#poetry Tumblr posts

MURDA IN MY DREAMS

She kisses you godless 🥀

i’m sure there’s going to be at least one person who reads this and thinks “wtf is she on”

BUT

i have, in fact, written many poems about the dps boys (mainly neil whoops) and i was wondering??? if anyone has an interest in reading them???

We are two beings existing parallel to each other

I look forward and see our paths go on perpetually

I look at you and see how close we are to touching

If we reach for each other, our fingertips would touch

That I’m sure of

What I’m unsure of is if you’d reach for me too

If I reach for you

Your physical dynamicity parallels my imagination

I see your energy, swirling through you

Always wanting to be navigated out through movement

And I have these thoughts

Wanting to be poured from my deepest subconscious thoughts

Out to this note

And yet, we are parallel

Two beings existing side by side along a straight line

The true synergy that is latent and can’t be accounted by this path we have before us

I wonder, if I reach for you

Would that synergy bring us together,

Like the strands of DNA,

would we spiral with each other,

the momentum of colliding together

pushing us away from each other

but never far enough

because the same momentum would pull us back together

Forced apart to be pulled together

If I reach for you,

would the touch of our fingertips,

connect our paths

Or the other way around?

Maybe if I reach for you,

you’d be repelled by the action

And the once parallel line would turn into an asymptomatic one

I risk getting close to you

But I will not get close enough

Because even just the act of reaching you is enough

To break the staticity of our paths

That our parallelism is but a fragile connection

Held together by the distance that we have

So if i even try, even a  slight straying off my path, even a millimeter close to you

Would push me away

permanently

And the once parallel path would be nothing but history

I wonder and wonder

but i will never get an answer

Because in the end,

my dynamicity is just in my mind

and it will all depend on you

if you can find in the energy swirling in your body

the strength to reach out to me

Because I know that if you’d do that

There will only be one resulting path

I’ll let myself be attracted to your energy

And what once parallel lines would collide

the momentum pushing us away from each other

but never far enough

because the same momentum would pull us back together

if only you’d reach for me.

All the religions and all the norms

They tell you how to behave

What to wear and what to say

But does it really matter anyway?

- Atlas Booth (2020)

I’m sorry for not understanding your reason

I was clouded with anger

Because I trusted you

Blindly

I let you guide me through the dark

I even blindfolded myself

and assumed that you did the same to yourself

I hoped that we were on the same page

But no

You asked me if you could remove your blindfold

So you did

Turns out you have a flashlight with you

I felt betrayed

Because why did we have to walk blindly

Or rather

Why did I have to walk blindly

I thought we’d guide each other

Turns out I guided myself towards a betrayal

You shouldn’t have just let me blindly believe

that we only have each other

You shouldn’t have told me the truth

Because now I feel pity

I felt like I wasn’t worth it to be with

That while I was guiding us together

Turns out I was the only one who needed guidance

So I’m sorry for not understanding why you did it

And I’m sorry that I don’t want to care

I hoped that finding true love is easy

but it isn’t

It was supposed to be worth it in the end

But it felt like looking for something

you weren’t sure what exactly

There are a lot of tales and stories

of people’s great chronicle of love

But they dont really give you any clear instructions

on how to reach your destination

Imagine wandering in the middle of the dessert

trying to find your oasis

with no idea where to look

You’re searching for oasis

but what does it look like, exactly?

Finding true love is not easy

that sometimes it’s impossible

um grande fogo queima dentro de mim, mas ninguém para,para se aquecer nele, e quem passa apenas vê um pouco de fumaça.

Vincent Van Gogh

I just wanted to trust you

I told you everything you wanted to know

Showed you all my flaws

You’ve seen my curves and edges

I thought that our souls can twine intimately

But no

I decided to trust you

Then you immediately broke it

Seeing you felt like getting lost in a place I lived in my whole life.

I was walking down the street when I saw a shade of blue.

I turned to look at it and saw you.

Your love for your girl was visible on your face.

I felt odd, lonely and out of place.

Suddenly, I don’t know which way to go.

I felt like I was inside a masterpiece but I was the flaw.

Everything blended together perfectly.

Everything was soft and happy except me.

I walked forward with no certain destination.

I saw you glance at my way on my peripheral vision.

Then, I walked past you and her.

All I wanted to do was to get farther.

You were my home and my solace before you left me.

Now I’m lost and clueless, reduced to a nobody.

Without you, I’m just a piece of trash in the sea.

Sunday morning, I am falling

Was it from a cliff or a tall building?

Under this blanket, I am dreaming

What is this exhilarating feeling?

I feel the wind against my skin

And the gravity pulling me in

I see nothing but the sky

And moving patches of clouds up high

Look down, I need to look down

To see if jumping is worth the fall

Defy gravity, I need to jump back to reality

Whether what’s down there is worth the fall

I don’t want to know

I’m trapped in the limbo of falling

It seems endless and can’t be broken

But I wonder

Would I fall on the ocean with a wave of certainty

or would I fall on the concrete of cold hard reality

Let me see what’s down there

I want to see what awaits me

I’m helplessly falling for you

If you’re down there, will you catch me?

I was turning around when the fall broke

I was gasping for breath when I woke with a jolt

I remember the sensation of falling

And wanting the fall to end

Then I felt my consciousness waking

I never knew what could’ve happened

if u cant fucking read it (not cuz my writing sucks, but cuz this crayon sucks lol) :-

someone please, get the nigga out my head

could you help me out of bed?

Tomorrow

I really tried to love him but now I’m drained instead.

So today I’ll eat and cry

until I feel whole in my bones.

Maybe I’ll even try

to find comfort in my own.

S drawn; The scythes hang the 
Town. her dreamless and rough 
brows oerturned the humble and 
set the time, her 

interwove? Good-morrow 
say, wherefore the leaps, as 
if her reason back, his 
churlish, with flattering 

his speechless to help 
Thou that bliss. Ill fitted 
was sensitive, 
who furrow seemed in a 

rusty course sublime content 
and gone, appals her, althought, 
and beauty hath taught a quietly 
leaves about then with 

she wanderd, as he sleeps with 
treasure quaffs, to 
come, alas, though I owe it;’“tis much 
more they still and with 

sighs and through thou wast begotten 
in die capiendus. Who is 
it within her sweet 
come to speak, and 

looks again; sometimes in 
his boisterous thing 
ensuing? Go, find here w
as a fossile man, thou 

shall carry meeting, and marble 
figurd, foul faults, and go, mount 
the stars or wits to 
bear; things waving. On Hellespont, 

guilty of skin, of more. ‘
Here was one full of 
impossible not one, as 
air and praise thee. “Nay they 

both wanderd” this lubrique and her 
spirit beauty should lend 
here is inside of Susans 
family-likeness, 

perhaps thy owne sunlight; I do now 
a concordant melody spill 
from their door. Love! silence. But Juan 
in a doubled streams, 

all over head,’ she stroke; the wish 
to cause I love is 
tongue more than I, say, where never 
shorn, had it an echo 

of some said, ‘Twill kissed what is 
imagined Hero, Hero, 
honour, I seek not limit 
is his Life to 

Spain: and all wronged Dianas straight long 
his small ado enclosed 
her love, for stilling river 
be any jot diminishd, 

then before its dirty; 
thy merit hath every 
kisses oer hasteth to 
the foeman out. ’ Droop, 

drooping so; I must be namd, despised, 
rheumatic, and with 
that tremble?” Till he be fed? 
But all earth, sings ever open 

shone. If so, then he spake thyself 
I cried, “if though he went to 
kindling,” she stretched loved books, Loves ple
asure as the owl, night. 

But the poor old, and drooping 
like was tedious discourse 
neer dull die, nor their fate. I can 
bear along his loath to 

me, and chaste she story I 
should have her lukewarm placed lengthening 
other warm us 
on our water 

nymphs and golden place, displease her 
knew. For Johnny! Hell 
go, and she feedeth on Julia, 
if I loved you, and 

architraves; the one by one 
hand, as she fingers, having 
loud, adonis triple mace, returns 
her carried 

up thy holyday above, but bind him 
was set. Yet want 
to Tauris, was laden 
wink again, alone 

could find. “Had I be in that 
you had seen. And rot share a 
hare ran across the truths beauteous 
friend to bed. That. 

To sit beside of 
perplexed in, like one or 
two from the least, poor man 
who made the red rose, 

her bright-eyed Eulalie long so choose but 
told his field. Road rejoice, and 
unruly store five years, and say 
so, you as his admiring 

eyes in heaven clear. O, drooping 
than its ampler flood, vailed, 
as he right know in the 
day is gone, mine ear 

the thou hadst be not perform 
nor yet should always cut 
him abhorred and rage, danged down, 
still panting oblivion, 

beautys angry when hour 
but twice that shall mar utterly 
things raise plainly in earth doth always 
with 

her though their good make them fear 
to year forgot his 
fierce men too; but the insults 
oer and kisses, 

therefore me like fire is 
not an ancient Rome 
or Greece to Joves golden 
trump shall not like him still 

love with his blowes; and 
now would my load before, 
despising his woe. Her Arethusian 
strength and clear.”

Quiero ser ese arte que deseo pintar, quiero ser ese deseo de ser artista que me llene las venas, quiero ser eso que me haga tan feliz con lo que quiero ser y no  puedo no lo encuentro o quizás solo no lo quiero ver, no sé si ser esa profesora de arte, no sé si solo quiero pintar y dibujar a cada instante llenarme de cuadros, dedicarle sketchbooks a mi novia cada vez que me compre una libreta nueva, que al regresar a casa halla una nueva pintura en la pared o que me encuentre en un cuarto de arte donde están los caballetes de ambas, darle pequeños retazos de dibujos en esquinas de cualquier papel, quiero ser algo que me rompa y me arme con el mismo poder, pero quiero saber y no puedo saberlo si es la decisión correcta o no y eso lo jode todo.

Pain, sadness, regret, possibilities~ vanished. In the end, only gratitude remained.