blurbs & one-liners

I call this the garden. I'm planting some of my favorite lines from my notes and scraps of paper, and maybe one day they'll grow into full poems. maybe not, though. they're welcome to stay here for as long as they want.

I think the inside of my stomach has teeth, and if not for the acid, they would gnash and bite and tear their way out.

This is driven as much by love as it is by fear.

slice my veins, release the ghost in me. spread my blood across the galaxy, so my pain would only be stars and the essence of the universe instead of dust.

I believe I am a monster in my entirety. I am ugly in all things. I gravitate towards that which causes terror and suffering. I am failing in my endeavors to spread this negativity, for it only festers and rots in my own soul. I envy those who look upon my deformity of spirit and see something worthy of being saved. if only I harbored good will inwards. I am a monster only to myself.

(I no longer think I am the villain in my story. I think I am the monster.)

the world is such a mess. why were you so unlucky as to have to exist in it? trapped in its orbit until gravity gives out and you are sent spiraling out towards space. maybe then things would make sense. just you, the stars, the crushing weight tearing the air from your lungs, and the freezing cold turning your eyelashes to crystals.

if I am a caterpillar, I cannot figure out if I am at the point in my life before or after the cocoon, and I fear death regardless.

I am in pieces. there is no puzzle here.

sometimes I think if my arms were long enough I could claw out the sky like cheap wallpaper.

I may never be able to save me, but I will be able to sing, and maybe that is the same thing.

I am full of envy I am full of rage I am full of crippling terror I am full of cosmos and stardust and sometimes, if I remember to shrink my field of vision, I am full of peace and contentment and happiness too. what a joy it is to learn something more about myself every day, and to say in turn that I have learned something about the universe.

the weather today smells like healing, like memories and a bad storm. if I'm learning not to care does that mean I'm getting better or worse?

I will put all my pain into words and they will call it fiction.