I Was A Daughter At Some Point In My Mortal Existence

will you turn my brittle body into poetry

when the cold kiss of death finally reaches my solitary corpse

will you interpret the path i skipped along

writing brilliant words of how my spirit dances in the wind

or will i be forgotten?

just to become a feast for the life that lives under the surface

scribbled lines in the once lively flesh

it was never pen ink that cherished me so

if my name has not been lost

and you happen to graze upon my initials in a history book

run to my tombstone

letting it be known that it wasn’t all for nothing

recite to my grave lovely words

soothing my wandering soul

remove my past from the chain around my ankle

let my image seep into the setting sun

allow all that is left of me to be the stanzas of a lifetime

an exhibit of beautiful words bleeding from a lifeless body

permit the future to forget the configuration of my skeletal being

but to devote their time to decipher the words you have strung together to recall my existence

please oh please let me be poetry

- sundayafternoonsedentary

I am pacing back and forth in my apartment, trying to keep from calling you with a fistful of matches. Any friction, and I will start a fire. 

The thought of the pain I may cause stops me nearly every time. Nearly. Deep down, I don’t want to hurt you.  In times like these, I forget that I can plant instead of burn. 

I am restless and cold and in need of a blaze. It has all grown so grey. I don’t care if I burn myself or you, as long as I can be rid of the fog.

Fire is is vibrant and warm and it flickers and flutters like the universe being born– like I am in control of my life for once–

until it dies down.  Then the grey returns with a vengeance, smoke and ash grey and icy and me truly alone in their midst, with nothing under control. 

I am no god. Fire in my hands  only destroys. It only burns. 

I know we have not talked in a while, but please, let me keep my distance until the sun returns and chases away the grey.  Leave me alone until I remember my love for what grows.

i told you i loved the night we spent together

i wish i could have captured the grin you wore

so proud of the terrible things you did to me

how i love that smile

the same lips that grazed my skin not long ago

the same hands that caressed my body

the same hair that I tugged on as i made a show of your acts

it was only an act

all of the good things came to an end

the heavy breathing started

my lungs were collapsing

my heart forgot to beat

it was too busy aching to love you

wishing to be more than just a body

I want to be small

 to be able to fold my body into itself

To hug my own essence within gangly limbs

I want to embody my own soul and display its fragile state

I have spent much time knowing I am too much for this life

I want the bone chilling matter of being insignificant 

It’d be nice to feel small for a change

I'm not afraid of death

I am afraid of the minutes before it

When my bed of steel nails

Grow into roses

If petals could talk

They would whisper in pity

By their words, I'll bloody up my hands

With the wounds the size of torn rags

And I'll tear away the civilization I made

Count every grain falling through an hour glass

Till goodbyes erode away

Mountains stand short

Bring forth my old rivers

Drain them of glory

Count every grain falling through an hour glass

Till molten corpses fall from the sky

Bells A-ringing in chaotic serenity

Doves turn to face the weeping nights

To wish my old constellations goodbye

By their words, I'll bloody up my hands

Throw away my world, let it leave my grasp

If the petals could talk

They would whisper in pity

By their words I'll wash up my hands

Lay in my lush foggy blankets

Till my eyes flutter shut

And peppered kisses, end at the hands of my crumbling world

Divide my soul and body with bleach

I'll drink it until my body is pure and free

From sins I committed at their word

following a prophecy and commiting a sin,

is how religion is born, with its birth

Comes timed demise

I'm not afraid of death

I am afraid of the minutes before it

When cold blooded sins turn dove like, gentle

If petals could talk

They would whisper in pity,

"What a fool she was, to follow a prophecy to create belief. What a fool she was, to burn dynasties for their words. What a fool she was, what a fool she was"

(Repent for your sins to make those after you believe in rules, repent for your sins to turn unity into society, Repent for your sins to look at your hands to see the monster you've become, repent for your sins, repent for your sins)

i really wish i hadn’t charmed my therapist

maybe i wouldn’t be sitting in the position if i had

i wanted her approval just as much as anyone else’s

so i lied and cried at the right parts

reeling her in until-

snatch.

“this is not your fault”

but you see sarah,

it is.

all of it is.

but if i reveal my tactic of manipulation

my whole facade will come crumbling down

and you’ll begin to realize that i am not the victim of my own story

i’ve been pulling the right strings and moving the right pawns

but again, here i am

wishing i didn’t have to lie to you

because right now. i need you.

-sundayafternoonsedentary

“i have a problem with letting go of things with clenching my hands like a vice and holding on despite everything it’s why i keep all my memories with me carry them in my phone, on my walls in the little box inside my closet even though it’ll always remain closed i have a hard time letting go of people, of memories that no longer ring true i clutch them like i’d be bereft without them the conversations with people i don’t speak to anymore the photos i want to pull down from my walls the memories i no longer want to recall i never allow myself to mourn i hoard them and keep them close and i just can’t seem to let go.”

— i no longer want to meet new people because i’m afraid one day all they’ll ever be are memories i want to revisit, redo, ones that i want to stay in forever and would forever regret. memories that i would never let go of, but memories, nevertheless | wt.

was i created to lie here forever?

molded into a cancerous being

rotting from the inside out

i have been running from existence for so long

only to find out that i will never be able to escape my predetermined demise

so i will remain here

letting a once lovely creation rot

-sundayafternoonsedentary

i’ve witnessed the cavities slither their way into his brain

etching out the desire to get out of bed

rotting teeth were never so beautifully maddening

the poor man didn’t stand a chance against the decay in his mouth

-sundayafternoonsedentary

well, that's one way to test how you feel about someone:

drive them away and see if it hurts.

if it feels like your heart is imploding,

maybe you really did love them.

but then - my heart has a habit of tricking me,

of conspiring with my sense of lust

knowing I won't spot the difference for a while.

but are they so different, really? am I really that blind?

it was easier to sleep amidst clouds of smoke

that carried any potential dreams far away.

if I dream now, what will I see?

I don't think I want to know...

not yet.

I keep my eyes open and listen

to the soft rain tapping on my window

reminding me the world hasn't stopped at all, really.