i feel so old sometimes. like i've lived serveral lifetimes.
and sometimes i feel so young,
but its been 6 weeks clean. of everything.
and i'm not sure how i feel.
fucking tired, or learning to grow things out.she said 'life has always been an uphill battlefucking tired, or learning to grow things out. by arabesque-o
and i'm so fucking tired'
the sun fell over the mountains again
as she took scissors to her hair and clippers to her nails
as if cutting everything off
could somehow pull her life back under her skin.
i watch with my mouth full of silence as her blue hair threads the grass.
my thoughts chew in my head
and we breathe like an orchestra.
tomorrow, i will wear my clothes inside out and paint my nails black
you will drink black coffee and glue earbuds to the inside of your ears
we both grieve in different ways.
did it ever occur to you, love
that maybe i'm really fucking tired too
so in an effort to keep up
i shave half of my head and bite off my stubby fingernails
i move 5 hours
but then visit the next day
just to watch my life from the outside
see, nothing changes.
you're still cutting things off
but i'm learning to grow things out
like my insecurities
like the pain on my insides
or the hair on my head
i already have too many scars in
on learning to keep your head up.sometimes we grow up with lips sealed like tombs.on learning to keep your head up. by arabesque-o
we are taught from an early age
how to pack the big heavy things in life
away in the glove compartment of our heads.
self hate is taught in every ad
insecurity in the halls of schools
we are taught how and who to love.
we read into our parents and grandparents habits,
generations making and recreating the same mistakes.
see, sometimes life is just old patterns
we keep replaying until someone finally says
No. No More.
what if we said no more every day?
what if we actually stepped out of our cycles
and let our fears drown in the sound of our outstretched
hands taking life by the throat?
i'm not looking to get out of life without scars
i want to live so hard the earth won't be able to hold me here
when its time to shut the door
i don't want to die at 81 while walking the dogs in the same town
my mother grew up in.
i don't want to watch my dreams turn stale
until the horizons begin suffocate us.
i never want my fea
last night.last night when you couldn't standlast night. by arabesque-o
when your head became a tilt-a-whirl and
you needed me to be your stability.
when for just a short while, i was your gravity
i realized i still wanted to be that to you.
i still wanted to be your wheelchair when we got old-
i still wanted to get old with you-
i still wanted you.
my inability to stay
is a knife my mind can't stop tying knots around.
seeing her again reminds me of how selfish i really am.
surviving after her means trying to forget what i did to her.
surviving right now means trying not to think about anything at all.
some memories will burn you
if you open them back up too soon.
i am a continent drifting apart,
i can't hold on to the pieces of me
but i know how to not show it.
seeing her again was like something i've never know before;
like broken bones and natural disasters
like trying to breath under water or
lungs like twin towers failing.
it was like a gut punch you won't recover from quickly.
she was thin as my
breakup poem. it took me so long to admit to myself andbreakup poem. by arabesque-o
that you can love someone and
still not be meant for each other.
but leaving her is like dropping a piano on your toe,
you did it
but you never expected it-
to hurt so much
you never expected the supernova in your chest when
you find her toothbrush in your bathroom and
you never meant to
19 years young. still learning to fly. photographer. professional ballet dancer. sometime writer. committed reader.
queer and radical jesus-person. yes those two can go together. i enjoy longboarding, spoken word, and morals.
no, i'm not confused, i am just continually finding myself.
why i'm here: to make art and watch amazing artists.