juniperberryandbrew - Tumblr blog

[juniperberryandbrew]

How do people get the motivation to just write a story? I've been staring at my screen for 90 minutes and I've written 25 words. Where is the girl who used to write epic sagas when she was 7 years old?

[juniperberryandbrew]

That crushing sense of inadequacy

I gave myself a set of words to see if I could write anything from them today.  Friend. Enemy. Crush. Party. Invite. Upset. Kiss.  Before I got words on paper I looked at the words and noticed they were all things I was focusing too hard on. In my mind I was thinking of my friend, feeling an attachment to them that wasn’t romantic but because I dont feel that way for anyone else I had to attach it to them to keep me from missing out on those feelings. So Friend was now Crush, whether they were in reality or not. Reality is what I think it is I have come to realise. I am my own Enemy because I feel like I’ve got in my own way of this Friend/Crush and myself spending time together. The Friend had an Invite to something that I didn’t, a Party, where they would undoubtedly fall in love and Kiss someone that wasn’t me. Yet the thought of it being me is not satisfying. I just dont want to be left behind and forgotten. I am the lost odd sock stuck in the washing machine filter. You dont really need me because there is another sock you can use as my replacement in a drawer not too far away.  The only words I managed to write before feeling silly and unmotivated were: Recognise me  in the mirror  or in the corner  of a crowded room.  Spot me blending in  with dated wallpaper  until I’m someone else and  you’ve forgotten who you were looking at.  I think it sums the words I gave up perfectly.

[juniperberryandbrew]

[bubblebath]

Breathe in breathe out I’m dying trying here Breathe in there’s still space in my lungs to keep the water flowing  Breathe out let it all go bubbles rise and sink to the bottom Breathe in breathe out I’m trying to die here Breathe in my body fights as if it stands a chance at beating me again Breathe out I give up flailing and relax until there’s no more air

[juniperberryandbrew]

Why I can't feel

I wrote down meaningless times today in my notebook on the train. I allocated them slots and business meetings and things to do in my life that seemed worthy of a person travelling in the middle of the day to get to Leeds. As if my life itself is not worthy or interesting. I would like to know why I have to create another image for others. I am aware that I hate myself and the image I create for others to see yet I forget that destroying it again and again and replacing it with fragments of characters that will never see the light of day again outside of that carriage I sat in does nothing to help my confidence. My self-love is shot. It was broken and torn apart by my own hands and there is nothing that will be done unless I stop ripping apart the mind that I have spent years cultivating for the sake of an intrigued smile from the man sat opposite me in Coach C. 

[juniperberryandbrew]

[hand of God]

Will Graham's pov, I guess He tore into me Briefly and quietly A caress by another name So quick it could have gone  Unnoticed  If not for the blood on our  Conjoined hands This vicious kind of love we live through  Stains us both red In the end But isn’t it such a pretty shade of truth? How much more will it take? I keep telling him,  over and over  like a record scraping through  the same confession.  Does it grate him yet,  this Fountain of feeling  that he found the switch to?  What does he see when he looks at me?  I imagine I am a broken bird  that is too afraid to let him fix me.  I’m left wondering every time  if he knows that I mean it  or  if he chooses to ignore it  for the sake of the  Not-love Obsession he has for me. 

[juniperberryandbrew]

[Clay Cooking}

Apparently, all I can write about now is Murder Husbands :) Colour me with roses and tint me to your liking. Fill me with flowers  until I bloom the way you want. Carve an image fit for canvas and paint me with that red that flows for you as ink to write me in your favourite font.  Burn me to my very core  and melt me to the wick.  Sketch my imperfections. Erase me at your will. Cut me into pieces like paper into shapes. Scrape me into perfect lines  or crush me like a pill. You gave me my role in here. I was made for this. After all, what else am I here for, If this was not your wish?

[juniperberryandbrew]

[root bound]

There’s a blue flower growing in the pit of my stomach It took root when you first looked my way It’s filling me up from the inside And choking me more day by day The moment my chest filled I started to panic The feeling stole my thought and my breath It settled like lead in my lungs And dropped me to my knees in silent death The first of those red soaked signs fell to the floor And I knew my new fate in my gut I was bound to you in that instant Though I would plead for anything but You cannot know my body’s newest secret You won’t understand it isn’t in my heart You’ll look at my decision in abject horror  As I pay with my life to keep us apart They say these blue flowers are a gift for us To help us see our truest love and life But as I cough up my lungs and petals appear  I feel only distain for the God who offered this strife There’s a blue flower growing for you inside of me It invaded my mind and cursed my heart I watch as they cut the roots out of me And finally feel my wretched love for you depart.

[juniperberryandbrew]

[Sweet Williams]

Did I write a poem about Hannigram? Yes. Look at you Pitiful Beautiful Hideous I’d like to fake a mask  and cover your face;  I’ll never stop staring if I don’t. I look into your twisted  smile  and  I get sucked in. I lose myself and become what you are.  It’s frightening, our Becoming. You don’t know if I’ve changed you  the way you’ve obliterated me. I know I already have  and it’s only us in the mirror. This was your design.

[juniperberryandbrew]

No joke, I really want someone who I can just message at random times of the day with no fear that they’ll grow bored of me or frustrated with me. I want someone to read my terrible poetry to or someone to sit there while I ramble on to them about nothing. I want someone who I can do that for in turn too.

[juniperberryandbrew]

“I’m having a proper full-on gay crisis”.

Ah yes, Nick Nelson putting my life story in 8 words.

[juniperberryandbrew]

The feminine urge to dress up in gorgeous lingerie just to be alone in my room staring at myself in the mirror. Self love at its finest.

[juniperberryandbrew]

An Opera In My Head

A sea is singing in my head. I hear its arias ebbing and flowing as they reach for a tale that doesn't know where it is going. A warble in my ear tells me I can't give up on this story yet. Applause is on the track if I promise not to pause or skip it. A bet is made between the tune and me. I can't give in until the chorus starts, but I see they aren't in attendance. I wonder if they know it's today that the overture begins. It's every day. A rippling of the strings lulls my thoughts into a quiet peace and they offer me a brief rest from the cacophony their orchestra brought. This piece has months 'til its debut but they still push on, each day a climb to the top of the score and back to the end again. Its title song is a loop in my mind. Caught out of time. I wait for the director, the producer, my manager to call death on the rehearsal and finally perform to someone other than myself. Is it still not done, this music of the disquieted brain? The break is over, I hear them crawling back into my skull, their instruments echoing as they scramble to the seats. It's not a symphony, not until they mould into one another. They will, given time. My time. I can't afford for them to wait. This melody is aching inside, pounding against the walls of my Skull. her voice clawing against my own. There’s no escaping from the constant refrain. There's music carved into the bone. 

[juniperberryandbrew]

Sugar Rot

I feel your love sticking to my teeth, silencing my words of protest with sweet poison. It chokes away my rising voice. The taste of adoration weighs like lead on my tongue. Every kiss takes away the hope that I can be rid of the honey that glues me to you. Your sugared love is decaying who I am. You're killing who I could be.