#spoonie poet

[ididit-allofit-foryou]

here's a poem from my new poetry book, Know Me!!!

(transcript and tag list below--let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

@iknowtheendnatural @wishful-seeker @fluffylemonaidz @queerplatonicnatural @711thuniverse @salbinic-paradox @pink-enby-in-distress  @bluebuckstallion @colinthrobinson @hitori-alouette @dwcoded @bloodqueendean @ezrabellamy @scarlettmichkat @wildestdreamsdean @heres-to-evil-skanks @antiherodean @doctorprofessorsong @november5th @nguyenxtrang  @floral-cas @harryshousevevo @thiscastielhasflown @dailydestieldose @fredzina @dusenkasab @diamond-order @beanmom @quitetoomuchforme @one-more-offbeat-anthem @justgayangelthingz

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hollowed ground

I am a dog gnawing a bone gone dry, so full 

of want, so hungry, so desperate 

to be filled. I crave to be seen 

in all my ugliness and still be chosen; I want 

someone to know my thorns 

as well as my soft, and to love 

each as dearly. I need to know I don't have to be palatable 

to be worthy of love. I need to know there is someone 

out there who will not pull the drapes 

on my scars, who will tend my wounds 

and not scorn me for being damaged. My heart 

is a black hole and a peach at once: yearning 

to be filled, yet so tender-sweet. My zipper-mouth 

soul craves for someone, for anyone, to caress 

it soft, to tame it gentle, to give it more peace 

than it has ever known, and a home 

where it can rest long-last. My chest 

is so heavy! So tired! So full and so empty 

at once! I ache to know the comfort of indulgence. 

Give me a buffet of love and I will eat the plates 

clean. My stomach-heart growls, a starved 

lion for what it's worth; tempt it with steak and see how it roars! 

I've never been so close to love, or to understanding 

what it means, as I was at 20 in a car, kissing 

someone who is no longer a girl, and who no longer loves 

me, and who never gave me the chance to love them. I’ve forgotten 

what it tastes like, but it still echoes on my eye-lid-black 

when I blink. Love is a ghost haunting the chambers 

of my lungs, screaming to my shaky breath 

how much it has to give, and no one to give 

to. All I want is to be painfully human, in the most ancient 

way. To love is to live, is to be known 

and to know and to choose to stay despite 

it all; it is to be chosen despite it all! 

I want to be someone's someone! I want to know 

the passions of Sappho; to know the nerve of DiVinci 

to model Christ after his gay lover; 

I’d say I want the kind of love that starts wars, 

but I’ve always been a pacifist. I am a chronic 

overachiever, but I always fail at love. Teach 

me I am not broken! Kiss my bruised 

knuckles and battered heart; rope 

together my scattered shards and mold 

them into something beautiful! I want something 

more real than my pain. I want someone 

who makes it all worth it. I want someone who looks 

at me like the Sistine chapel in all my chapped-lip 

glory, and who dares to make me hope 

again– or for the first time!

       -willow rain fae

[atomicraft]

Tremors: a zine about being an artist with chronic shaky hands!

hello !! I’m atomic, and we’re an artist with a mild hand/limb tremor, so what better thing to do then make a zine about it 👀

[bugzz-105]

Jealous of people who don't wake up in the morning feeling like they got hit by a train in their sleep

[bynellmarie]

Chronic and invisible pain is so hard to live with and even harder to convey to the healthy people in your life.

[my-illness-and-me]

It’s gotten worse and

You don’t even know it.

You haven’t seen it,

Not properly.

I’ve told you, vaguely,

But always with a hint of false positivity-

Playing pretend.

You haven’t seen the full extent of the pain,

The pieces of fabric and metal

I attach to my knees each morning

Soon, I won’t be able to

Hide it from you

Anymore.

I’ll have to see you.

And you’ll have to see me.

All of me.

And it makes me worry;

Will we ever be the same?

You knew me

Healthier

Younger

Livelier

Will you love me sicker?

Should you?

Or has this parasite of an illness 

Taken enough from me

That the version of me you knew 

Is gone?

Diluted?

I wonder, Will you still grasp me?

Understand me?

Or will every interaction be a game of fencing,

Constantly taking steps forwards and backwards

Again and again?

Will you gauge your words before you speak?

Will you hold me gently?

Too gently,

The kind of gentle that says 

You think you’ll break me?

The kind that shows how differently you see me?

When I, inevitably see you,

What scares me most is

What your eyes reflection might show.

That maybe, it’ll repeat back to me

All that I can’t help 

But think about myself.

[carabiner-pansy]

i ate granola and yoghurt

for lunch, today. i sat

on the bed,

crunching freeze-dried berries

relishing their sour crunch.

i haven’t done much lately-

rare to leave the house, and i feel

almost like an old dog, eyes milky

legs shaking, but still,

desperate to breathe the fresh air.

we’re sat in the garden, it’s nearly 8pm

and the roses and leaves are lit with gold

as the sun begins her descent,

catching the iridescence of bird feathers

as they dip across the sky.

my body hurts. i know it always will.

but i had granola and berries for lunch,

and i pick the seeds out of my teeth

as we sit in the garden.

[heiserosandhesapollo]

"fibromyalgia part 1: Ibuprofen, 200mg, taken as needed" (2022)

transcription under cut

It starts as a low ache.

You're working retail

so you figure it's normal

for your wrists and knees to hurt.

But it keeps getting worse

until one day

you can barely stand.

With no idea what it is,

you measure out pills,

two every six hours,

just enough to

(hopefully)

not destroy your liver.

[raisemerryhell]

Basic witches need their emotional support water bottles 🥹

Available here: raisemerryhell.com

Raisemerryhell.etsy.com

[thursday-rose]

Substances are addicted to me!!

They cling to me, these habits, Like moths to a flame. I am their beacon, Their irresistible call.

Cigarettes curl around my fingers, Smoke weaving through my hair. They crave my touch, A dance of ash and air.

Whiskey swirls in my glass, Golden and warm. It seeks my lips, A kiss of fire and storm.

Pills line up, obedient, In neat, colorful rows. They wait for my command, A symphony of highs and lows.

They are addicted to me, These substances, these vices. I am their refuge, Their solace and their chains.

Written by Thursday Rosemary

[lvl8warlock]

I started a substack! It's about writing with mental illness. I'm a queer disabled writer who wants to share their experiences and advice. Check out this first post and see if you want to subscribe<3

[touresmonologue]

i had to fight

for every breath i’ve taken

i was born with lungs

the size of a quarter

but i came out screaming

my mother and father

left my life in the hands

of little boys

and they made sure i lived

to see tomorrow

my death calls every day

and i choose to not pick up the phone

my body is erupting into flames

burning from the inside out

and i smile and nod

when they ask if i am okay

i yell

at the top of my lungs

and i’ll cry til the end

again, they ask if i am okay

i say no

the tears stain my shirt

and the wind makes me cold

i go home

and i don’t answer the phone

you don’t get to tell me

that i am not a survivor

[scardecourcier]

#CovidPoetry

One fucking trip to the emergency vet Was avoiding going outside but I'd do it for my pet One December outing turned a whole life around You'll be fine, just a virus, just rest up and you'll be sound.

"You look so well though" but I can't climb stairs Been in pain my whole life but this tips past what I can bear Male doctors give me sideeye like I'm tryna misbehave Body flaring in reactions, can't eat anything I crave.

I think I had a brain once, can't remember where I put it Had confidence before but these experiences have shook it I'm not sure if I can meet you, not sure how long I can stay Dunno what energy I'll bring until it all gets snatched away

But we're four years beyond it, so it's over now, right? Tubes are rammed, buses jampacked, bars are full up every night Yes I'd love to come and see you, love to party, now you ask, But I still can't go outside cuz you won't WEAR A FUCKING MASK.

[by-georgie-wood]

repost maybe if you'd like 👀👀

[bynellmarie]

Tired

Tired in my bones tired in my soul tired in my muscles tired in my toes.

Tired in my brain tired in my thoughts tired in my dreams tired in my hope.

Tired in ways I'll never find the words for.

Tired like you'll never know.

[my-illness-and-me]

As horrific as being a sick child is

I think being a sick child and

Growing into a sick adult

Is worse

Every sick person has a day when

Their reality hits them

When they realize the severity

Of their very own existence

I was 7.

I was in second grade when

I realized the other kids in my class

Don’t sit in the floor of a doctor’s office

Once a month and cry.

Because they don’t understand why

All these adults won’t stop looking at them

And speaking to them in

Words they have yet to learn

Imagine that for a second,

I was 7.

From that day forward,

I’ve lived every part of my life,

With disease in hand.

I often wish nothing more than

To go back to the days

When I was unknowingly and innocently

Running around with a monster

Inside of me

Growing as I was

Oh how naive,

But I was just a child.

I knew no such thing as disease

As depressing as that sounds,

The next part is worse

There came another day 

In my life,

When my disease revealed it’s 

Second face to me.

I was 14.

I was extremely drunk with my best friend,

And for the first time in my life

I was talking to someone openly

Without hesitation about what it means

To live sick surrounded by the healthy.

Allowing myself to think aloud

About my disease 

Instead of just on pen and paper

Pushed me to realize that

This really is it.

That I was given one life,

And I made to spend it

Deteriorating instead of living

[poetryorchard]

Join Blossom and @nashira this Saturday for a cathartic and creative space centring invisible illness!

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