The Faces On Cardboard Stand So Still, So Stubborn;

SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE ASK I REALISED I FORGOT TO ASK TO BE IN UR TAGLIST LMAO 😫

omg thanks so much!!!! u r added!! <33333

transcript:

summer’s shadowless exit wounds

august is shifting its entry wounds to october’s doors and the lines of your palms are telling you the number of summers you have spent in your shadow./ the essence of your mayhem is corpsing with sun’s each passing ray;/ the salivary savour of the right ingrown wisdom tooth has cut through your tongue./ in lieu of mango-lit dreamland hours, you are bleeding summer’s grass blades into bleached hair by the pumpkin moon./ the air doesn’t taste saline anymore. // the badlands bequeathed from your father’s lineage have traces ingrained/ even in your attic’s decades-old dust./ they are robbing you of yarns of your maternal grandma’s sarees./ and you’re tired./ you’re tired of helping your mother out to make space for every hand-me-downs/ she has been shoving under her bed. // summer did cut through like a knife/ but you had been stitching your outspoken words/ together to make sweeter sentences,/ so,/ when this year’s fall bids your birds goodbye, they wouldn’t be left with traces of your anomaly. the ones that flew out/ as soon as you opened yourself to the sun,/ for you have realised that the light/ can find you even with the curtains drawn./ there is no place to hide except for the sun’s mouth.// the top right foot of the dinning table/ has stopped creaking./ your grandfather passed away in July./ Chapatis in the house have/ thickened to the normal measure,/ so now,/ you won’t get called names on your bony frame. father sits in the bedroom, contemplating/ on the bait of his day’s sweat by/ the notes he gave out that day and the ones/ he will receive at the end of the month./ the dining table,/ now,/ sits empty in a muffled rattle.// your tongue tastes like/ the decayed French Marigolds/ you found in your late may’s school backpack./ its fragrance still travels through when/ you smell it in between the beige curtains/ of the attic’s room./ you are pondering on what must it be like to watch yourself sleep./ the heart is not heart shaped and/ you want to wash dishes with the foam/ but there are none left in the sink./ you haven’t eaten for 2 hours and,/ unlawfully,/ like an adult’s dream,/you are hungry again.

taglist under the cut! ( send an ask to be added removed.)

@champagnesrush @ch3rryblo55oms @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @jules-hazard @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @floralbeast @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @parihumay (if anyone knows their moved blog, pls notify me)

taglist and transcript under the cut!

grief is a mother

grief is a mother that sits with the birds/ early morning in the graveyard/ pouring water over the rained ground./ she sits & thinks & larps over the plants/ that rise above her child’s grave. thunder/ is what she bequeaths before coming home.// home of hers is a rotten kitchen/ where the tiles shine of blood & tears wipe them, where the knives/ don’t know of the cabinet,/ & the spices rot within 20 days./ she stands behind the counter and/ serves the morning soup for two./ gets up & wipes the tears;/ she lets the blood cook the soup.// grief is a mother waiting/ for an unchained daughter./ she rubs the blanket to her feet at night,/ thinks of Spring with the crib of her/ moonchild. a daughter, an unholy wound;/ she dreams of churches and hears/ high pitched snores. snores of another with whom she shares her warmth/ that brings her wishes/ & a means to ponder along.// grief is a mother with an early scar./ each afternoon, in the quiet she drowns/ in her mother’s womb. soaking inside the sac, hands entwined, she rises to practice the/ eulogy she failed. with each breath,/ she dies of the blood that runs in her veins.// grief is a mother with a damp rug,/igniting fires for lives to cradle;/ a mother that sings in whispers by the burrow. calling upon the heathens, she mourns the death of her tears./ grief is a mother that lives/ in the memory of mothers.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @stewywhoresseni @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @cloudlessnightsleeplessfight @catguinstudies @a-smart-dumbass

omg hi akrati how’re you

amber!!! hellow hi how have you been? im good just logged into this account a couple of days ago ( i shifted accounts) i miss this place so much aha bc of uni been kinda offline etc its been great what about u what are u upto these days?

omg I absolutely adore your writing!!!!! keep it up <3

omg hey!! thank you so much 💕💕💕 means a lot that you enjoy it!! 😳

One poem that’s all i read of yours ….” Home wrecker “

how-

is-

how is it possible someone writes so damn awesome

hands down just ugh *chef kisses*

so good

i'm so glad u liked it <333

We are all the things we do for fun, Heaven only knows what will become of us. I’ll live until my feet get blue, Party in every dumpster on every road.

The city is fascinating, it has its charms; We get drunk in every subway and car.

Wear it like I’m in the movie Got no director, producer- Just us in the mornings. Sloppy masks and makeup- Not going to take them off. What would you do If I stopped turning you on? - @akratiisalive

should i like post a poem im not very proud of but has some stuff that i think i have never written like or wait to have a mentally deranged absolutely soul crushing experience and then write about it and post its watered down version?

Aahhhh the new theme looks beautiful!😍❤️

hey omg thanks so much.💓💓

Consent

Consent is what calls for untoward

When we lose our minds

In hopes of not losing them;

It rights people to perform harshness

With grace, and turn the blame on us.

Consent is nothing but a web

Of lies and unjustness,

Felt heavy at the moment.

It's nice to ask

but never to approve.

It's a web, again.

A web of the unconscious in

the moment of liveliness

- @akratiisalive