my fridge poetry.

[reads: I consciously believe anxiety/ is an elaborate orchestra/ a worrying bosom/ little devil angel/ beneath my soul/ the genius muse exploring/ the ghosts between memory]

And sometimes I just want to write

But my hands are too shaky

With the anticipation of all the thoughts

Fluttering around in my head

Rabid birds

Or butterflies

Fighting

Clawing

For attention

The adrenaline pulses

And I can’t even touch my pen

To paper

Thoughts flying whispering

I wonder what she meant by

Appropriate behavior

Because I don’t think she knows

And 

I feel so alone tonight

My bed is too cold

And

My stomach is hurting

And I feel like there’s something

Inside me

And maybe it’s the words

Clawing their way out

A demon child

That I will love

But will only destroy me

And as I hold it close

Too tightly

Holding it to feel some warmth

It will consume me

And it will use me up

And I will be alone once more

Giving myself to a parasite

When I just wanted

To write

But my hands are too shaky

With the anticipation of all the thoughts

Fluttering around in my head

“What Women Deserve” by Sonya Renee.

Amazing.

This is why I write. Sarah Kay at TED talks.

I left my love

My cavalry man

I break his heart

And he holds my hand

He loves me more

Than anyone could

Afraid he’ll leave me

But I know he should.

The hardest thing is to not let yourself feel

But you know it’ll be easier in the end

If you’re not vulnerable

Then you’ll never get hurt

Or disappointed

Or angry

Or scared

But people say

Oh, if you bottle up your emotions

You’ll explode

Like nuclear bombs

With fallout lasting for years

Poisoning water and wells

Poisoning people

Making them wither and die

Little girls whose only hope is 1,000 paper cranes

Impossible tasks only ending in failure

and disappointment

They say that if you never let yourself feel

You won’t feel happiness

Feel love

Feel hope

But if you never feel hope

You’ll never feel the pain of dying after crane 999

Or falling out of love

Or being pushed away

Maybe ignorance is bliss

I’ve started writing this, but it’s a work in progress and I don’t know where to go with it. Suggestions/feedback?

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rainbowsandwitheringwinters:

(by arjuna_zbycho)

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I really meant it when I said

That I’d always love you

(via dearbuddha)