blackpenwritings

[blackpenwritings]

Subsistence is curse for weeds thriving in extreme harsh cold, numb weather grief bursting at the seams;

lillies move towards the sun- away from semblance of agony leaves fall, souls untethered crushed by sheets of teeth;

plush undergrowth filled with splatter poison climbing up trees till all is coarse scatter lined with grease.

-Tamarind Fall

[blackpenwritings]

A deep disquiet consumes me so vast, like unarriving autumn trees tremor with unfilled promise yet summer burns them dry;

a barrenness unnoticed empty space between stretching, hollow-like void untouched by trace of green;

filled with rage and bitter anguish for a rain seldom seen soils weep for wish of rapture silver fog rolling in;

I see nothing no more wool of despair pulled over my eyes for the sake of existence, I exist breathing flame into strife;

the river moved into another body poured itself out of my hands hiding, preserving from agony before disquiet turns to sand.

- Tamarind Fall; disquietude.

[blackpenwritings]

Revelation of my identity feels often as a witch-hunt feels often as cemetery, riddled with the dead;

stakes cropping from the ground mistakes abound afire revelations, buried tombstones wilted heart, pyre;

acorns fall to the ground urging, begging, to grow no waters reach these lands no promise left to glow;

they seek and I am found, although, never truly too dead for resurrection too dead to ever breathe.

- Tamarind Fall; long past buried self.

[blackpenwritings]

Feeling out of place even though you're surrounded by good people...please, i love your writing it's so beautiful ❤️

There is a gnawing in my chest that I can't quite place. It eats its way into my heart, hollows me from within, whispers to me in a tone that renders me raw and open, like a wirebrush against scarred skin. I wonder if everyone else feels this way, drawing bridges to human connection through shallow cordialities, coating themselves with a layer of fresh paint each time they have to step out of the structure of their own selves to reach and adapt to someone else's. I wonder how long it took them to perfect their smiles, their gestures, movements, speech, even empathy. A voice snaps me back to reality, "Hey, is everything okay?", and my eyes reacquaint themselves to the people around me, laughing, teasing, catching each other up on their own lives, filled glasses in their hands or on the table, sparkle in their eyes. I smile, "Yep, all good.", and I watch them all, comfortable in their own skin, as I squirm uneasily in my own, my body longing to be elsewhere. I wish I could settle back in, savour the company of those who love me, feel like I belong. But this discomfort overwhelms me. Knowing I can't be as grateful as they deserve, weighs me down. And I fear I'll be forever reaching for something to fill the void, falling short of anything that feels real.

-Tamarind Fall.

[blackpenwritings]

A world of rampage, an orchestra of chaos.

We live somewhere little voices are buried deep within the earth to mute visions of freedom.

We live somewhere bigotry oppresses unrestricted expression, hatred burns at the bottom of our throats, a yearning to be heard settles deep within our gut, like a little cinder box, struggling to be broken open.

How strange it must be to think that the world we created is the one we're afraid of, where our own ancestors fought for decades to be listened to, only for the next generations to have to watch every word they speak.

How ironic it must be to think, that a promise of Independence turned into a graveyard for perspectives, a whispered murmur of liberation trying to crawl out from beneath headstones commemorating the courage of individual thought.

Normality is an illusion we're taught with an iron rod, a compulsion to adhere to.

Normality is the conformity shoved down our throats until we can't recognize who we are.

Normality is the creation of herds of sheep, their brains torn out to hardwire that being different is wrong, that poison is the only cure to wanting to be who we are.

Until the world of rampage orchestrates a symphony of repression, until compassion becomes a liability, and we're doomed to follow till death engulfs us all.

-Tamarind Fall; Insurgence.

A little late but this blog is pro-BLM.

[blackpenwritings]

Sometimes, injuries can be so liberating.

The bruises on my knees remind me of how human I am. How human I've always been. How human I'm allowed to be.

It's the first actual injury I've had in years that exists out of pure foolishness rather than mistakes with repercussions to them. It's the first injury I've had that reminded me I'd forgotten how it felt to hurt somewhere that is human rather than somewhere that makes me a woman.

My hands are dusty and my knees hurt, and I've finally been allowed to exist as I am. As a child. As someone who doesn't have to stop to sound out every single thing I want to say. As someone who can just exist. Without the fear of being too mature or not mature enough. Without the fear of being unsafe or unheard.

It feels so liberating to just exist. To just hurt. To be allowed to forget and remake everything weighing me down.

I never thought I'd know how it felt to want to exist again. But I have a little hope now. A little blood, a little more freedom. And it feels so strange to fit into myself for once. It feels so strange to savour it. It feels so strange to be flawed, and strange to still be accepted. I want to be this more. I want to drown in sunrises and fall off rooftops more. I want to escape my head and exist within the sanctity of the wind more. Is that so much to ask for?

-Tamarind Fall; Liberation.

[blackpenwritings]

Incense burns with a sharp glow, a fire trapped within the walls of its char, an awakening working its way down to what holds it in place, distilling grey ash into the curves of its boundaries.

It's strange. We can build shapes out of anything. Your hands taking shape into new autumn leaves, mine still struggling to shed the summers.

I am trying to make sense in ellipses of metaphors, you are draped in soft shadows of meteorites, kissing the hyperbole hung around your neck, praying for the variables to put you amongst the stars.

We're both trying to make sense of things that never belonged here,

We're both trying to build homes in places that do not belong to us

As we lay claim to cities, scribbling tactics on papyrus under fading light, the skies grew heavy with the sudden need to escape.

So we learn to adapt. We adapt to the burning and the freezing of far off moons and decaying graveyards

We adapt until we burn with a glow so sharp, they can see us miles across space.

When the seasons don't arrive, our bodies will shape placid winters.

When the seasons don't arrive, we will scavenge craters out of light and shape spring into existence.

The light will always be there,

unwinding itself out of barren planets and rocket fuel, trampled wildflowers and particle accelerators, just until it fills up the void and tears our footprints asunder.

Just until it lays claim to everything that it was robbed of.

-Tamarind Fall; Parabolas and meteorites.

[blackpenwritings]

We were built as shadows, brick by brick, with the light winding itself inside out of our chests until colour glowed into skin.

The fire shed itself, starving white light into hues, creating fingernails and nuances out of the absence of warmth.

It's probably true, maybe we were built in horizons, every city was an ode to the peace it could never revel in.

The light created us, and we moulded fractals out of it, storing its possibilities in glass lamps and burnt musings.

We crushed the embers until it dripped ink, we learned how to make it grow and it devoured everything.

Fire is just the sun unwinding itself out of wood, and we trapped it within our hands, pulling every inch of its life to harness our own languages.

We were built like shadows, and it breathed life into us. We were built into the light, and we taught it destruction.

-Tamarind Fall.

Based on the quote, 'Fire is just the sun unwinding itself from wood'.

[blackpenwritings]

I am the brandish of your tongue

The searing metal into the curve of my spine

The words you carved burnt into the underside of my eyelids

I weigh your guilt in my shoulders

I weigh your sorrow in the space between the hours

I'm left to rot in the diminuendo of night

The scars set deep into me, the crescendos falling over me like water, soothing the rising edges of my skin.

What am I to you but a memory,

a lesson that muted wounds can sing,

a symphony that blinds you until you can't speak,

a decadence so sweet, you can't hear anything for a week.

What am I to you but a burnt musing,

A stroke in rage slashed across the canvas,

A volatile hollowness piercing through your hands,

A silence so loud, that colours haunt your sleep.

I am the brandish of your tongue

metal seeped into every crevice of my skin

A testimony to pain that fire can't destroy

A witness to the breathlessness that will tear you from within.

-Tamarind Fall; An abuse survivor.

[blackpenwritings]

frost came with brittle hands, half-moons of coal under her fingernails.

her claws dug into the hearth, the crackle of embers silenced by cold grief

she doesn't care about the electricity,

she doesn't care about the thunder

when she arrived, her touch sprawled into cobwebs cutting through the glass

every splinter of warmth cried out, teeth clawed into our chests before being ripped out by numbed apathy

Where were you when our promises thawed?

Where were you when frost found her way into the muted ache of my bones?

Where were you when the icicles turned into a knife, when the light bled through my spine, when I was too blinded to see the crimson soaked into the floorboards?

Frost is here, and she is woven into my skull.

Frost is here, and her staccato darkness is where I bury our wounds.

Frost is here, and she envelopes me in a bitter embrace until I can't taste your name.

-Tamarind Fall

@blackpenwritings

have i told you about the darkness of the day when the rains come down, and won’t come away?

have I told you about the cold that drives a knife into my spine?

have i told you about water that goes down my throat, and the way it whines?

it craves for the touch of jesus, it craves for transformation and salvation because there is all to damn and none at all.

it’s not about warmth anymore not at all

it’s not about hearth anymore not at all

it’s about being able to stand in a place where your bag has a seat of honour on every square inch of floor, where the water seeping through is a fault of your own and you hate yourself for it.

It’s about closing the windows, the windows that let in air in the summer and gales in the monsoon and now there’s a bit of regret because frost, she’s here.

frost is here

and she doesn’t care about heat, heat between my legs, heat on your fingers, cream of my crop.

she doesn’t care about the sweat that slid down my back as you pinned me against a wall.

she doesn’t care about the starburst you ate off my tongue.

frost is here, and she is here.

frost is here, and she doesn’t care about the muted days.

frost is here and she doesn’t care about my vintage umbrella and your thin-lipped smile.

she doesn’t care about our clothes touching, our hearts soaring as we fumbled our way into each other.

she doesn’t care about how we held hands for the first time and it was definitely an independence.

frost is here, and she doesn’t care.

frost is here, and she’s calmed us down.

frost is here, and she’s killed the fear.

she killed our longing as we chose to wear our own sweaters.

she killed our loving by planting a latticework of envy and mendacity.

she killed our warmth by painting it black in this weather.

she killed our friendship by still making me want us to be together.

frost is here, and she doesn’t care.

frost is here, and she isn’t going anywhere.

-@fowlrealist

[blackpenwritings]

The music was already here. We brought the alphabets and decorated the universe. Placing trebles along the orbits of binary star systems, cascading crescendos around the electromagnetic fields of black holes, embellishing space on pieces of parchment, imitating the spin of time with taut strings on wood curled tight with metal knobs.

The music was already here. But then we broke it down. Twisted it into sentences and decimals. The parts we borrowed bled into paper and chemicals until they hollowed themselves and settled into the soil.

The music was already here.

The crescendos rose until the darkness got deafening, the light bleeding from its edges until it spilled into the atmosphere, piercing the clouds, spinning itself into tornadoes, creating breath, growing louder and louder until oh! The sunrise today was resounding, blanketing the horizon until the clamour brought civilisations in its wake. The rise and fall of neutron stars and supernovae turned into sheets of colour across the stars, and we were standing on the soil that borrowed symphonies from their spectrums, an unpaid debt that lasted for millennia.

How strange it is to stand where we are and wonder about the spaces between the stars, while indoctrinating illusions of hierarchy and hate.

How strange it is to believe we created the music the galaxies have roared with for billions of centuries.

How strange it is to borrow fragments of pulsars and weld them into weapons.

How strange it must be to survive, to trap the music in our chests and to capture the light.

-Tamarind Fall; The music of the spheres.

[blackpenwritings]

What made you make this blog ? And such a young age I’m very curious. It’s very kindhearted of you.

Severe depression, I think. I'd sit on the last bench and tune everyone out at school, constantly writing morbid poetry because the paper was the only thing that didn't judge me. Tumblr is the one place I could maintain my anonymity and I trusted it with my writing. Since I first started this blog, a lot of things have happened in my life and I've been in constant transition, trying to learn how to cope with situations. It's been difficult. I realised that the way this blog is my safe space, it could be a safe space for everyone else who's going through their own issues as well. Coincidentally, a lot of the asks I get are very similar to my current situations, so I end up giving advice to other people and that helps me figure my own issues out. So, yeah, I don't think it's really that kindhearted of me. I'm just going along with whatever is being thrown at me at this point and I can only hope that the situations in other people's lives don't worsen like mine always have, and that my advice actually helps them through it, at least for a while.

[blackpenwritings]

Asks.

Guys, some of y'all are going through some very real problems and it worries me that you send me asks about it instead of messaging me because I end up responding to those within two days, by which time your problems are very likely to have escalated. Please MESSAGE ME if you have problems you need help with. Moreover, with asks, I don't even have enough information to give you appropriate advice and it really fucks me up when I think about how much it can worsen your situation.

If the issue is anonymity, I //promise// that I will not be sharing your urls or issues with anyone else. I'm a very random person on the internet and there is no way I would have the power to ridicule you over issues you might have come to me with.

[blackpenwritings]

I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do. I know I have anxiety and I get anxiety attacks frequently now, but what do I do? If I tell my parents they’re going to get mad at me and demand why I have it, but I don’t want to make them even more mad because it’s them that’s making me have those attacks. If I tell my brother, all he’s going to do is tell my parents. And I don’t trust my friends enough to tell them.

Oh my god I've been facing this situation as well. See, the thing is, being around your parents or even talking to them makes you incredibly anxious because they've put you through trauma before and your brain is in constant panic mode. With your brother as well, really. Neither of you put in the efforts or built a bond where you could at least be each other's safe spaces when you're dealing with the rest of your family. Once you identify these problems, it should help immensely because now you'd actually know what part of it is making you anxious. I spent years trying to get out of the house by either moving out or finding safe spaces in different cafes and with different people and it never worked out for me. If you can find a library where you can be alone and you can calm your anxiety, it may temporarily help. Otherwise, what really helped me was the hope that I could move out of the house if it gets too much for me to handle. Also, my sister started being nicer to me and bonding with me and I found /some/ safety in my own room. There's this book I have, and it's called 'Complex ptsd: From surviving to thriving'. I'd really suggest you to read it. For emotional flashbacks, I have a set of steps from the book which might help.

[blackpenwritings]

It’s early days between me and this girl so she hasn’t met my best mate but I’ve invited her round, like I act the same around my ex( best mate) as I do around all my other mates. I’d never cross any boundaries with my best mate and I’m serious about this girl, I just don’t know how to make her see it:/

I actually talked to my friend about this and she said that it's actually quite problematic that you're staying with an ex. I mean, there may be certain situations wherein people /just/ stay friends with their ex but in most situations, it's really not like that. Even if you act the same around your best mate as you do with your other mates, it's still an incredibly uncomfortable situation for the girl you want to get serious with. If she was open to situations like this, this problem wouldn't arise in the first place but it's quite evident that it makes her very uneasy and the only way you can actually show her that you're serious is by making a tough decision. There are a lot of ways this can go but not a lot of ways that will let you hold on to both of them like you are right now.

[blackpenwritings]

So I’ve been talking to this girl, and I really like her! Like I can actually imagine us getting into a relationship which is the first time I’ve liked someone this much in over 2 years. Next week I move in with my best mate who also happens to be my ex and this girl called things off between me and her because I’m moving in with my ex. Like I have no interest in my best mate in that way at all. How do I get this girl back?

If she's that skeptical about you moving in with your ex, she may not be wrong. If she's seen you with your best mate and she doesn't feel secure in her relationship with you, there's a very high possibility that even if you get her back, she won't stop feeling insecure and it'll make her unstable. Either you sit down with her and have a proper conversation about this, in which you tell her that you understand her insecurities and will be willing to work on them with her, or you do the conventional thing and choose between the two of them. Honestly, if this girl likes you enough to stay with you, she will have that conversation with you. If she doesn't like you enough and is having second thoughts about the relationship in the first place, this just gives her more of a reason to call it off. Also, if you somehow manage to restore the relationship while also moving in with your best mate, please maintain some boundaries with your best mate. You don't want to promise that girl that she has nothing to be insecure about and then end up doing something you regret.

[blackpenwritings]

What are you supposed to do when your in a serious relationship with somebody but you still have feelings or possibly love for someone else you used to be with and is it bad to feel happiness when talking to the someone else who isn’t your S/O ?? I can’t help but thinking of him when I know I shouldn’t I feel really bad but I can’t trust myself to make the right decision and I know that the grass isn’t greener on the other side

If you're in a serious relationship but you really enjoy talking to this other person, it's quite possible that you don't feel that happy in your relationship. There are communication barriers and you haven't been able to express yourself with your S/O. If you really want this relationship to work and you know that the grass isn't greener on the other side, I'd suggest you to identify the problems you've been having and work on spending more quality time together. If you still can't help thinking about the other person, you should break up. Maybe take some space. Figure out what the other person is offering that your s/o isn't able to. Maybe it's not even your s/o's fault. Maybe you're afraid of committing to them? Please don't spend the rest of your life with an s/o you don't feel entirely happy with, and don't lead them on because you're unsure of your feelings. Neither of you deserve that.