Demolish [7. 4. 25.]

there will never be a lucille. [20. 1. 24.]

the heart of she continues to beat,

but she is dead.

the pupils of she keep on intaking,

but she provides no output.

the limbs, the blood, the grace.

the reputation, the responsibility, the face.

the sins that flood the grave.

she needs help,

she'll never be able to obtain.

she is gorgeous,

she's glamour.

she tries not to think yet,

her mind is clamoured.

she's gorgeous,

she is glamour.

she's staring death in the face and

send off bouquets stare right back at her.

a stare so comforting,

so sweet.

her feet gently pushed the chair to the side.

her body flies; so eager for death to meet.

the road was hard.

her soul, now fed.

the heart of she used to continue to beat,

but now she is dead.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

FROTH [15. 7. 24.]

[after the "loss" of a shoddy "friend"]

rot, inexplainable rot.

froth, unforgettable froth.

loss, an unfortunate loss.

or is it fortunate?

it's early to determine.

now, i don't feel as if i have lost a single thing.

yet, as of now, i do feel a bit empty.

more room left in my life,

more room for the scar tissues.

more room for building up

and becoming more.

after the wound is cleaned with hydrogen peroxide,

germs are harshly ripped and stripped for it.

froth, stinging froth,

froth, singing froth.

froth, froth, FROTH!

if wishing on a star won't grant me friends,

perhaps nothing will.

and just because i lack companions,

does not means i never lack having time to kill.

loss, silencing loss.

loss, violently loss.

loss, loss, Loss!

but i must occupy my life,

i must occupy my time...

with useful things.

i must occupy mine.

i aspire to not

rot, rot, rot.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

display [29. 4. 24]

i wish the people around saw the beauty of my soul.

i can understand how they may gaze over it and not realize how elated they could be to see it.

it is only not purely a classic, dolly beauty i possess.

it's a beauty only for the fatigued, harrowed eye-

for they are the only souls who can appreciate it's entirety entirely.

it's a beauty similar to no thing but,

to describe a close match;

it can be grouped together with the beauty of

black cygnets, bloody, and covered in clots.

unharmed,

not hurt.

for my visions are hazy and blurry.

forevermore covered in dots.

perhaps it is good that many ignore.

no threats to me,

less of the foul souls score.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

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

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

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

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

spun out [28. 12. 24.]

to drive,

to die,

it's all the same.

my mind,

my heart,

brittle bones and face.

killing yourself for perfection is a way to live.

dying because you cannot achieve it is also a way to wear your skin.

it's nothing.

it's nothing at all.

relish it and watch them fucking fall.

to drive,

to die,

it's all the same.

my mind,

my heart,

brittle bones and face.

i'll drive,

i'll die,

it's all the same.

Copyright © 2025 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

there was never a lucille. [19. 1. 24.]

everyone worries about the physical purity of the girl, lady, woman.

why doesn't anybody care about the mental purity of the girl, lady and woman?

telling to her keep her hands to herself.

to keep her eyes to herself.

her skin to herself.

her very presence.

but letting others be so quickly to impurify her mind with the red hot dousing of "bitch", "whore", "slut", "broad" and more on the stainless cloth of her psyche.

for that is worse than the judging irises

looking upon her like a virus.

worse than baneful whispers.

she then is mentally messed up for life,

finally proper and put into line by being called such foul monikers.

but, for she has no mind.

no light within her iris, pupils too.

she then is judged for that.

she is then going to be messed for a second time.

she will have nothing lacking in the eyes of the world.

no soul, no mind.

-- for rot has stripped it from her

she will ascend past humanity...

to femininity.

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

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