savememantis

[savememantis]

[savememantis]

i bet you don’t care you just broke my heart

[savememantis]

I keep falling in love with bones and ashes,

vacant basements and bombs.

This dust is decades old.

[savememantis]

[savememantis]

Faithless girl,

convinced of a yellow sky

she looks for solace in the sea.

Souls will whisper old wives tales saying,

“Imagine what life could be if you allowed yourself to bathe in the sunshine.”

I count my freckles as if they were blessings.

Darkness dims the pigment of my skin,

I stand on the grainy sand in silence.

Faceless (2025)

[savememantis]

rough draft for book II

[savememantis]

the amounts of posts is wonder inducing

haha what do you mean? hope that is a good thing. hope you got a good read.

[savememantis]

You are far too gone once it

creeps in your head, this idea, this spiral,

this demented dread.

As if misery was not enough.

Allow me to hold my breath until I am

swallowing seawater, the ocean in my chest,

neither you or I know what is best.

[savememantis]

Saint (2025)

l'll admit to it.

I am a lottery ticket I will never win

I am a thousand puzzle pieces of white

I am a trickster magician.

I’m sorry you lost your quarter.

Among the dice that is life

there is a shell.

Discarded homes used for growth.

The words “vacancy” is a

halo circling my head.

My body is home to a saint.

[savememantis]

I Highly Doubt It (2025)

Sometime soon she will

wake with the sun and

follow the folklore to a tee.

She will breathe under the awning and

yawn when the moon dims through.

And she will know

that mistakes have a rhyme, a rhythm,

an entire anthology of languages known.

A mix of symbols and synchronicity just

waiting for the clock to strike two.

And we will know

the cloud above your crown drips

acid down your chin as you

cry for the healing to save you.

But you will know

you will be saved when your body is

no longer tied to this plane as

spirit holds plans for you anyway.

[savememantis]

Sometime soon she will

wake with the sun and

follow the folklore to a tee.

She will breathe under the awning and

yawn when the moon dims through.

And she will know

that mistakes have a rhyme, a rhythm,

an entire anthology of languages known.

A mix of symbols and synchronicity just

waiting for the clock to strike two.

And we will know

the cloud above your crown drips

acid down your chin as you

cry for the healing to save you.

But you will know

you will be saved when your body is

no longer tied to this plane as

spirit holds plans for you anyway.

[savememantis]

In The Echo of Meltwater

[savememantis]

— Trista Mateer, from “i still forget we’re not even friends”

[savememantis]

How far does the apple fall? How many miles until I am out of season?

I am not a plant desperate for the sunshine.

I am not photosynthesis in action.

I am not every crystal reaching for the moon.

I am the storm wrecking my path.

I am the tornado.

[savememantis]

about a boy

[savememantis]

should’ve stayed a fantasy in your head

[savememantis]

l'll admit to it.

I am a lottery ticket I will never win

I am a thousand puzzle pieces of white

I am a trickster magician.

I’m sorry you lost your quarter.

Among the dice that is life

there is a shell.

Discarded homes used for growth.

The words “vacancy” is a

halo circling my head.

My body is home to a saint.