GravediggingWe drove past misshapen pumpkins, some crowning lampposts, some fusing with the grass, vicious carved grins hanging without words. You called me an automaton and I spent the next three miles rolling the word around on my tongue. Mechanically. You pulled over to rid yourself of loose items in the trunk and I stepped out and closed the passenger door with a vague sense ofGravedigging
finality. You didn’t seem to realize when I was
standing in your rearview that the car had become more spacious, so I spent the rest of the day walking through a silent gravey
Persephone's FollyStifling stench, swallowed in this sea of rot. You have dragged me down with you; so careless in your abduction, and careless I’ve been in my defenses. I am a fool; I ate that pomegranate three times over, and three months I will suffer in your god- hell, confined to lonely winters as SpringPersephone's Folly
implodes beyond. And they did not grab my heels, drag me back to the surface as you
have dragged. I cannot eschew blame, not now, because I begged for this fate, begged to be
broken, begged to feel hard claws on white skin— I grow only w
Scrub ScrubDead eyes (panes of glass) and pains of glass along my inner thighs; glass cu ts deep, but you’ve gone deeper. And copper bloodScrub Scrub
stains the tiles but you’re all out of cleaner.
Or so you say.
And I say forgive me
father Father FATHER for I have sinned— I know not how but I’ve been
on my knees before you implore you to purge this Pane/pain, but the only purging I can claim
my own is the wash of your scent over me. my thighs. my blood.
And this tide runs in.out.in.out—
Do NotYou look but you do not look, for I live in a colony of Lepers. Boils and scars and festering wounds; I’m covered in gauze and you’re tossing two-day-old bread through the bars. I swallow ravenously.Do Not
I see your disgust and I raise you self-hatred, but we’re playing an unequal match— you’ve gotten the heavier end of the seesaw and the splinters sink deeper and deeper in. I am elevated and I am not elevated. Not One Bit.
And I’d like to destroy your image, tear this false idol down, but I have never been under your dominion
NaNoWriMo
Excited
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"The Truth doesn't always set you free; people prefer prettier, neatly wrapped lies"
-Keeping Faith, by Jodi Picoult
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"The Truth doesn't always set you free; people prefer prettier, neatly wrapped lies"
-Keeping Faith, by Jodi Picoult
--
the King of Angst
I hope to see more
--
Also known as Lady Wren (My drawings are still signed RN, though XD)
Write not for the audience, but for yourself. Why? Because nothing is worse than writing a book you will never be proud of.
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This sucks
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Fuck this, im leaving, tell them i waited.
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