ikaros-wrote

[ikaros-wrote]

to kill a bird

i spent my afternoon thinking about murder,

about being too weak to kill.

i had my chance and i missed it

and the thought kept on echoing inside my mind.

i thought about the bird and how helpless it was,

how agonizing her fate must have been,

but i was left wondering

whether i wanted to kill her to end her suffering,

or just to see if i could do it.

and so i came back.

i knew i couldn’t rest if i didn’t.

the air smelled of fresh rain,

my shoes were heavy with the raindrops,

but not as heavy as the stone in my hand.

when i saw the bird again,

i could only stare at her.

she was so small and sodden and fragile

and i did not find it in my heart to kill her.

so i just sat beside her,

watching her shallow breaths,

only to realize they wearn’t breaths at all.

the bird was long dead,

and it was the bugs and grubs

making her chest rise and fall.

i was glad i didn’t have to kill her,

but all i could think about was:

“you cannot kill me in a way that matters”.

#poetry #writing #poem

[ikaros-wrote]

never left

i asked my muse why did she leave me

and she said nothing.

she let me wonder what’s wrong,

she let me feel empty,

but i shouldn’t have been surprised — she always let me feel things,

things that hurt,

and i would hurt her in return with my words.

i asked my muse why did she leave me

and she stirred inside me,

yet still said nothing.

but then,

i caught myself searching for words on rhymezone.com

and i realized she was back.

“never left,” she said.

never there

yet, i always feel like she’s out of my reach.

i get to only touch her,

taste her,

catch her whisper.

i wish i could delve in her waters,

even if it meant i’d drown.

i wish she would wrap around me

and never let me go.

her prison would set me free then.

i asked my muse why does she never leave me,

since she’s barely even there,

since she never gets closer,

avoiding the tips of my fingers.

“because you can’t touch your own reflection,” the mirror said.

#poetry #poem #writing #ok i might be affected my our flag means death #but it doesn’t make it less true #i’ve just been thinking a lot lately #and it hurts my heart i think #anyway #whatever

[ikaros-wrote]

bones II

my bones are hollow.

my eyes dart towards the sky with a longing that weighs my heart down.

my legs shake when i’m high up and i itch to lean further over the edge.

my bones are hollow and i thought it’s because i was meant to be a bird.

i was meant to fly.

i was meant to be free of it all…

my bones are hollow.

melusine whistles inside when i breathe and the flute of my body sings a dull melody.

my bones are hollow and i thought that it’s because i was meant to be a bird but it just means i’m empty.

#writing #poetry #poem #honestly idk what the hell is this #i played with the cocept of hollow bones for a while now and wanted to write a song about it #but music’s been out of my reach recently #i’m glad poetry’s back tho #even though it’s a shitty short poem #it still feels like home.

[ikaros-wrote]

Too much

Sometimes I wonder, how many people was I too much for?

I hate to sound cheesy, but I have an enormous inner world that begs me to let it out and I often do, with stories and poems and songs and art.

And it’s all a cry for kinship.

I write for myself, but I write because I cannot not.

“How do you write every second you’re alive?”

I write because I cannot exist without it. But also, I hope that maybe someday, someone will see what I made and feel at home. Feel understood. Feel not alone.

I don’t crave attention. I don’t crave fame.

All I want is warmth.

And so I wonder, how many hearts went cold after I forced them to burn up?

How many people distanced themselves from me because I would never shut up about the things that seem irrelevant to most?

For me, this plane of existence is somewhat irrelevant. I exist in it but I rather would not. I let myself be consumed by the swirling and spiralling fantasies inside of me to escape the suffering of being alive.

Ha, not to get angsty or anything…

But seriously.

My art tears me right open but holds me together at the same time. I wish to meet someone of the same nature.

#writing #poem #poetry #prose #idk i was just kinda sad and lonely #i really thought spring was here and then it started snowing again and a weird melancholy washed over me

[ikaros-wrote]

bones

i feel like a living corpse,

a walking dead,

a handful of bones

put together by a necromancer.

i feel like i died violently.

i always hoped i would go out with a bang,

but i didn’t think through what would come after.

i never imagined this.

i feel brittle,

fragile,

old.

i made no bargain with death,

but my body still aches

as if it was desparately trying to obey nature,

and finally rest.

i wonder who is it,

who’s keeping me here past due,

whose will am i supposed to submit to.

i hope they let me go, though.

i really hope it’s over soon.

#poem #poetry #writing #it feels like someone put my skeleton in a meat grinder #i am a fan of necromancy #but when i find the person that’s risen me they’ll fucking pay #i just want a calm moment that’s all

[ikaros-wrote]

#poetry #writing #poem #the notes screenshots just hit different don’t they #also visual poetry !!

[ikaros-wrote]

Kyane

I walked where the gods had walked,

a book in hand, a story in mind.

I searched for the remains

of the rape of Persephone

but I’ve been lost for days.

I wandered through Sicily

in an endless pursuit of the goddess

but as Demeter back then,

I found no trace of her.

Eventually, I got lost.

With no food and no water

I plodded through the moors,

only my book giving me company,

and as I read the story again,

I remembered the naiad.

When Hades usurped the goddess of spring,

there was someone who tried to stop him,

a friend and companion of Persephone’s,

a freshwater nymph,

Kyane.

She never managed to stop Hades.

What is a naiad against the will of a god…

Persephone was taken from her

and she never recovered.

She cried and cried until she turned to water herself.

And so I prayed to her,

to the spring she’d become,

to give me water to quell my thirst.

And then, after long days of endeavor

I stumbled upon a well.

With new hope,

I ran towards it.

I delved my hands in the cool water and drank,

but only after several sips I realized

it was salty.

#writing #poem #poetry #i’m such a sucker for greek mythology #and apparently nymphs

[ikaros-wrote]

#4 (part 1)

prompts: bathroom, knife

The faucet never shut all the way.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I was so used to that metronomic sound

that I ceased hearing it.

When it suddenly stopped, I couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong at first,

but I knew something must have been.

The house was silent when I came home.

Absolutely, dreadfully, tranquil.

And then…

Drip.

One single drop broke the silence.

I froze, unable to move out of fear.

Drip.

Another drop fell.

And then I realized.

(I can’t remember when you started to get worse. I didn’t realize something was wrong until it was too late.

And I didn’t realize it was too late until this exact moment.

I watched you wither and fade and I listened to your woe and kissed the tears off your cheeks but nothing was enough.

I promised to be your knight but the monsters just kept coming, feeding on your blood, growing under your skin, so you tried to pry them out yourself.

I didn’t know how to help you.

So one day, I took all the knives in the house and just threw them away.

All but one.

It was a gift from my father and I simply couldn’t get rid of it.

I hid it under the bed and hoped for the best.

I guess hope wasn’t enough.)

I sprinted to the bathroom, switching on the light.

I didn’t scream. No sound left my mouth.

Everything was still so terrifyingly silent, except for those occasional droplets.

Drip.

Drip.

But it wasn’t the faucet.

It wasn’t water.

I saw a hand hanging over the edge of the bath tub. It gripped a reddened blade that I recognized so well, and from the tip, every now and then, a drop of blood fell to the ground.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

#4 (part 2)

(Drip.

Drip.

CLANK!

The knife slipped out of your hand and fell on the tiles with a deafening rattle.

That as if woke me from my trance.

It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t have been.

I promised you once and I was ready to promise again.)

The ambulance wasn’t silent at all but I ignored the sirens and urging voices of the doctors.

All I focused on was your shallow breathing and your unharmed hand, heavy in my own.

But not as heavy as the knife in my pocket.

When we arrived to the hospital, they didn’t let me in the room.

I was to wait outside, counting seconds as the clock-hand ran in circles.

Tik.

Tok.

Tik.

Tok.

It felt like eternity.

(I held you tight in my arms, pressing a towel to your forearm, a calming voice resounding from the cellphone lying beside me.

Your eyes were closed but your chest kept on rising and falling.

I wept silently, tears falling on your bloodied skin.

Drip.

Drip.

Then, all of a sudden, your eyes opened. Only slightly, but just enough for me to know they found mine.

They closed again and a single tear ran down to your chin.

Drip.)

I didn’t realize I was falling asleep until I woke up with a jerk.

A doctor was standing before me, a hand on my shoulder.

They smiled.

When I walked into your room, its brightness overwhelmed me. The lamps were radiant, the walls were white and the sheets were white. Your bandage was white. Clean.

There was no blood.

There was no more blood.

There were no more knives.

There were no more lonely baths.

Only the metronomic sound of machines.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep—

#poem #poetry #writing #writing game #writing prompts #i gave myself depression with this lol #low-key proud of it tho

[ikaros-wrote]

the cathedral

and I wonder

how lonely it gets in big places.

how we compare ourselves

to something ridiculously migty —

the same things we built to be just that —

and how small it makes us feel.

and we build even bigger things,

higher,

high enough to look God in the eyes,

high enough for the fall to kill us.

and i find myself on the balcony,

and i feel small in comparison to the pillars

and the altar before me,

and oh so very lonely.

and i’m not sure if i fear the fall,

or the the urge to just

let go.

i certainly fear the echo

the empty hall answers me with

when i howl into the abyss.

and then i crash

and i’m even smaller

and still so

so lonely.

#poetry #poem #writing

[ikaros-wrote]

i drive down the road

and i hear her whisper in my ear

the cars speed past me in the opposite lane

and i watch myself swerve the steering wheel

i inhale the smoke

and i can feel her grab me by my throat

and i tell her take me

i’m yours

and i swallow the glass

and watch the world turn to ash

as she ties me up

and dances in my lap

and i cannot get enough

she kisses the life off my lips

and my reality crumbles

all that’s left

are her cold fingers around my neck

and i tell her harder

— she is death

#poem #poetry #writing #i wanted it to say harder daddy but i’m weak #yeah anyway #i should stop shipping myself with death lol

[ikaros-wrote]

naked

you watched me undress,

you watched me as vulnerable as i could ever get

and you couldn’t understand why i had forsaken myself.

you watched me examine myself

and i felt your touch under my own hand

and i felt your warmth

but i couldn’t feel your love.

i craved it desperately.

i longed for your approval

but all you gave me was disappointment.

how could i blame you, though,

when i gave nothing back.

i gave you thought but sometimes it was hatred

and mostly it was hurt.

you watched me look into my own eyes in the mirror

and i saw you looking back at me

and there was hurt behind my eyes and there was hurt behind yours

and tears ran down my face but not down yours and you didn’t even wipe mine away and that’s why i hated you sometimes.

you watched me stand before you,

naked skin exposed to your judgement,

and you couldn’t understand why i had forsaken you

and i hated that i had.

#poetry #poem #writing #this kinda reads like some romantic letter #but it’s about god lol #and for some reason when i was writing it i pictured god as a man #maybe that’s one of the reasons i hate god

[ikaros-wrote]

closer

i cannot get closer.

i’m sorry.

you know i’ve tried — perhaps not hard enough.

not enough — that’s how i feel all the time.

i cannot get closer.

i’ve tried and tried, again and again

but it just doesn’t work — with no one, in no time and space.

if only i could do more—

no. i cannot get closer.

i cannot offer you more — any of you.

i wish i could. i wished hundreds of times for hundreds of things.

but this one is by far the most disappointing for not coming true.

i’ve had people searching for something in me.

i was never sure what exactly was it but i always knew i didn’t have it.

i pushed myself further.

i forced myself.

but, then again, i couldn’t get closer.

i’ve been a harbor before.

i’ve been an anchor that kept you grounded and a priest that listened to your worries and a garden that let you grow.

i’ve been helpful.

i’ve been a friend.

but i’ve never let myself get close and i’ve never let anyone get close.

not because of fear.

i simply cannot, just as i cannot break my own arm — something inside just won’t let me.

but sometimes…

there’s this tiny spark inside of me that struggles to burn a little brighter.

and i desperately want to let it shine but it dies out again in a second.

i live for these moments.

when all my walls crumble and i become a vulnerable tiny soft thing.

i also fear them.

i also regret them.

but it’s as close as i can ever get.

so, please, just let me take your hand and sob into your palm if i ever need it.

i know i’m asking a lot and i cannot offer you much intimacy in exchange…

but it’s the only thing i’ve got.

do not pity me, though.

do not comfort me and tell me i will be better or different or closer.

i cannot get closer.

but close enough to hate myself a little and close enough not to hate myself entirely.

#poetry #writing #poem #that was a strange word vomitting sesh #haven’t let myself just write stuff as it came to me in a while #feels weird #not very poetic #just ugly

[ikaros-wrote]

Tears

Happy tears are warm and sweet.

Sad tears are cold and savoury.

Angry tears are hot and bitter and they burn on your tongue and leave scars on your cheeks.

And it’s funny how you let the happy tears flow and dry.

How you wipe the sad tears frantically as you sob into the palms of your hands.

And how you try to hold the angry tears back, how they flood your eyes before they breach the dam and the river breaks loose, washing away all sense of sanity, how you try to swallow it down but you cannot possibly, you cannot douse the candle of hatred — you struggle but you cannot, you cannot.

#poetry #poem #writing

[ikaros-wrote]

rage

how does it feel

to keep a fire

that has the power

to burn cities down

locked inside you?

so much destruction

you could cause

if you could only

point it somewhere

but you know you can’t

‘cause if you did

the world around you

would burst into flames

destroying everything

and everyone

you’ve ever loved

and you’d much rather

let it destroy you

#poetry #writing #poem

[ikaros-wrote]

the statue

her edges were withered

from the rain and the time,

a lonely stone statue

overgrown by grapevine.

her face remained beautiful

but her smile was cracked,

her eyes were dark,

hiding an even darker pact.

there was once a woman

who crossed paths with a witch

and she begged her for a spell

to make her beautiful and rich.

the old witch agreed

under one condition,

she could never love

or be loved again.

the woman did not care.

she was too selfish. too proud.

too blinded by her own light

to see the witch’s evil shroud.

she was turned into a sculpture,

a beautiful one, yes.

surrounded by precious treasure.

oaks. vine. roses. cress.

that was the cost of the spell

and the woman paid for years,

until i found my way

between the trees.

hidden behind a veil of green,

there was a woman made of stone.

yet from her eyes, down her cheeks

two tears ran, all alone.

i tore down the ivy,

tore down the leaves,

uncovered her crooked lips

and gave her a kiss.

suddenly she bloomed with life

and took a deep breath.

i saved her from a cruel fate,

more cruel than death.

she’s fallen into my embrace

like an angel from above.

the spell was broken

with an act of love.

#poetry #poem #writing #jesus another love poem huh #i guess i’m kinda good at them tho ?? #why tho lol

[ikaros-wrote]

pink

the painkillers

cannot heal the heartache.

they only numb my mind

and numb

and numb

and numb

and chip away on my sanity,

over and over,

until I start to disappear

with the wind.

and I take more

and paint my world with pink,

hoping it kills all the pain,

hoping it kills,

hoping,

hoping,

pink.

#poetry #writing #poem #this is when i peaked #honestly probably the best poem i’ve written

[ikaros-wrote]

slowcide

“that shit will kill you” he said and lit another cigarette.

the other man laughed bitterly but said nothing in response, sipping on his drink.

hypocrite, he only thought.

his thoughts then spiralled.

“and if so? what if i want to die?” he suggested.

the first man didn’t laugh. he hated that his friend thought this way but he couldn’t agree more, scattering ash on the floor.

“hypocrite,” the first man said.

the other was confused and gave him a look.

“that’s what you wanted to say, wasn’t it?”

he was right.

they were aware. they both were hypocrites.

so they both kept on killing themselves while worrying for the other.

#poetry #writing #poem