#1,501
#1,501
blistered fingertips scratch against constricting linen
i lay in a bed of moss
underneath my grandmothers afghan
and woke surrounded in mold
the clay beneath
tugs, tearing open old gashes
revealing layers of decay
interlocking rigid muscle tissue
every motion scattering spores
i find myself coughing, clenching
crawling through the colonies
for
i am not
your
host
i am only
flesh
and
blood
and yet
that flesh is powdered in mildew
that blood is blooming
i will not yield
i swear
i will taste fresh air
alongside a mushroom omelette
without an inkling of a sour memory
but i fear
i am
rotting
More Posts from Bustlingblankverse and Others
Anyway here’s a poem I wrote about my cat
After “Do not stand at my grave and weep”, author disputed:
Do not stand at your bowl and meow. I gave you food. It’s in there now. I feed you at the dawning light, I feed you at the fall of night. I feed you kibbles mixed with meat And wet food for a special treat. I feed you even though you scoff At all the food within your trough. I feed you and still yet you yell Like as a beast from deepest hell. Do not stand at your bowl and cry. I gave you food. You will not die.
Ruth Awad, “Reasons To Live”
a collection of motivational insights regarding content creation and creative hobbies
and of course the classic
yeah no offense to confucius or anything but if i was about to embark on a journey of revenge i would simply not dig two graves
Ough you go to therapy you take your meds you learn to drive you make friends you graduate college you get a dog you rent a cute apartment you learn to love properly and then one person says something and it makes you feel like a kid again, alone on the swing
thinking about all the “small” art that’s ever existed. songs that were only ever sung in one village. stories written by children that got lost in the shuffle. personal paintings that didn’t survive the test of time. how they affected the lives of just a few, but still existed, still mattered to someone.
Closing shifts.
#89
I saw you today.
I had given up on spotting your sunlight silhouette.
But I saw you for a moment.
Your hand was real and raw and in my hand for the obsessing or destroying.
But I just watched my fingers curl around yours and noticed the crinkles around your eyes.
And smiled back.
A four page comic about drawing, drawn for the Portland Public Library's newest exhibit, "Why We Make Comics: Reflections on Storytelling".
If you live in Portland ME, you can see this comic, as well as three others drawn by Isabella Rotman, Caroline Hu, and Liz Prince, on display from October 6th to December 31 at the library!
