reminding me of where my blood sprung from.
to eat cats' tongues. to eat tree bark, but not a tree's dry veins. peeled off. i am peeled off of the pavement where i melted in the coal mines' sun. a daughter of dry coughs and hidden colours, i swim like an owl through silence through streets. worn down.
to drink the light of the bus' front lights broken at rain. to drink water from the tap in the kitchen. endless fountain of harsh joy. hard work.
heart blood.
it whispers; pour your worries
into the fire and nurture
there are secrets in the velvet
of the burns on fingertips
you forgot, oh you forgot
how she stroked your hair back when
night sings sad songs, your breath
in tune to oblivion – this we are
never known, we are
never known, silent, like the dance of the flames.
ancient, naive, still half-holy by toffeesmile, literature
Literature
ancient, naive, still half-holy
unaccustomed
to my own name i sleep
on the highest branches
to be reached only
by subtle sounds of dreams
bring empty hands, lay redolence
before my knees;
i know naught of the prayers
but i will pray with you
to specks of dawn
floating in forgotten nights
this is falling asleep to birdsong,
back home,
raining
noises in the backyard. you
are falling
asleep, falling into
warm summer days and light
grey summer
nights - they leave behind a smell of suntan and red wine.
a crime against the cosmic order:
to put all cups on the kitchen shelves
wrong side up.
your gods cry.
we burn at the stake and drown
in city lights, the bright dead noises
and i...
i put honey into my tea in my head
(but i find no real sweetness at my hands)
we will become silhouettes
slowly, first,
like candle wax melting:
you lose the colour in your memories.
my sunflower rainboots
become dust,
stuck in my hair, dust.
the room lies in silence.
behind my ears, i kept a bit of melancholy
but i lost it yesterday.
the winds smoothed out that edge
to your smile that was like the beard of a key,
fitting just right.
we were solid ground.
"forever". now,
the room lies in silence.
we were warm skin, once.
tomorrow, as the day comes up,
we will be left as merely silhouettes.
half-forgotten
you are insane, dear
and that is just as right
as the light coming from the trees
and the fire we all bathe in,
burning away
mortality like the sun of egypt.
rivers have made your eyes
(like mine),
so if you put them in a box on the water, it won't sink.
send messages out to the world,
your dead voice, your false fate,
to watch the way we tumble
down there into the valleys.
fate is found at the bottom of worlds;
truth is wrapped around the core.
you are mad, my love,
(like the badger or the kettle)
but it takes none away
of the ways you are bound to the earth.
spreading too much perfume scent
and a familiar song to clean
this home, this room with no strange corner.
here
is my dust bunny park,
is my hole in the fake-wood floor.
take this melody and a drop of ink like it's yours.
give me your heart and i'll
return it in a violet giftbag.
i can't find much sense in keeping
books in bookshaped boxes anymore,
but then what is what is what is...
will you take me to the oceanside
without moving my feet?
morning, there is
a trace of pink left on the rim of the tea cup on the coffee table(
a perfect stain of your grief), and we're all glass.
see these ghosts? all are haunting themselves, leaving me
to sit on the staircase emptyheaded;
i do not have the death i wish for where i have
a seat next to me and a pearl.
i don't fear the water. used to know
a lady, back arched,
who was seaweed at the coast, so we
we'd never fear water.
just untangle my shoelaces,
my favourite star isn't far from here in the map in my palm.
it was a simple cup, coloured lipstick and black tea, a tonight shattered cup.
i'm making a wreath out of the shards,
to wear you
hands aching for a never,
i eat chocolate sprinkles on my bread,
thinking it should rain,
just thinking
of the netherlands and applegreen earrings.
i am a blue robin, i am
balancing over the twigs just out
the window with my eyes, my face
pressed against the cool (i am forgiving),
with hands aching.
reminding me of where my blood sprung from.
to eat cats' tongues. to eat tree bark, but not a tree's dry veins. peeled off. i am peeled off of the pavement where i melted in the coal mines' sun. a daughter of dry coughs and hidden colours, i swim like an owl through silence through streets. worn down.
to drink the light of the bus' front lights broken at rain. to drink water from the tap in the kitchen. endless fountain of harsh joy. hard work.
heart blood.
it whispers; pour your worries
into the fire and nurture
there are secrets in the velvet
of the burns on fingertips
you forgot, oh you forgot
how she stroked your hair back when
night sings sad songs, your breath
in tune to oblivion – this we are
never known, we are
never known, silent, like the dance of the flames.
ancient, naive, still half-holy by toffeesmile, literature
Literature
ancient, naive, still half-holy
unaccustomed
to my own name i sleep
on the highest branches
to be reached only
by subtle sounds of dreams
bring empty hands, lay redolence
before my knees;
i know naught of the prayers
but i will pray with you
to specks of dawn
floating in forgotten nights
this is falling asleep to birdsong,
back home,
raining
noises in the backyard. you
are falling
asleep, falling into
warm summer days and light
grey summer
nights - they leave behind a smell of suntan and red wine.
a crime against the cosmic order:
to put all cups on the kitchen shelves
wrong side up.
your gods cry.
we burn at the stake and drown
in city lights, the bright dead noises
and i...
i put honey into my tea in my head
(but i find no real sweetness at my hands)
we will become silhouettes
slowly, first,
like candle wax melting:
you lose the colour in your memories.
my sunflower rainboots
become dust,
stuck in my hair, dust.
the room lies in silence.
behind my ears, i kept a bit of melancholy
but i lost it yesterday.
the winds smoothed out that edge
to your smile that was like the beard of a key,
fitting just right.
we were solid ground.
"forever". now,
the room lies in silence.
we were warm skin, once.
tomorrow, as the day comes up,
we will be left as merely silhouettes.
half-forgotten
you are insane, dear
and that is just as right
as the light coming from the trees
and the fire we all bathe in,
burning away
mortality like the sun of egypt.
rivers have made your eyes
(like mine),
so if you put them in a box on the water, it won't sink.
send messages out to the world,
your dead voice, your false fate,
to watch the way we tumble
down there into the valleys.
fate is found at the bottom of worlds;
truth is wrapped around the core.
you are mad, my love,
(like the badger or the kettle)
but it takes none away
of the ways you are bound to the earth.
spreading too much perfume scent
and a familiar song to clean
this home, this room with no strange corner.
here
is my dust bunny park,
is my hole in the fake-wood floor.
take this melody and a drop of ink like it's yours.
give me your heart and i'll
return it in a violet giftbag.
i can't find much sense in keeping
books in bookshaped boxes anymore,
but then what is what is what is...
will you take me to the oceanside
without moving my feet?
morning, there is
a trace of pink left on the rim of the tea cup on the coffee table(
a perfect stain of your grief), and we're all glass.
see these ghosts? all are haunting themselves, leaving me
to sit on the staircase emptyheaded;
i do not have the death i wish for where i have
a seat next to me and a pearl.
i don't fear the water. used to know
a lady, back arched,
who was seaweed at the coast, so we
we'd never fear water.
just untangle my shoelaces,
my favourite star isn't far from here in the map in my palm.
it was a simple cup, coloured lipstick and black tea, a tonight shattered cup.
i'm making a wreath out of the shards,
to wear you
hands aching for a never,
i eat chocolate sprinkles on my bread,
thinking it should rain,
just thinking
of the netherlands and applegreen earrings.
i am a blue robin, i am
balancing over the twigs just out
the window with my eyes, my face
pressed against the cool (i am forgiving),
with hands aching.
when i wake up
i want to be in the middle of a busy sidewalk
and i want to jump up
and follow the crowd
across crosswalks and through the lines
of traffic and trails and lives
and i want them to lead me
upstairs, red velvet
gliding me ever forward
and upward to the balcony
and i want it to be golden
and i want to be golden
and when you leave,
i want to be on a stage
of polished obsidian,
attached to strings and moving
in time to their tugs and shifts
and knowing i can never fall
and when i fall
asleep, i want to be
in the middle of a busy sidewalk
waiting to be taken
from the crowds and diamond eyes
and myself, still made of gold
and stil
for the thousandth time
the hurricanes shake
& break the leaves from my branches
scattered into your yard
in august
i find rest
it's funny how often
the westerly winds blow back to you
a sunrise so unwelcome
& such a relief
restart
for the millionth time
the floods drown me
& down i drift into the deep
but you're a storm
and i am temporary;
you are the everchanging
& cyclic tides against my shores
and no one will teach me how to swim
restart
for the billionth time
the moon comes out.
i do not glow in the dark
but i can see
and as i watch the endless storms
meandering their way to my mind
my leaves shake
& my lungs fill with water
a
-this, where the sun dives into the other
world, is where they made their
enclave-promise; and she
bowed
low
into the ground, her sugar-
melt skeleton, glowing only
for a moment, decomposing
before his eyes, twisted.
shivering, into a memoir calamity-
no one
will value
your rote
dimensions
your worlds
will autumn
in all who
observe
sow your wars
mute as the
day of your
death
and dismay
at the verve
of the earth
never hesitate to send a random hello my way, or just start talking about anything you want to tell ^^
about me: just a dreamer, dancing up in the clouds with my thoughts. my hands are small, my mind is vast. i like eating the dark, almost black cherries, never the red ones. one day, i'd just like to own a typewriter. i get lost easily in books, and i love to sniff at the pages. one of my favourite things i own is my porcelain teapot. apple tea is my life.
please don't hesitate to recommend pieces or ask me to read something from you.
requests are always open ask for collabs
Favourite Movies
phantom of the opera, let me in, the illusionist
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
vanessa carlton, secondhand serenade, paramore, the fray
Favourite Books
the name of the wind, pride and prejudice, the dark tower saga
Tools of the Trade
a mosaic heart and a puzzle box mind and too many notebooks