The Conflict Of Guinevere

WARNING!

what if a PROPHET LESBIAN was giving you the SHROOM WILDERNESS equivalent of MKULTRA and you get so HIGH you become a GIRL and another girl but DEAD hijacks your BRAIN and thinks about LESBIAN ACTIVITIES with the LOCAL TERRORIST literally ALL THE TIME

stupid

After all this time, I am still stuck.

I am still listening to your stupid playlist 

with your stupid songs

that only remind me of how stupid i was.

I can’t really remember why I used to think that caring for you was smart.

Was it because you were?

You answered every question,

but you couldn't describe why you wanted me.

Because you never did.  

They are definitely my holy trinity.

Crows

by Mary Oliver

It is January, and there are crows like black flowers on the snow. While I watch, they rise and float toward the frozen pond, they have seen some streak of death on the dark ice. They gather around it and consume everything, the strings and the red music of that nameless body. Then they shout, one hungry, blunt voice echoing another. It begins to rain. Later, it becomes February, and even later, spring returns, a chorus of thousands. They bow, and begin their important music. I recognize the oriole. I recognize the thrush, and the mockingbird. I recognize the business of summer, which is to forge ahead, delicately. So I dip my fingers among the green stems, delicately. I lounge at the edge of the leafing pond, delicately. I scarcely remember the crust of the snow. I scarcely remember the icy dawns and the sun like a lamp without a fuse. I don’t remember the fury of loneliness. I never felt the wind’s drift. I never heard of the struggle between anything and nothing. I never saw the flapping, blood-gulping crows.

cannibalized by my own jealousy

Envy consumes like a starving fire, Devouring all that's in its ire, Ripping apart what's not its own, Gnashing teeth, breaking bone.

Claws reach out to grab and shred, Leaving nothing but crimson red, Territorial in its gruesome feast, Not a scrap left for even the beast.

Digesting every ounce of worth, Leaving only an empty dearth, Jealousy spares no part or limb, Tearing apart even the strongest vim.

A monster within, hungry and vile, Feasting on envy, keeping it on trial, Until it has destroyed all in its path, Leaving just a carcass, in aftermath.

someday 🐞

Art is not my friend right now

I am filled with so much jealousy for other’s art, I am unable to enjoy my own.

Art is not my friend right now.

I can’t come up with anything new. I miss the days where this wasn’t a chore. We aren’t friends right now because I want my art to be something it is not.

Art is not my friend right now. I can’t make my hands create what is in my head.

Art is not my friend right now.

But all I want is for our friendship to return. It may be selfish, I want her to bring me joy. She might be the only one that can. I want to bring her to life, so we can walk hand in hand amongst creation.

Art will be my friend again soon.

“stop traumadumping to your friends tell this to your therapist” my god they paywalled human connection