»We have calcium in our bones, ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
iron in our veins, ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
carbon in our souls, ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
and nitrogen in our brains. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
93 percent stardust, ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
with souls made of flames, ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
we are all just stars ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
that have people names.«
— Nikita Gill, ‘93 Percent Stardust’ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
das nächste “in the belly of a star”-kapitel erscheint voraussichtlich donnerstag. 🌙
blurred lines, and blurred boundaries have led to a blurred allegiance with
romanticising trauma to cope
is like forcing
due to your own peer pressure.
the eyes begin to water
and respond with rejection
but that is the closest you get to
the drunken narrative brings you temporary peace, and temporary relief
as the pain in numbed, but never cured. "it hurts so good" is now written on the welcome mat, inviting the poison into the temple where it now feels at home.
it sits comfortably in your favorite chair.
it lies in your bed, dirtying your sheets.
the lovely fragrance you spray cannot remove the stench from the air. it only mixes in with the scent, masking the smell from what you do not want to face.
i want my temple back,
and i want it clean.
so when pain and pleasure come knocking on the door
i hold s p a c e for one,
and ask the other
to come visit
in my dreams.
I want to slit your wrists with a knife
And then cry when you bleed too
You made me a lunatic
I hate you yet love you
My mind is in a disarray
Pangs of hatred ,bursts of care
But knowing your unpredictablity
I'm scared to actually lay my heart bare.
Love is as much planning as it is accident
As much beauty as disaster
You spoilt my fairytale
But still are my heart's master.
I thought I'd found the one
My forever and always
Should have known your love
Was a just a small fake phase
I hate you for hurting me,
Hate myself for hurting more
It's not like this was the first time
But ain't no-one left me quite this sore
And even after the betrayal
Part of me lives for you
Wishes I could wake up to your smile
With the fragrance of coffee brew
I really wish you're hurting
And crying behind that mask
I hope like me its for you too
forgetting memories is an impossible task
They told me love hurts but it's all for good
They told me its a beautiful havoc
No one mentioned it'll break me
And shatter my heart's strongest rock.
You have the power to melt the heart
But you are the cause of the pools of hate
What did I ever do to you?
That you left me in such a impotent state
I didn't know it was possible to hate
Someone with whom in love I fell
But love makes people do things
I love you to hell.
Please tag me if you use my work!
Because it is New Year’s Eve. Because no one who was there would
remember it now. Because my mama said I looked grown in my
new dress and heels that made my legs look slim. Because her mama
taught her that was a good thing, her mama whose beauty got her through
the war. Made a living out of a body singed black and white and silver screen
silence. And I am eight or nine. A cousin held tight in each hand, we navigate
the minefield dance floor. Each of us a patchwork of scrapes and bruises that
we never notice until we do. Expecting stroke of midnight, instead seeing
man dancing, man looking like all the Disney princes that whisked the princess off
to a better life. Except for maybe Aladdin. Skin like birch bark. Hair like forest
set aflame. And he tells us to lower ourselves to this music, to shimmy
as close to the floor as our bodies will allow and you can almost
hear it, how the bullet of need can pass through more than one body.
How the echo of grandmother’s survival can slip, like a needle into the ear
from between my mother’s teeth. Wanting to be the special one. Wanting
to be the person he puts his lips to first. Being jealous when he blows smoke into
my younger cousin’s mouth and brands her his. A belly of ancestors singing of how
fear can so often feel like desire, as I feel her hand slip away from me. Waiting for
the bell to toll in this city that was once so close to its final hour. Still, these are things
I will not care to know for many years. In this moment, today and tomorrow
sink their teeth into each other and the road home is paved in the cracks
between Manila’s rubble. Tomorrow we will go to church and hot wax from a
novena candle will glance off my skin like a thousand rosary beads. I will not
recognize the need to live but maybe I will understand the desire for salvation.