jamesissadagain

[jamesissadagain]

My mother looked at me and yelled,

“You will only learn when you are finally with a man who won’t love you the same.”

But here I am, thinking you will be a great dad.

[jamesissadagain]

My mother looked at me and yelled,

“You will only learn when you are finally with a man who won’t love you the same.”

But here I am, thinking you will be a great dad.

[jamesissadagain]

AYOOO UR NOT SUPPOSED TO CRYYY DUMBAASSS, I know all of that, u won't leave u know too much also also UMMMA UMMA I was js sad when I wrote it like a week ago, and no, these r js random tangents that I write.

Ummma UMMA glad to be back on tumblr hq as welll!!

What is this iridescent future that I'm waiting for?

You're going to have to leave me behind anyway.

Custom and culture cannot correlate,

For you and I come from places never named.

When will my mother stop choking on her own demise?

When will my father smile?

When will my brother find his light?

Will I have to dig the hole to a smaller size?

I exist as meat, I exist as an emotion,

And at times I wish I didn't exist at all.

Pornographic, the way I open my mouth.

I take it in, I spit it out.

Offspring, little tadpoles,

They stick to the walls.

I wish I were barren,

I hope the news breaks itself to a fault.

You're going to leave me anyway.

Will your mother accept me for my ways?

Will your father call me in a haze?

Your brother and your sisters are in dismay.

Will your children love me the same?

I hate being back home.

I hate being back home.

[jamesissadagain]

What is this iridescent future that I'm waiting for?

You're going to have to leave me behind anyway.

Custom and culture cannot correlate,

For you and I come from places never named.

When will my mother stop choking on her own demise?

When will my father smile?

When will my brother find his light?

Will I have to dig a hole of a smaller size?

I exist as meat, I exist as an emotion,

And at times I wish I didn't exist at all.

Pornographic, the way I open my mouth.

I take it in, I spit it out.

Offspring, little tadpoles,

They stick to the walls.

I wish I were barren,

I hope the news breaks itself to a fault.

You're going to leave me anyway.

Will your mother accept me for my ways?

Will your father call me in a haze?

Your brother and your sisters are in dismay.

Will your children love me the same?

I hate being back home.

I hate being back home.

[jamesissadagain]

I drink everyday

Some good nescafe

Like coffee like cream

I wanna bathe in potato

Tumour tumour

This is my humour

If u don't sue her

I will chew her

Bow

Bow

[jamesissadagain]

I drink everyday

Some good nescafe

Like coffee like cream

I wanna bathe in potato

Tumour tumour

This is my humour

If u don't sue her

I will chew her

Bow

Bow

[jamesissadagain]

AGAIN, U R WAAAY TOO SWEET JESUS, YOU WRITE ME SO SOFTLY, ICB THAT YOU THINK OF ME LIKE THAT GAHHHH

i dont currently live in the house i was born in.

nor in the city whose winds

were the first to learn the shape of my name.

i have left behind so many streets,

so many stones,

and big, dust collecting clocks.

i now reside elsewhere—

right here infact,

in between all your little laughters

and all your big cackles.

the ones you let slip,

when you think no one is listening.

curled up into the corners of your arms,

as they cover me like a gentle roof.

and your touch, now my winter shield.

and your absence—

the only exile ill ever have to know.

these days, when someone asks for my address,

all i write down is:

under the almond tree of her gaze.

here, in this little shade of her warmth.

between shoulder kisses

and snoopy sketches.

and right beside that pile of songs

who only sing of you.

so, if i ever do go missing,

into the folds of this wicked world.

dont ring, or be alarmed.

just whisper my name,

back into the new winds,

and ill get back safely.

like memory.

like muscle.

[jamesissadagain]

MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL MANN- HOW DO YOU WRITE SOO POETICALLY, ANY TIME U PEN A LIKE ITS THE PRETTIEST THING EVER, I USUALLY COME HERE EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE TO CHECK IF U POSTED SOMETHING NEW, GAHH I LOVE YOU, I LOVE THIS

i dont currently live in the house i was born in.

nor in the city whose winds

were the first to learn the shape of my name.

i have left behind so many streets,

so many stones,

and big, dust collecting clocks.

i now reside elsewhere—

right here infact,

in between all your little laughters

and all your big cackles.

the ones you let slip,

when you think no one is listening.

curled up into the corners of your arms,

as they cover me like a gentle roof.

and your touch, now my winter shield.

and your absence—

the only exile ill ever have to know.

these days, when someone asks for my address,

all i write down is:

under the almond tree of her gaze.

here, in this little shade of her warmth.

between shoulder kisses

and snoopy sketches.

and right beside that pile of songs

who only sing of you.

so, if i ever do go missing,

into the folds of this wicked world.

dont ring, or be alarmed.

just whisper my name,

back into the new winds,

and ill get back safely.

like memory.

like muscle.

[jamesissadagain]

How r you so good at writing like gaaaaaahhhhhh

before memory, there was only the burning.

two atoms, close as twins, stitched together

in the gut of a dying star.

held by the heat, held by the weight.

then the collapse—

longing birthed out of the great rupture.

eons then spent, lost in the vacancy of space.

caught between the throats of comets,

or slipped beneath the marrow of a withering planet.

scattered, shattered—

but never lost altogether.

billions pass—

for destiny to finally grow nostalgic,

for dust to finally learn to be bodies,

for the twin atoms to finally find each other again.

down here on this pale blue dot, this tiny reminder of life—

where you are standing in the living room, painting and humming,

and i am watching the evening starlight climb in through, to kiss your wrists.

after all that time in the dark—

what a mercy it is,

to collide again.

[jamesissadagain]

before memory, there was only the burning.

two atoms, close as twins, stitched together

in the gut of a dying star.

held by the heat, held by the weight.

then the collapse—

longing birthed out of the great rupture.

eons then spent, lost in the vacancy of space.

caught between the throats of comets,

or slipped beneath the marrow of a withering planet.

scattered, shattered—

but never lost altogether.

billions pass—

for destiny to finally grow nostalgic,

for dust to finally learn to be bodies,

for the twin atoms to finally find each other again.

down here on this pale blue dot, this tiny reminder of life—

where you are standing in the living room, painting and humming,

and i am watching the evening starlight climb in through, to kiss your wrists.

after all that time in the dark—

what a mercy it is,

to collide again.

[jamesissadagain]

sunflowers bloom on my pillow

whenever I dream of you.

their golden heads craning towards a sun i cannot see—

or perhaps, it's toward the warmth of your name

that i keep murmuring even in sleep.

i do not know what it all means.

only that I wake with my palms coated in yellow,

as if someone did not want to let go.

gold dust smudged near my lips,

as if your fingers traced my silence.

and petals curling around my ribs,

as if our memories refuse to be detained in my chest.

i tell myself it is all you.

your voice breaking into color,

your love spilling out in fervor—

like roots that do not ask permission to grow.

or maybe, my pillow is just not a pillow at all,

rather, it's soil rich with longing—

a land where absence has turned luminous.

but i do not think about it all too hard anymore.

i simply turn my face to the flowers,

let their stems caress against my cheek,

and whisper, hoping the roots are listening:

i love you. i love you. i am glad you exist.

[jamesissadagain]

I LOVE I LOVE U I LOVE YOU

Fuck I want u js as much too man, my beautiful loveee (this is so well written(like always, DuH-) AND GOSHHHH DARN IT- UR RLLY GOOD AT THIS DARLINGG-😭😭😭

Imprint yourself upon me.

So deeply that even when the earth reclaims her son,

even when loam covers my fingers and the worms begin threading through my toes,

you are remembered.

Let the archaeologists come, with all their curiosity and tools to sift through my bones.

There —beneath the wreckage of time— they will find your warmth,

still burning in the marrow.

Let them press onto my shell,

and feel the aftershock—

the tremor of your hands still holding on.

Let my ribs arch out like olive branches,

their twisted wood still singing your song;

and each of my vertebrae still bearing the shadow of your lips.

Prints that even time,

with all its great erasers—

its winds and waters and centuries—

couldn’t quite ever undo.

Let them find me,

only to learn about you.

[jamesissadagain]

OML STHAP STHAP STHAP

But what about the songs that you like?

The movies that you adore?

Do they mean nothing compared to all the ratings and brilliant scores?

Wiped away like dust on an old windowpane,

you feel like you obstruct the view of the yellow sun.

Yet the light still peeks through the particles clinging to marbled plates.

And you cry—trying to bite down on the spit collected in your mouth,

nails digging deeper and deeper into the concrete,

feeling sadder than the moon, drowning in your own gloom.

The white stripes on your shame burn with the intention to hurt,

and you clutch harder onto the only strings you know how to play,

paying the cost of wanting to be part of something bigger.

Why don’t you see value in the things that loved you regardless?

You love trashy pop. You love princess movies.

You love sewing booty shorts and mini skirts.

You love making music, creating chord progressions,

You love the games. You love to sing.

Yet you tear up—wilting like the flowers he got you,

bawling as if you just lost to another's breakthrough,

Holding onto your sweater and praying for the day to end.

Sleep comes and goes like a mother;

you turn away to another.

Breaking habits is already hard enough—

you don’t even like looking at yourself in the mirror.

A deep-rooted sense of melancholy, a sudden epiphany—

you suddenly can't remember how to spell with clarity.

Maybe in another universe, you'd know enough about all the things that they seem to adore.

Would that finally make you happy, though?

Would that help you stop crying for a while?

What happened to all the things that you love?

Perched on the ceiling fan, the cobwebs twirl under the nightlight.

You won’t make sense to the people that really matter,

Do you not see what you have been doing to yourself?

Do you not see all the pain that glides through?

pathetic as it seems—the life you are willing to give to anything that moves—

isn't that enough?

Do you really have to mean something to exist for another day?

Oh when did all your love stop mattering to me?

[jamesissadagain]

But what about the songs that you like?

The movies that you adore?

Do they mean nothing compared to all the ratings and brilliant scores?

Wiped away like dust on an old windowpane,

you feel like you obstruct the view of the yellow sun.

Yet the light still peeks through the particles clinging to marbled plates.

And you cry—trying to bite down on the spit collected in your mouth,

nails digging deeper and deeper into the concrete,

feeling sadder than the moon, drowning in your own gloom.

The white stripes on your shame burn with the intention to hurt,

and you clutch harder onto the only strings you know how to play,

paying the cost of wanting to be part of something bigger.

Why don’t you see value in the things that loved you regardless?

You love trashy pop. You love princess movies.

You love sewing booty shorts and mini skirts.

You love making music, creating chord progressions,

You love the games. You love to sing.

Yet you tear up—wilting like the flowers he got you,

bawling as if you just lost to another's breakthrough,

Holding onto your sweater and praying for the day to end.

Sleep comes and goes like a mother;

you turn away to another.

Breaking habits is already hard enough—

you don’t even like looking at yourself in the mirror.

A deep-rooted sense of melancholy, a sudden epiphany—

you suddenly can't remember how to spell with clarity.

Maybe in another universe, you'd know enough about all the things that they seem to adore.

Would that finally make you happy, though?

Would that help you stop crying for a while?

What happened to all the things that you love?

Perched on the ceiling fan, the cobwebs twirl under the nightlight.

You won’t make sense to the people that really matter,

Do you not see what you have been doing to yourself?

Do you not see all the pain that glides through?

pathetic as it seems—the life you are willing to give to anything that moves—

isn't that enough?

Do you really have to mean something to exist for another day?

Oh when did all your love stop mattering to me?

[jamesissadagain]

Choose life.

Choose you.

Choose your smiles. Choose your nods. Choose your waddles. Choose your walks. Choose your hand grabs. Choose your shoulder kisses. Choose your light in your eyes. Choose your smartness. Choose your kindness. Choose your patience. Choose your passions. Choose your gifts. Choose your talents. Choose your wins. Choose your curiosity. Choose your happiness. Choose your gratitude. Choose your attention. Choose your weirdness. Choose your eccentricities. Choose your hyper fixations. Choose your insomnia. Choose your allergies. Choose your 'tumor'. Choose your humor. Choose your big eyes. Choose your tiny nails. Choose your soft lips. Choose your freckles. Choose your red hair in the sun. Choose your body. Choose your obsession to see me in a dress. Choose your clothes. Choose your micro-cropped hoodie. Choose your white slippers. Choose your black shoes. Choose your vanilla body wash. Choose your chammanthi-podi. Choose your messy room. Choose your voice. Choose your songs. Choose your notes. Choose your brushes. Choose your strokes. Choose your masterpieces. Choose your words. Choose your lines. Choose your rhymes. Choose your poems. Choose your prose. Choose your creativity. Choose your genuineness. Choose your sincerity. Choose your ear rings. Choose your too-big-for-you glasses. Choose your tote bag. Choose your lip balm. Choose your wallpaper. Choose your photos. Choose your memories. Choose your family. Choose your friends. Choose your fanfics. Choose your ships. Choose your stories. Choose your favorites. Choose your music. Choose your artists. Choose your greats. Choose your glances. Choose your yaps. Choose your rants. Choose your debates. Choose your skibidi. Choose your hand in mine. Choose your lips on mine. Choose your heart with mine. Choose your laughs. Choose your tears. Choose your lows. Choose your highs. Choose your in-betweens. Choose your choices. Choose your future. Choose your time.

Choose truth.

Choose love.

Choose me.

Choose you.

Choose life.

[jamesissadagain]

Verse-1

Picture me in your favourite clothing

Parting the seas, wings unfolding

You make me feel like i'm obtrusive

Scalding hot, feel the iron melting

And I was just your Messiah,

Your christ burning beneath the fire

you were my one from a few dozens

Lulling you to sleep, waiting for a reason

Chorus

30 silver coins, toss the Roseries away

Miss the spot again,

Kissed me on the cheeks Instead,

draining, refraining from touching you like a queen

but you keep pulling away

yet the fear in your eyes gives you away

Verse-2

Hail god, I said, Satan got locked away

He was my brother after all,

Feeling sick to the core

pilgrims, my saviour, dear Mary beloved

Take care of him cause we used to be something quite forbidden

Bridge

In my tomb i rest, in my virgin mothers womb i lay

Like the nails biting down on my skin, they crossed my name off, say

Judas, would you do it all again,

If you knew my all?

Like the crown, spines breaking, lips cracking tears gleaming, my new home

Chorus

Would you go? Would you still keep regretting the 30-

[jamesissadagain]

My boyfriend is so pretty for no reason, I gen can't wrap my head around how pretty he is, I gen think he's the most beautiful creature to ever exist on this planet earth, he exudes iridescence and radiates warmth