina, I wrap myself tightly in a cloth not quite comfortable To protect myself, to keep from snapping under the weight of my own body To keep from protruding in far too feminine ways To hide a body I call my own My body, my body It sounds so foreign to say When I package it up and hide it away Every Single Day My body must adhere to impossible standards for these far too wide hips, My broad but seemingly narrow shoulders slump forward to hide me It's not a burden, just routine Until the day when the veil on my cage falls swiftly, exposing the light again I'll let the warmth of my sun fill my heart I'll soak in the sun and expose my war wounds But until that day, I protect myself Hide my body until I home again Where I shed my clothes and stand tall My far too wide hips and broad but seemingly narrow shoulders exposed to the air within my four walls I am not ashamed, this body is mine but it is not yet right The juncture of my neck and my shoulders that is mine Arms that wrap around me, yearning to wrap around someone else, to unwrap from my body The curve from knee to calve is mine The abysmal dip from spine to cheek And the shallow, from cheek to thigh Mine, mine, mine My hips protrude but much less so than further up or just below My stomach is canyon to my cage which rises and falls as a lay sleeping Mine, mine, mine But at my hips is something else, just between An echo of who I used to be haunting me again I drown it out, I celebrate the me that is me The me who has taken me miles along the beach The me who has written more words than I have spoken The me who has lifted books, and boxes, and pets, and little kids The me that I can celebrate with open arms and bare skin The parts of me that I have liberated The parts of me that I have imprisoned beneath layers of cotton tees and rolled up socks I am not ashamed of me, but there are parts of me that are not mine They are foreign and they keep me company I love them anywhere else but they are too near Suffocating me like I'm wrapping up my lungs in the cotton tees Destroying parts of me which are not mine I want to love them I want to celebrate them But they are not mine They are not me They are someone else and that's all they will ever be And when my bed feels empty, uncompressed and much too cold I bury myself in pillows and pretend that they are me because they are like I should be Soft but firm and flat where they should be And I am someone else Because I know who I am but my body does not I pretend I am someone else, to make the unfamiliarity okay I pretend I am anyone else because At the end of the day When I am someone else My body is a present, just for me to unwrap

WRAPPED UP LIKE A PRESENT by Noah Westlake