There Was Never A Lucille. [19. 1. 24.]

lay claim [10. 8. 24]

when will it be my turn?

to rightfully see what i learned?

to righteously claim what i've earned.

when will it be my turn?

can you stop denying a lady a right to her life?

can you stop denying your ladies their merriment and light?

can you stop denying the ladies their birthright?

because ever since we were born, we've had to fight.

that simply isn't right, for you close out our light...

now is it?

we are made of flesh, blood and bones.

never once have we been left alone.

greedy hands and greedy men.

greedy eyes, from them, ourselves we must defend.

the laws that are in place

do not change the mindsets of the space.

we want to be seen,

level and equal,

not the greater of the two evils.

to that, we wern.

so when will it be my turn?

to rightfully see what i learned?

to righteously claim what i've earned.

when will it be my turn?

..._...

delicacy and respect cannot be decided on, practiced and maintained in a day.

if it was, the world would be in the best way:

an echo chamber of buoyant, auspicious ideas

and everyone, willing to listen.

no proposing to deaf ears.

but why is a universe like this seen as wild.

because when you disagree,

some see it's fitting to act as a child.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

ratgirl [24. 2. 24]

"why so messy?", is what she asks me.

'why so messy?', is what i think.

none other to blame but myself.

beautiful chaos and beautiful clothes on the floor are my shell.

for i have nobody besides myself.

no friends, nobody else.

outside of my phrontistery,

nobody contacts me.

i am not worth a friend to them yet,

they are worth a friend to me.

then-

at home, all alone.

no matter if the temperature is warm or cold.

no matter if my room's door is opened or closed.

no matter if my speech is silent or bold.

not physically yet,

i'm at home, all alone.

my mind's imagination is organised.

quite organised and clean.

the thought of true friends, a fun life and romance is with what it gleams.

i live in my room,

apathy lives in me.

life is not miserable,

nor is it fun.

it's like this for all but,

at the same time for none.

none other to blame but myself.

beautiful chaos and beautiful clothes on the floor are my shell.

but gosh,

doesn't it look like hell?

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

fischer's girls, fischer's girl [31. 5. 24.]

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others, cold as stone.

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

i've recently discovered bobby fischer and dreamt of him lots...

and i've been playing lots of chess.

why are the mad men the most handsome?

and at what they do, always the best?

now that drives me mad.

but if i'm the best, will i go mad too?

not that he would think much of me,

my insignificance similar to that of a shrew.

a pawn, a gawk and goner.

he's right because i am quite lousy at chess...

and i'd like to stay at home.

he's wrong because i can cook

and i don't and won't leave the intellectual affairs alone.

and other than chess, i'm quite good at them.

i wish to be left alone but not to be left like him.

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others, cold as stone.

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

and when i meet my demise, for it, i think my mental would be fit.

during life, people laugh and

my name, they begore.

and i declared i would not be it.

and when i meet my demise, for it, i think my mental would be fit.

i know i will not be missed.

64 squares; a chess board full.

piano chiming in my ears,

dear God, i'm a such fool.

no friends, no company

it's not worth my soul-

nothing is worth just a nobody.

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others,

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

i would not be able to fix him,

i'm not even able to fix myself.

i wish i was able to...

to do both.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

demolish [7. 4. 25.]

exposure,

closure.

for sure,

i definitely need more...

more of it.

for i crave it like nothing else.

i'm in a space,

one with a fairly comforting embrace.

for i know it's just a burst of blackened energy.

but when it becomes rosy,

i'll hold close my posy.

looking at the petals for faith...

looking at the leaves for an esplanade...

looking-- the stems, for they are pretty waif...

and looking to the browned roots for gen.

Copyright © 2025 Cattille Quettea

there is no lucille. [18. 1. 24.]

i wanna be more.

i need to want less.

less to earn,

less to get.

more to give,

more to learn.

why can't i keep the things that i earn?

must you rip them from me?

under and out from my hands?

my accomplishments are yours,

because we are friends.

but now we aren't friends.

no friendship seeds verdant.

don't expect me to again

remove this burden.

look what you've done.

look what you've made.

eat it all up,

dont avoid your plate.

no efforts of yours were verdant,

refrain from writing of letters,

you've sewed what you've sent.

now wanting to be friends?

now wanting to repent?

your accomplishments are mine,

because we were friends.

you and only you...

are the burden.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

cattille's core catalogue ['24 - '25]

cattille's catalogue ['24] : lieux, personnes et actions

cattille's catalogue ['25] : pays de rêve

hey my alstroemeriaceae! cattille here! am sorry to a great extent that i withdrew for months, i kind of went through the longest bout of moroseness of my entire life <3.

want to make it up to all of you lovelies, new poem series? yay or nay? (vote, i sincerely beg of you)

everlast [1. 7. 24.]

i finally went to a park, getting fresh air outside of my lawn.

days without a sole companion,

days seem that they never end,

sun details the darkness.

bugs, they seem as if they're my only ever friends

rises the moon.

other girls had all their fun, all their men.

over them, they do swoon.

but as for me, i am all alone.

my only company is sun, stars and moon.

silence details my darkness,

rotting alone in a finally clean room.

rises the moon.

something's left within a soul,

yearning,

longing,

with no hope.

rises the moon.

longing for a bezzie.

yearning for some sort of paisan.

i've subsist for far too long.

how did i possibly go on?

i did because i've no hope

and there's nothing else to do but cope.

so i stay up late and sleep all day, then rise in the noon.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

latch [2. 3. 24]

oh,

i want him so badly.

oh,

i want somebody oh, so badly.

i don't want to lack in his love.

i want to latch onto him and

i want him to love it.

to love me.

i want him,

i need him.

i need somebody.

i need somebody who sees me as perfect.

if they do, to them i will do the same.

i want to be loved-

for the first and final time.

please oh, please i want just a single man.

no more than one, i want love.

i want true love.

i need it.

i need him to obsessed with.

i need him to need me to be obsessed with.

i need him,

this perfect, non-existent him...

i need this.

i need love.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

citadelle [24. 1. 24]

i just wanna live like i know every thing,

i know everything.

like i own it,

i own it.

but the world didn't have time for a girl who lives like she wants,

dreams like she wants,

achieves like she wants.

so, why would it have time for a lady who does?

the truth is,

it didn't.

and the world still won't make time for a woman living like she lives,

doing what she did,

succeeding like she had.

so she says forget it:

"since they don't have time for my dreams, they must not have time for my success"

they can crumble, they can rot.

for all i care

because i don't care.

they don't have time for her dreams, they must not have time for her success.

they didn't have time then and they won't have time now.

i'll make my own time.

with lip-gloss and flowy-flower dresses, curly dark tresses.

we'll make our own time.

with short hair, long hair, no hair.

we'll make our own time.

with or without monolids.

we'll make our own time.

with a slimmer or bigger frame.

we'll make our own time.

with stainless or inked skin.

we'll make our own time.

we'll be our own fortress.

our own citadel.

it's gonna be glorious.

with peace and shades of pink

and side walks of rose gold, only the finest metals.

pearls will adorn us

and their mothers will make up our housings.

pearlescent skies will cover the heavens for us.

the weather will be warm but never too hot.

the air will never have foul smells nor will it show signs of pollution.

never ending days yet everlasting nights.

this time;

we'll know it

we'll own it.

we'll make our own time.

we'll be our own fortress.

our own citadel;

if we can't,

we'll rot trying,

trying to fashion our citadelle.

because the world is the angriest hellcat out here

and fantasy's a killer.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea