#something like a poem i guess

[trickstersaint]

shelter animal // january 2024

[quaranmine]

i think the whole cringe is dead, radical sincerity, depth of genuine emotion, earnest effort, and unironic love thing that tumblr has going on the past few years has transformed my outlook on things and changed me for the better. but it does mean that now the people i know irl will give me strange looks for being too sappy or too poetic or too dedicated or too excited about about something because they're still stuck in their "well i only like this ironically" phase. guess that's their problem tho not mine <3

[just-some-moss-and-bones]

because i love you in green.

but you love them in pink.

(an accidental poem that i wrote as a rant, but it needed more weight)

Something about being aroace spec

and feeling like i cant offer close relationships

in the "propper" way,

and so, i never will

have that deep connection

with the people i love

because they dont see me as someone

who can love in that way.

And its not their fault and its not really mine

because were friends and i love them

but they love other people

in a way i dont understand

and even if they loved me

it wouldnt be right

because its

diferent.

because i love you in green

but you love them in pink

[syn4k]

i tried to find myself in the stars but i was too small for them. then i tried to find myself in the trees but i moved too much for them. then i tried to find myself in the sea and i cared too much for it to accept me. then i tried to find myself in god but i wasn't divine enough for her. then i tried to find myself in the government but i don't enjoy having power enough for them. and i tried to find myself in the work of my hands and of my mouth but it was always imperfect and i got too tired too quickly and i tried to find myself in stories but i never leave my room and i tried to find myself in the void of space but it's nothing and i'm something. i even tried to find myself in myself but i couldnt recognize anything id ever done. exhausted eventually i went back home to find something familiar but i was a stranger in my own house and nobody recognized me anymore for the world had changed me in ways they couldn't understand so really what the fuck am i supposed to do now? 

[badlydrawndrawnings]

the films adaptations being 100% against gus having played growltiger is something i like very much.

[circusrosedaydreams]

I want to get a new tattoo And a yellow chiffon dress A lifetime supply of melon soda And a new denim jacket that fits

I don’t want anyone to tell me “You make me a better person” I don’t want to have to teach you I just want to be someone you love

I want to be able to pay rent I want to go live with my best friend And just be someone in their twenties In a place where nobody else knows them

I want Hozier to read one of my poems And say that he thinks it’s nice ‘Cause I think I could ride that high For maybe the rest of my life

I want my mom to tell me she’s proud of me And to tell my sister I love her I want flowers on my birthday And someone to really care

There’s so many things in the world And really I just want a few But though it’s hard to leave the rest I think I’ll be ok If I just get another tattoo

-Circus

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Tsk

-

Everything feels

Creaky.

As if none of it was real.

Waking from a dream

In which

You cared about me.

To the reality that

You'd toss me aside.

How convincing you were

When you told me you loved me.

And how foolish of me,

To have given love

In return.

Ah, well.

Let my body bend from this,

Leave my silhouette a new shape.

I'd like to say you're not leaving

With a piece of me unreturned.

But I've never been any good at lying.

I've just never..

Been very good at..

At lying.

x

[castieldelamancha]

Dean looks down at his lap and notices the little mountain of paper pieces that he has created there, his hands nervously tearing up into small pieces the brochure the bubbly young girl that welcomed them at the door gave him when they got to the bar.

Castiel, who was apparently talking to Dean, he doesn't know what about, because he wasn't paying attention, follows his gaze down and, slowly, pries the last remnants of what is left of the bright yellow brochure from Dean's hands.

"Dean, is everything okay?" Dean nods giving Cas a smile that he hopes is convincing enough, and judging by the way Castiel stares at him it probably isn't.

Get a grip man, he tells himself, what are you, fifteen?

Nervous, he is nervous, because he thought this whole night out for Cas and Cas is important and he refuses to let this be anything but perfect. Like he can control every little thing, like he can't accept he actually can't do that.

He takes Cas out on dates now, because they are part of the human experience, because secretly he had always yearned for the chance to do normal things like that with someone he loved, even tough he never thought he could love so much, so fiercely, so openly as he loves his Cas. They spend so much time together nowadays and Dean loves it, but he felt every activity was too much Dean and not enough Castiel. Even if they enjoy similar things and Castiel doesn't seem to mind what they do that much, Dean put all his energy into finding something that they could share but that could mean something more for Cas.

He found this amateur poetry reading night, and he thought, why not? He convinced himself, and then his brain went and gave him a list of why not's while he drove them here.

"I just want this to be good, that's all, okay?" He finally confesses, because Cas is still staring, tone light, as if he wasn't that worried, not at all.

Castiel's eyes soften at that, he puts away the ruined brochure and reaches for one of Dean's hands, interlacing their fingers together, the movement almost causing the pieces of paper mountain to crumble down.

"If it isn't," he says, apparently reading Dean like the open book he is to him these days, "it won't be your fault, I will still appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I will still appreciate the time we spend together."

Dean doesn't even know what he was worrying about, this is Castiel, he reminds himself. He made his way throughout Hell just to get him, to help him, to protect him, to be by his side, over and over again. He can survive two hours of shitty poetry, if it's even shitty. Maybe Dean is judging these strangers too harshly. He squeezes Castiel's hands, unable to say anything since the lights are turning off and people are clapping around them for the first person taking the stage.

Half an hour later Dean decides it isn't boring, nor is it awful, his brain can suck it up. He hasn't let go of Castiel's hand yet, and it isn't in his plans to do so any time soon either.

Struck me like a bolt of lightning,

brought my heart back back to life

The man on stage reads out loud, and Dean, Dean simply turns to look at Cas, watching his focused profile,

the brightness of this light of yours,

fighting off the gloom of this shadow of mine.

Castiel turns to look at him then, mouthing an I love you at him that Dean leans in to whisper right back at him.

[p4nishers]

can we actually take a moment and remember swan upon leda? can we actually shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and think about our lord and savior swan upon leda because i'm tired of doing it alone every single day guys

[melynnwater]

here's a short story I wrote that is, shockingly, made to process trauma of growing up with undiagnosed ADHD.

Remember that self love is a radical act. Hope you enjoy.

Yes yes, how tragically hilarious!

Moving on to the next exhibit, this is one of god's interactive art pieces, still ongoing!

This girl was made to exist in slow motion, always moving slower than the world around her.

Hm, yes?

...

Excellent question! Of course she doesn't know!! That's part of the brilliance of the art! She doesn't even know she's cursed, she just thinks she's not trying hard enough!

Observe how her emotions are on a delay. Her reactions are slow. She needs so much more rest than her peers. Her sleep schedule is chaotic and fluctuating. She can't be consistent with anything this world expects from her. It's not even her fault!! Ahahaha!

This exhibit tiptoes the line between art and experiment, to see how long a human can blame itself for something it can't know isn't its fault.

Silly girl!!

Oh look, look! Here she is running late for another appointment! She thinks she's just bad at time management!! How hilarious!

She carries the frustration of simply not being able to take a shower shorter than 15 minutes, you should've seen how many people thought she was just being lazy.

She's almost stopped taking showers entirely as a result. What a freak! A dirty, smelly freak of a woman.

Ha! Look at her now! She's still processing high school now, in her 20s? Could you imagine!

Oh, yes, she has found some level of acceptance and support. Her girlfriend is very patient with her. She can't help but feel that patience is only temporary, though. She might not even realize her beloved's patience ran out until a year later!

We're all waiting with bated breath to see if she can find the others from this same exhibit.

So sad you can't help but laugh.

Now take a look at this fine specimen over here...!

[coquelicoq]

i NEED to write a poem like i will go certified cuckoo bananas if i do not create some poetry at this very instant.

[mauv-the-bluest-cat-ever]

evil's fault is literally cinema holly shit

[fridayyy-13th]

so that aro poem i submitted for class a little bit ago did get some readers who understood it, yeah. but there were enough people interpreting the yellow roses i included (which represent platonic love in floriography) as representative of fear, focusing solely on the yellow part, and came away from the poem thinking it was about pining for one’s best friend, about fear of ruining a friendship with one’s romantic feelings. despite the entire stanza i dedicated to amatonormativity and several references to such throughout. which really irked me, but i tried to brush it off.

…tbh it didn’t really work. so for this next assignment i’m drawing on the feeling of aromantic rage. something so obvious it can’t be construed as anything other than “stop fucking telling me i need to want to be in a romantic relationship, i don’t fucking want that no matter how much you try and make me!”

[ante--meridiem]

Extremely confidence boosting to me that every time I've read my poetry out loud in public at least one person has come up to me afterwards to say they like it. More confidence boosting than people telling me I'm good at anything else which usually just feels very awkward because poetry is something I don't feel I can self evaluate at all because I know how easy it is for something to accidentally come out cliched/overwrought.

[hearty-an0n]

The bottle is so hard to open and the pills are so tiny, but i did it. (Aren’t you proud of me, big brother?)

[sulfurzee]

> You are encased in the cement that is those you love who love you.

> It protects you. Makes you beautiful. It will immortalize you.

> Your legs are restless.

> You're going to have to move, sooner or later.

> The sun will blind you, at first. The wind will feel like razors against your skin for a time.

> Do you think it'll be worth it?

> Who would choose to become human, over art?

> There will be times where your once graceful shoulders will hunch in pain. Your formerly serene face crumpled in ugly anger.

> You will be so scared to turn around and see the wreckage. Chunks of cement and dust are all that will be left of the statue you used to be.

> Aren't you scared?