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whoreshippingbooks · 12 days

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I want nothing. I want nothing. I want nothing while i go and grope on the memory, but i scream that i don't want to make a home. Shame should crawl underneath my skin, shouldn't it? It doesn't. I do that alchemy to myself

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

#poets on tumblr #text post #poetry #dark acamedia #literature #modern literature #poem #quotes #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #a wolf talk with me

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whoreshippingbooks · 19 days

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what should i do? shall i cut your three fingers or use the lying fork to eat the clementine? i was mixing pickles along with my indian gradmother, she tells me you never know taste of the food you make from your own mouth, let spark in eyes of others tell you the story. inside a gothic fiction I'm sitting on my husband's lap, his eyes gone bleak, same color tastes same, so i poke my fingers in his eyes/ i was sure pickle was made well when his eyes bled.

hunger

/ˈhʌŋɡə/

noun

• a feeling of dangerous ulterior motive. "I tell you, hunger is not a political joke"

you must be terrified of one's hunger. i have heard wolfspiders eat their own babies, because i know a poor mother shall chop her organs if her kid asked what is for dinner. my heart sweetie, my heart/ so shall she serve it on the plate and push it towards you. a boy i liked learned his first word as love and the very next word he spelled was desire and so when he learnt the third word he stopped. he had a picture book in his hand, a knife drawn along every sharp object existed. every lover of mine left one finger or toe before they leave, and i'm sick of refrigerator that looks like some experimental laboratory having preservatives of body parts and i'm sick of having one or two fingers pressed against my bread with spilling mustard sauce for breakfast just because i cannot afford a full liver because no one has found me worthy enough to have left a complete organ behind, it is always one finger or a toe. because brutality can taste of sugar when you are in wrong love, the heros in me are the villains about me. you should know the generations of howling, the generations of abandonment, the generations of grief i had to pet, made god cry.

once again inside of a gothic fiction, i am a taurus so my upbringing is to be a labour of rage and shame, my husband should be a leo for he has wolfsbane spine bone. our bedroom is slaughter corner of the house, him and i look in the Mirror of Erised, he licks my neck i feel a graze of bullet on my skin he continues, for years now i grew icicles from scalp instead of hair it scraped his clavicle. i sniff like shark does to blood, like a goldfish has been wounded a mile ago in ocean. like i can smell food. like i have to kill. like i have been hungry all my life.

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— muffinsincoffin, "once again inside of a gothic fiction"

#text post #poets on tumblr #muffinsincoffin #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #dark academia #my poem #my poetry #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled ink #writing #writeblr #my writing

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whoreshippingbooks · 30 days

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blessing you say, and it is curse along with blessing i tell you. the constitution of nature is that you have to pay greater prices for greater things you have borrowed.

I'm a poet. I am a human of all kinds in one body. I am the saint, and i am the sinner. I am the love, and i am the hate. I, who is the human who prays to god, also am the human who curses at him. For what i wear so many skins upon my own, i am paying the greater price of all others.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

#artists on tumblr #text post #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #my poetry #original poem #spilled poetry #spilled ink #spilled words #a wolf talk with me

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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psychopath criminals want to be noticed and praised for crimes they do in a fancy way. we women fallen in wrong love are like psychopaths— wanting to show it is not wrong. we go spilling blood near the mouth of the shark, huh what? what else, you die.

I'm meaning to say for the fourth time you scribble i love you dad and scratch. you go doing this again. he barge in the house, his tie's wrecked. he lits a cigarette. hastily breathing in and out because his favorite cricket team is losing. you cough. second-hand smoking is equally killing you. you don't know to say i love you running into his arms, so you'll die with him. it's been days now, he gets confused for your hands for ashtray and press cigarettes on them. this is the way, this is the way, this is the only way you know to say you love him. but girls who grow fangs over wisdom teeth, will ever be able to love their fathers?

you don't know how not to become the people you once beloved, you never knew. once your English professor said, "you are born in the family who doesn't know when to love". give me your hand your father said, you hid them back. your mother chopped and gave him hers, he take them along. you ask me isn't it that, she don't know how to love?. darling, what is love?. we jump in fire to warm each other and i go numb.

you saw a pretty boy, you wanted to date him. he had brown eyes. actually he had light-honey colored. just then you realized you ripped his chest and taking his heart on my plate. when did predators ever learnt romance? you was a beast with white collar and bloody hands under gloves. i sit the knife and fork in a plus on the plate, "you were ready for your next meal". didn't i say women in wrong love are psychopaths.

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— muffinsincoffin, "Psychopath criminals"

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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i want you to kiss me brutal, i know you tried to tell me that story about scars and forgiveness, but that kiss was too warm, too soft, and too much of love. now Love, kiss me with brutality let me taste my blood and yours in my mouth for it has hold swarm of bees for longer than it should now let me know how a sword against sword would feel, cut me with your tongue let me believe i can end a war just by kissing you. i know, i know i love the madness, the trouble, the mess, but oh lord; i opened my mouth to take you whole, i expand to make your illiterate skin fit inside my educated throat.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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he scared me, she wrote. like everyone who walked through the lane which had my house and it stood straight with pride even with it's windows cracked and the door made up of naked lethargy; he could see it like everyone, he scared me.

my mother, she wrote. My mother says there is a word love and there will be a word hate and you will grow to learn the word rage. when daughters of failed fathers learn about rage those are ought to love and name it forbidden. You will either love like you could die or shudder with rage as if you are on a hunt. Daughters are just primal creatures with uninvented souls.

he scared me, she wrote. he scared me when he asked if i had ever written about him. i have bit god to have him stitched on the roof of my mouth. For the fifth time this mouth of mine says his name. I call it a sin, it's a sin. isn't it a sin?, then why don't i shake tremendously?. I came with locks on me, yet he walked closer with caressing hands when he could have demanded for the keys, he rose with patience against my disgusting woe, and still, you ask me why do i keep appearing at his door?

for love,

for love.

my father, she wrote. he told love is a jewel in my throat, it will slit me open. he said haunting resides in my teeth and i keep all the beautiful things in my mouth, just like him i will swallow the one i would love.

he does not scare me, she wrote. when he once scared me, i wanted to reach a verdict, oh lord. Oh lord i thought that one day i will wake up from the dizzy and every house ever built is made up of wax. he does not scare me, because one day i will wake up and applause of blood and flesh will pin me by the throat against the wax monuments and just like before you shall ask me why do i run to his home?. Oh lord, because he will hold me, even if my match shall strike against his, we will burn into one home. Oh lord, i have never met any poet who said i love you. She wrote and the world learnt.

— muffinsincoffin, "I have never met any poet who said i love you" excerpt from Twenty-two nudes of my remodeled house

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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write about romance, sweetheart.

what is romance?

Romance is the threat to cannibalism. i have heard the very first poem ever written had a womb instead of a heart, and it birthed to hunger. Hunger one day fell in love but falling in love doesn't mean you forget your roots, one evening hunger was feasting on his love.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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oh honey, that is love. this is how i love, i will wake you up from your grave just to cradle you back to sleep.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

#text post #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #original poem #my poetry #romantic academia #romanticism #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled ink #txt post #love poem

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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he said, everytime i shape my cotton candy in a flower it keeps shape-shifting into one of your intestine and i chew on it, everytime. I have a cannibalistic motive and i am not going to make you a simple victim because assassination was our foreplay

What happens when in a family of sheeps the wolf is born?. this is when hunger grows hands, i bear you in my belly— such women feeds on the suns and has a crooked digestive system. but honey, in this tradition of on being on the edge of madness, having one toe against the knife is like ribbon of fiendish waiting to be cut, to only be welcomed by lavish exposure of perishment.

this boy i knew in sixth grade, his father was a butcher when he slaughtered lamb he begin with taking off her eyeballs.

was it mercy to not let her see how her organs are being prepared for the trade?

or was it shame he saved himself from, did her eyes made him count his own sins? weight of lives he is carrying.

or perhaps it was guilt?

later when i was twenty-one and boy i knew in sixth grade is now a butcher, this boy too, butchered lamb's eyeballs first like his father but he turned them around, perhaps not all son's become their fathers they become their father's revelation.

oh honey said the boy, because assassination was our foreplay. when your rookie sword will turn up against my butcher knife mine will already have your blood. i think when son's inherit father's violence they don't inherit their vulnerabilities.

because assassination was our foreplay, who is eating who?. in this story if i am writing the epilogue why are you the wolf and i look like a sheep?. Why am i haunted and you the haunting?.

— because assassination was our foreplay, he said.

— muffinsincoffin, "assassination was our foreplay"

#assassination was our foreplay #text post #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #modern literature #literature #poem #literary #lit #my poetry #poets corner #original poem #my poem #romanticism

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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i didn't have hands. I remember my mother telling me. but he asked, "Can we hold hands?", so i fabricated them. i grew hands, i built them because he wanted to hold even when he was the sun, and i would burn down like before. i still let him hold my hand. I would build another pair if he wants to hold them again and let them get burned, too.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

#a wolf talk with me #text post #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #txt post #text poetry #text poem #my poem #my poetry #my writing #original poem

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whoreshippingbooks · 1 month

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i suppose my heart had blunt corners. Is that why you always told me mother?, to sharpen the corners because sharp knife may cut your finger but you can always slice necks with them.

— muffinsincoffin, "Sharpen"

#text post #dark acamedia #poets on tumblr #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #txt post #quotes #dark academia

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whoreshippingbooks · 2 months

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i brought apocalypse along, i said to him. i don't want to scar in public, i again said to him. i outgrow nails deliberately, i let him know.

I will put your demons to sleep. I know there's a knife under your pillow. I know, i know it all. Take my hand hold it, we can grow plants together on the grounds after apocalypse.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me"

#a wolf talk with me #text post #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #modern literature #literature #poem

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whoreshippingbooks · 2 months

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i was a wolf yesterday and i will become a bear today just like he was sheep yesterday and i will make him my deer today. I know to love in a way i will have his finger between my teeth, he has been gasping for air since he met me.

— muffinsincoffin, "A wolf talk with me"

#a wolf talk with me #text post #dark acamedia #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #dark acadamia aesthetic #literature #modern literature #poem #dark academia

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whoreshippingbooks · 3 months

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I came with locks on me, yet he walked closer with caressing hands when he could have demanded for the keys, but he rose with patience over my disgusting woe, and still, you ask me why do i keep appearing at his door?

For love,

For love.

— muffinsincoffin, "a wolf talk with me".

#a wolf talk with me #text post #dark acamedia #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #woman #love quotes #dark academia #my poetry #love poem #spilled words #spilled poetry #spilled ink #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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whoreshippingbooks · 3 months

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Aapse agar aapko maanga nahin, toh yeh matlab toh nahin na ki aapko chaha nahin.

#text poetry #hindi poetry #hindi poem #txt post #desi writers #desi tag #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi academia #kavita #text post #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #spilled poetry

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whoreshippingbooks · 4 months

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Men in love knows the shape of your mouth so they shape theirs to fit yours.

— muffinsincoffon, "a wolf talk with me"

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whoreshippingbooks · 4 months

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i knew there are many parallel universes, i talked to him about just few now i believe there are only two.

In the first one, he is alive- breathing- no dead eyes- no flowers on his tomb- no mourners for him-

in the last one, i don't let him die.

— him, muffinsincoffin

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