can yall proofread a poem i wrote for my friend as a christmas present <3
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his handprint may be burned into your skin but it's still the gentlest touch you've ever received.
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“i could fix him”, “i could make him worse”. yeah, well,
I could meet him at the genesis of the universe, where the spaces between matter first gain sentience, and spark and spit their way into being—where the cradle of stars first take on a definitive kind of gravity and heat. I could be the engineer of creation.
I could ask a question.
I could stand across from him on a battlefield, trembling and reeking of ichor. I could hit the ground retching, all the bones in my body turning brackish and oil-slicked. I could lurch my way into a new world, a recalibration of reality in which I only know kindness as a set of snapping jaws, as a thing to flinch away from.
I could meet him in the garden, then, when the air's all hyacinth and dripping gold. And I could ache. Oh, how I could ache.
I could follow him through every wretched moment of history. I could trail after him like a hollow-eyed dog. I could hide my irises, could hide the brutal bloodiness of an all-too-human heart. I could hold the gun as I pretend not to pray, as I taste bile and will my hands to steadiness. I could trust him. And I could ache.
I could bite my tongue, cypher the words in my mouth, gnash them between jagged teeth. I could swallow my heart. I could go slower.
I could meet him at the end of the world, when hope claws its way up my throat, hungry and keening like a treacherous thing.
I could kiss him with six thousand years of want lodged and breaking in the mausoleum of my chest. I could hand him the blade; I could let him twist the knife.
I could be forgiven.
And still I could ache.
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i broke so here's from crowley to his angel
I danced through all the fires, and I was so free
I was so unfettered, I was so unheld
Angel, I only stumble when you look at me
Why won't you touch me with more than eyes
Do more with your lips than just smile
It's only for you that I would ever plead
Angel, don't ask me to follow you to heaven
I don't need your forgiveness, I need your love
I don't need them to save me from damnation
Because when I fell from heaven I fell for you
And if you'll just for once try to understand
You've tempted the tempter and stolen the thief
So when after thousands of years I find the courage
To reach for you, to hold you to my dark heart
Forget the world that came between you and me
Don't choose to save it, choose to save us
The world will end in fire or ice, heaven or hell
But all that will matter is that we could have been us
So when they ask you to leave for heaven
Don't walk away, promise you're staying with me
Angel, tell me you said no
-Asmi
@neil-gaiman expecting that therapy money any day now, sir.
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your phone is still saved in my car's bluetooth memory and my phone still has nick's speakers system saved and every time i switch my pillowcases i do it the way regina taught dominic who taught me how to do it too.
i still flinch because of how [ ] hurt me yeah but a few weeks ago alex and i sat on their floor and talked about how i am able to touch the people i love now, when four years ago i couldn't stand any human contact at all, horrified by the way it made my skin crawl
i didn't remember about the trip we took once up into the rivers and mountains, how you'd been there too, wading deep in the water, how i gave you a rock after. i was scrolling in my instagram history trying to find something else completely and then all the sun of the day came back, how you and me and crisco and maddie all howled songs in the car the whole ride home, my foot to the floorboards, absolutely speeding. i take a lot of pictures because my brain barely holds my own name (it's like the scene in spongebob all the time up there, i tell ziara, because i talk on the phone now, a lot, the way you taught me to enjoy) and the pictures are really good because they're filled with my friends and my activities and the light in my life and the pictures are also really bad because sometimes i am reminded that i used to be horribly in love with you, the kind of love that blots out the sun and moon, no matter how many times other people said she's not good for you
so i go through my memories carefully like stepping through a blackberry bush because i don't know if im embarrassed or hurt but it doesn't feel good and my spotify still has the playlist saved from your birthday party like four years ago and google maps still remembers alison's old address on melrose street even though she moved like forever ago and in my notes app i have like 106 non sequiturs i can no longer parse but they must have been important enough to write down so i don't delete them just-in-case their meanings reveal themselves like fog parting over the bluegreen hills
the birds are singing and i know how to identify a robin because of edie and i know how to make a souffle set properly because molly showed me, her hair untangling from her high bun, gentle and pretty; and i know how to bake because my mama taught me and i had forgotten i wrote you a love poem but then onedrive says today in your memories
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Muriel Rukeyser, “Waking This Morning”
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i was thinking about this line from my fic:
But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys.
and i came up with this. i hope the vision came through
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There is a poem about having a threesome with a couple that are so in love that their care for eachother spills over and onto you. I'm pretty sure I remember seeing you reblog it, I was wondering if you know what it's name is? feeling insane about it etc.
It's called After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home by Sue Hyon Bae and it makes me UNWELL here's a copy for you
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life is cruel and painful but it is mine. i built it bleeding raw and starving, full of spite and sheer determination
i walked out of hell, i cried while dragging myself out of hell, i climbed out of hell with my bitten down nails sinking into the edges
and it wasn't so i could let another person cut me off at my knees, blunt machete in hand while i watch quietly
i am young starving and have nothing to lose. i will not stop until i get what i deserve
written 25/1/22
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you told me there was this way of exploring our own memories that was "over-distanced" - the idea that we can learn to stand so far away from our lives that it cannot hurt us. the problems shrink when they are so far away. we can keep our souls tethered at the end of a long leash, holding them above where the sharp things can reach.
i said - oh, i always just say "that thing is too hot to touch right now." my life like learning to stand as far from the fire as possible. my life like watching the pot boil over. my life, a little scattered. the air up here is so thin; it is almost froth. it's a little sad trade off - down there is joy, i know. but that is also where sorrow stalks.
don't i want to be happy? don't i want to be whole?
on the phone, i heard your breath catch a moment. for a horrible, terrible instant, i thought you were going to notice the truth of it: that i haven't been on this earth in a while. if this is all happening to me, i've felt exactly none of it.
oh, my beautiful life is changing again. oh, my one beautiful life. the way it turns in the wind; wild and frantic - so funny, at this angle, at this distance: it kind of looks like a fevered & caught animal, doesn't it?
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original poem
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