saturnray

[saturnray]

when the dentist drills into my tooth,

my hand will tighten on the arm of the chair.

i know who's arm it's supposed to be.

i miss you at my most childish.

i miss you in my pain and

wonder how i could get through

the pain of losing you

without the very you to talk me through it

[saturnray]

when i am in pain i cut up the pages of my mothers bible.

have any been killed for refusing to worship this image?

i am contending with two ferocious beasts.

with shaking hands i plan

of my own corrupt religion.

i feel the pain of those ahead of me

while writhing in my chains.

i shudder with remembrance of what you told me;

fruits of my labour could prove to be all too bitter.

i sit in my fear, quiet and ready to strike,

craving a leader

[saturnray]

Today I am thinking of the deer I saw on the road.

I was in the car, next to my mom, driving back from my very first time at a support group for teens with dead parents or family members.

it was smeared twenty feet,

organs and blood and eyeballs and all.

it hadn't been in the road on the drive to our location, and only was seen after an hour and a half of discussing what we would say to our dead parents if they suddenly appeared in front of us.

and suddenly I knew the answer.

"that's horrible. it's fresh, too. it's probably still warm."

and I knew what my mom would say

"it's probably still warm." She echoed.

there is more poetry there I cannot yet find, because the idea is too raw.

it's horrible. it's fresh, too. it's probably still warm.

[saturnray]

if i was small i would

spin.

my skin would turn ice cold with every move,

my arms flying over my head in

slowed motion.

if i was small i could fit in

to the walls like the slice of an orange.

smaller i'd be, writhing in pain as my

soul throbs against my chest.

if i was a god,

i'd bless the souls of the good ones.

i would wish bad things on the people i love and

save the ones i dont.

i'd kiss every

teary eyed girl on the forehead and

clutch their hearts tightly until they seep through my fingers no more.

i am told its my fault.

small things have a way of being honest like

a stray cat who can smell the clean.

i wonder if one day

it will burst at the seems.

yellow, dripping out onto the table.

i'd say,

"i'm so sorry",

i'd say "let's pretend",

i'd say look away and

laugh until i cried.

there is no proper way to say im sorry for what i write,

there is no correct place to put my anger.

i don't know how to say

i wish to take flight-

if i could fly i'd land on a stage, shake in the arms of tension,

knowing i chose to disappoint the expectant eyes.

i'd fly through the world and scowl at the heads,

fuming, cradled by the sun.

i'd kiss a bird on the claw, licking the blood off my lips and

remembering the taste.

i would land to applause, a heckler

overpowered by the grand scheme of it all.

if i could have a daughter- id say

"you are just enough."

and relish in the fact she knows nothing of my voice.

when she cries and squirms in my arms, i'll ignore the chill in my spine.

i'd tell my daughter she cannot fly. i'd beg her to stay small.

i'd explain to her our gods and the injustice of it all. and i imagine she would

cry, clutching me like water,

and she would imagine she was nothing at all.

[saturnray]

the worst part is it

buzzes

in the background.

you are a body of water

and i am swimming in it.

i am a map and

you are the blue lines.

i swallowed my breath to

feel what you did but

minerals can't replicate

the taste

[saturnray]

Common Swifts Bruno Liljefors (Swedish, 1860-1939)

[saturnray]

not something i'd normally reblog but 😭😭

mhmmm….. just thinking about this……..

[saturnray]

YOUR POETRY IS FIRE!!! <333333

you are literally so sweet and you have literally no idea what this means to me.🩵🩵

[saturnray]

someone told me about safety in numbers while making a joke no one should repeat i used to think people were safer together but there is a poem that is not only words a poem that is a boy who is eleven grinning through pages saying there are two of him

there is a title to the poem i dare not speak to name a thing is to give it power of a sort and this feels too dangerous by far already

the book casts shadows behind veils even of sanity: words that can only enlighten and who wants to be changed so deeply?

i closed the book but the poem remained like a song in my head trying to break free & i don't know how long i can contain

[saturnray]

your scent-

a gun, a hot rag, the jaws of time-

it lingers.

when i smell my clothes it burns my nose and

i feel like i could die.

i only knew you so long.

there is a fine line between hot and searing-

and its been blurred.

and when you

polish your gun and

wipe your wounds and

bite as hard as you can-

i'll be there.

bleeding, wiping, biting

[saturnray]

you are sick and i do not forgive you.

i am healthy as a horse and i should.

i used to be shattered and in that moment i would've done anything

but you hugged me like a

mortar and pestle and kissed me like

a lighter and spoon and

you spoke to me like i was to be diffused

you were cautious, not like with the glass that i was but like you were

deciding which wire to cut

and at night there were no wires

and it was smooth because it

had to be and

you cut and you cut and there was nothing to sever and i begged

and you cut and there

was nothing to

cut but you moved your hands with

striking precision,

hacking and

i felt sick and it was dark and

it was cold and you were there but

i was alone and i could've stopped cutting and you could've stopped helping

but here i am cut and set off and

you are gone and i was alone just

like i thought i was.

and when it was done you

said goodnight and i

turned off the light and i said a prayer

and i dont remeber who i asked but i said

please and i turned away because i couldn't

look at my face and because i knew

there was more

to be cut

[saturnray]

what a shame,

i have danced in borrowed flames,

with the phantoms and the devils.

i have tasted the quiet river to the wildfire;

standing on the edge of devotion,

to drown and to burn, i chose to float.

what a shame,

all flickering lights to my supernovas.

but if i had the gut to consume

all of the spiderwebs around my ache,

tell me, would it finally put an end

to my escaping plans?

—a.m.

[saturnray]

god is real and i can

touch him if i try-

he is not one of us.

they are dark and sick and

she is also kind-

i can feel the warmth from

so far away,

i can feel the bugs squirm between my toes-

i believe you.

i believe you, and i know you can hear me

do you believe me, too?

god is not real,

and my mother is his friend-

god cannot hear you,

and i can see my requests filled in the moon-

he is not here, and the river is wet as it is warm,

it is winter, and my fingers tremble and

he is not real and

i can feel his hands and

she can't hear me and she is not

real-

and neither are you,

and of course i can't feel it, and of course the leaves are

gone, and of course i am here and of course i am alone.

god is not real, but he is next to me.

[saturnray]

Hi, just here to say I am obsessed with your new poem, thank you for putting it into words <3

this made me cry lolol 😭 thank you so much.

[saturnray]

there's is something rotten far deep inside of me.

and when it swells i moan and ache and cry

and clutch anything i can

because it hurts.

it's dark and strong and it beats in my ears like a drum

until its soothed

i bite and scratch because i can feel it,

behind my throat,

somewhere between my stomach and my spine

the rhythm slips through my fingers

and down my arms

because it's not thin enough to escape the chorus

and each vibrating string is a shackle when wet

[saturnray]

this is definitely one of my favorites of all time.

accidentally typed "trench kiss" instead of "french kiss". anyone wanna hold hands and kiss in a muddy hole full of rats as bullets and grenades and artillerary shells fly over our heads?

[saturnray]

Which poets and writers would you say inspire you the most? 💗💗

lovely artist on here @two-bees-poetry is a big inspiration, but i think my most favorite is probably amy lee, or the lyrics in the songs of evanescence (mostly their early work). they use symbolism and metaphors SO well it brings tears to my eyes🥲🥲 tysm for the ask i rlly appreciate it 🫶🫶