amaltheatoast

[amaltheatoast]

I love Conner James!!!

I love other things too!!!

But I love him more!!!!!!!!

[amaltheatoast]

There’s always room for things to go wrong.

There’s room for things to go wrong ten years down the line.

When we have four children, two more than what you wanted.

When I’m not as fit as I was.

When you’ve been sober, longer.

When we’re both ten years older.

[amaltheatoast]

#poetry #original poem #artists on tumblr #poem #sad poem #addiction

[amaltheatoast]

Do you think that when Jesus was nailed to the cross he just went spelunking for three days (and three nights) and got lost?

[amaltheatoast]

Fuck

[amaltheatoast]

Me When They refused to unfollow a porn stars porn acc when they also had her regular acc lmao

[amaltheatoast]

You blocked me on tumblr? Pussy.

[amaltheatoast]

Not sure if this is a secret tumblr @neil-gaiman

[amaltheatoast]

Eat your fucking heart out.

[amaltheatoast]

I thought I would miss you

I thought that when you were

Gone my world would be

Over and the light would be gone

But I’m still here.

I press forward like a little red car

A little spotted bug

Or a little dying dog

I remain

Still around

I love you

I do but I love you

From afar.

I can gaze upon your face and feel

nothing.

I love you in a way you love the shitty place you grew up in. In a way that you’d be

sad that someone repainted your childhood bedroom a sad shade of grey. In a way

That I can acknowledge your beauty and

I can acknowledge that you were never for

Me.

[amaltheatoast]

Literally fuck you

[amaltheatoast]

Pill Bug

The pillbug scuttled along the concrete,

right by the rubber edge of my shoe.

A small pool of my blood formed in front of its chosen path.

Certainly, this won’t do. The small bug thinks to itself.

Then the little pillbug alters its course, going around the back of my shoe.

And I miss the little man, the small boy.

And I cry. Not for the blood on the ground from my bleeding mouth.

Not for the searing pain in my head.

But because I miss the pillbug.

And it will never miss me.

#poets on tumblr #poetry #poem #artists on tumblr #original poem

[amaltheatoast]

Bunny

My heart beats fast in my small

Bunny chest.

Staring up into your deep

Brown eyes.

I can smell the blood on your teeth,

The metallic scent on your breath.

And it isn't your fault,

It's in your nature.

Although your claws are dull

And the blood is old,

Although you're soft

And your touch is tender.

I try to slow my heart

As I'm pinned below you.

I try my best to not be stuck in stasis

To reciprocate the feeling you so desperately need.

But you're a wolf

So in theory,

You could just take.

#poetry #life #short poem #poem

[amaltheatoast]

Disgust.

The waves were a pale pink,

pretty, infantile, a color of innocence.

The pier boards stained red from the repeated

thrashing of the blood waves.

He rose from the bloodied water, his whole body screaming

from being exposed to the sun.

Hundreds of tentacles grabbing at the air, gripping for me, I can feel the sharp suction cups against my skin.

He groped for me, for the tiny little body I once had,

my once soft exterior, hardened by sheer will.

I'm not tiny, even compared to his mass,

towering over even the highest waves.

The disgusting mass of flesh bleeds back into the ocean,

leaving only the dark rings on my skin.

[amaltheatoast]

Silent Spectator

The world is blurred in black and white,

My wings are beating at 200 cycles per second.

Attract us with honey, not vinegar,

But the scent of your sweat drew me in.

The wall is cold beneath my feet, shaking.

I can feel the vibrations of the sounds you're making together.

I sit desperately on my small spot on the wall, Fearing if I move you'll hear my faint buzz.

Then I'll again be snuffed.

So I sit, listening to your love.

I can sense the goosebumps,

But I'm just a fly on the wall.

#poetry #poem

[amaltheatoast]

A dandelion after it has gone white,

An evanescent beauty.

You're soft with the illusion of spikes.

Full of fluff, but so fragile you

threaten to

flow away with even the vaugest

wind.

[amaltheatoast]

The building of metal and glass rose out from the plain desert field, giant black windows round the skyscraper as high as the eye can reach. Entering, a cold gust of wind rushes through my clothes and hair, gripping onto me as if trying to push me back from where I came.

Walls bare and beige, gray and white, ugly colors plain and unprovoking. No one like me here, not even pictures of workers or families on the walls. Not a trace of person, no pencils or papers, only monitors and blank ugly walls. Static. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as something grows closer, descending from the highest of the high floors. Seeming to shake each pane of glass from its metal-holding frame with its lumbering steps.

My mind can picture it, the beast from my last years. Bounding like a giant puppy with siney limbs, trim and thin. A fox's head connected to the agile body of a wolf all bound in a tan hide like that of a deer. Deceivingly cute, sly and deadly. Shedding fur as the beast finally reached the bottom floor, my floor. The hide is tan no longer, black and seeming to burn like a dark ember, radiating heat of anger and sadness. The animal stares at me, staring at my drab clothes, at the fat around my tummy, always focused. It screams a roar of anguish, loss. Still staring, the beast begins to walk.

Elevator. There’s an elevator to my right. Up, up. Pressing the next floor button fervently as none of the others will light. Elevator music plays in my ears, what would normally be a calming beat is soured by the sound of the burning beast scratching up the stairs, screaming its normal scream, that of insult as well as injury. The music morphs into its whimpering cry. Hitting the next floor, I take a step onto an ugly green carpeted floor with a leather couch and a plain coffee table, a red ox head mounted onto the otherwise plain and boring office wall. The room smells of coffee and gunpowder, as well as dog and melted ice-cream. The beast appears from the stair doorway, looking around the room to see its past. Something it will never get back to. Ice-Cream stains and a stale coffee scent.

The creature starts its chase, reaching its thin front limbs towards me in an effort to hold me to its hard chest where its black fast beating heart sits, burning as the rest of its body is. Trying to trap me in its deadly hug as it did all the others. We are at the top floor, there was only the bottom and then here. Looking out the window as the beast lumbers towards me makes me sure of this fact.

Kitchen drawer. A dull knife used for opening packages lies in the kitchen drawer under the broken and splintered coffee pot, next to an empty gun. The beast lies still, looking at three perfect holes in the poor wooden walls, 3 small o’s. Running its paws over these holes, the beast releases another cry of loss and anger. The knife is in my side pocket and the gun is in my hand. The burning creature knows that the gun is empty, knows what happened to the last three bullets, yet it still stops, staring yet again as it so often does.

The beast leaps, the knife is in my hand now, the monster lands on me, its ember skin burning my arms and legs as it tries to embrace with its clumsy and skinny form. The knife enters its chest and I can feel its burning insides as the blade makes its way through, it screams, clutching me tighter as if begging me not to go, though it’s the one going. I drag the hand holding the blade down over the ugly things belly, digging further in, feeling every nerve snap and every muscle tear. The heat dies as the beast dies.

The beast now lay on the floor beside me, the burned carbon layer shedding into the fig ure of a man, a man with his wifes blood on his hands. He lay silent and still. The earth swallows the building and I wake up in a dark car after the casket was lowered, the air inside stale as a smile tinges my lips, gone for good.

#short story #tw abuse #surviving narcissism #survival