elliessoupersillyness

[elliessoupersillyness]

Girl...

“Girl, the toast.” I turn around and see the toast burning.

“Girl, thank you.” I say, smiling and pulling it out of the toaster.

“Girl, no problem.” I put it on her plate, glad things are still going smoothly. Ever since our first meeting last night at the club, we’ve been basically tied at the hip. She takes a bite of the toast, the crunch so loud I thought it was her bleached blonde hair.

“Girl, gluten-free?” She asks suddenly, her tone completely different. I shake my head, focusing on the eggs in the hot pan, because I’m hungry and hungover as hell. And also because oil hurts when it’s hot.

But I decide to look over my shoulder when I hear weird noises that remind me vaguely of my grandma’s old cat. And I see my new roommate on the floor, shaking and everything, but not at all like how she was shaking dat ass last night, so I get really worried.

“Girl, help me.” She manages to say, but I’m torn between going to her and my eggs in the pan, because they’re not quite done, and I don’t mind runny eggs, but I’m hungover as hell and I’d really just prefer my eggs the way I really want them.

“Girl, the tariffs…” I turn to her, trying to make it clear that no, I do not think her life is necessarily worth less my eggs, but again, I’m hungover as hell. And, seriously, eggs are crazy expensive right now!

My girl on the floor doesn’t really say much after that, and since my eggs are done, I turn around to help her. Except…

She’s gone completely grey! Which is not her shade, because of the blonde hair I mentioned before, so I rush over, thinking of different ways to gently tell her that maybe she should go for a darker colour that might look suspiciously similar to brown. It’s okay, the world is different now! It’s okay to be a brunette!

“Girl, the hair…” I mutter, trying to shake her awake. But she’s laying there, her mouth wide open, something I sympathise with, as a fellow mouth-breather. I shake her a little harder, and this time her eyes open. But she doesn’t wake up.

“Girl, wake up.” I say, trying to think of what to do when you have a roommate with split ends, straw hair AND an unflattering complexion. I start to get a little freaked out by how cold her hands are, but more importantly, how messed up her cuticles are! God, why did I let this girl become my new roommate? I must’ve been trashed.

“Hey, Lex, I’m just here for my…” My old roommate, Sandy, walks in, probably letting herself in. I remind myself to ask for those keys back.

“Is that… IS THAT A DEAD BODY? HOLYYYYY SHIT… LEX? WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? I LEAVE FOR WHAT, A NIGHT? AND I COME BACK TO THIS?” I turn to her, frowning, which I never do because my biggest fear ever since I was 7 years old is crows’ feet.

“Girl, new roommate.”

“SHE’S DEAD, LEX. DID YOU CALL AN AMBULANCE YET? OR- OR, UM, THE POLICE?” She pauses, running her hands through her hair. “Holy shit…”

Wait… she’s dead? Looking back, I guess that made sense. Crap. Now I have to find a new roommate. Even worse, I’ll have to pay for the funeral, because she put me in her will last night.

“Girl, the costs…” I sadly mutter, holding her cold hands close to my chest.

“Lex, what are you doing? Put her hands down, oh my God.” I refuse, inspecting my old OLD roommate’s cuticles again. Might as well do that dead people makeover myself. For free.

“Get- Get AWAY from the dead body, what the fuck.” Sandy drags me away from the cuticles and starts pacing relentlessly. Something she only started after she moved in with me, she says. Sure, Sandy. After about 10 seconds of this, she stops, standing completely still, tearing her hair out. I resist the urge to tell her to stop, because that’s got to be really bad for your follicles. She hates it when I say anything about her appearance.

But it’s really not my fault, when she uses that grocery store box dye to dye it black AND she refuses to stop squinting.

“Lex. How?” She finally addresses me.

I point at the uneaten, now cold, toast on the single plate on the counter.

“Girl, the toast.”

[elliessoupersillyness]

poem #179 - the act of praying: "bow your head and kneel before me"

my devotee, i caress, with gentle prowess, as their veins run with blood and i feel it beneath my fingertips. a limitation, an insult, to my inner being. i take their chin, and lift it up, running fingers through hair, nails breaking skin and feel the truth, in their worship. their mind lost, but not their heart, my acolyte, gazes up at me, smile soft and honest, framed by these fingers i am supposed to call mine, once awkward and useless. until she came and found me, and suddenly, every organ became vital, every heartbeat a relief, every touch was a delicacy, and every word a belief to her. my heart beats and beats and beats, endlessly enduring, so i think of her, whose very presence has started to consume my thoughts. a place that used to be mine only, and yet. im willing to share, if it means i too, can one day show her the truth in my divinity.

[elliessoupersillyness]

i cant take it anymore i cant do maths anymore

[elliessoupersillyness]

i really love the oh hellos and it always makes me kind of sad to see soldier poet king made into trendy quizes and stuff about who's a soldier who's a king or whatever. because it's a really deep song and an important part of the concept album it's a part of, but it gets simplified and taken out of its original context. the soldier, the poet and the king are not separate, they are the same character, the protagonist of the album whose conflict involves struggling to escape from an abusive relationship. soldier poet king is about the protagonist overcoming their abuse, using the second coming of jesus as a metaphor for the return and self-realisation of the protagonist. it is a triumph of the protagonist depicted through biblical symbolism. the soldier, the poet and the king all refer to jesus, and also to the protagonist.

like this song is so deep and meaningful!!! i strongly encourage people who like soldier poet king to listen to the full dear wormwood album and get the context of the rest of the story; soldier poet king is a midpoint in the narrative. and it is a complex and absolutely beautiful narrative.