Honest To Whatever Gods May Be Out There Waiting On Me, I Love Being The Big Spoon. I Love Wrapping Myself

Letter #25

I tried to study the art of being remarkable, but by the end of it I found I had become the most boring man alive.

Date Written: 21st of September, 2023

I’d tell you everything if only you’d ask.

Here it is->

(Not my photo)

Letter #28

"You mean something to me, But yours or anyone else's care does not." Such simple, unassuming words Words ordinarily placed that would seem so innocent Yet, they come from you They come from you and that breaks me From you, they come with an unintentional, cruel, agonizing truth The words I hoped to hear one day Those three little words laced in honey so sickly sweet I will never hear them Not in the way I need to, anyway Never in the way I need to Love is not just a feeling It is a deep seated rule that we plead with at night It is a peace encased with care I would live for you, I would die for you I would give it all in a heartbeat But you don't wish for that So I exist amongst separate breaths Quietly, with promise To love is to know the person I see And the person that stands in front of me Despite their shared love of the number 8 Despite their infectious laughter echoing the same chorus Are entirely different beings One of them I will never know Both, I choose to love I helplessly love I unavoidably, inevitably love You are you, and I love you I love you without need for reciprocation I love you with only good will To love is to know I will never see you completely And indulge in what bliss it is to adore the shadows "You mean something to me, But yours or anyone else's care does not." To say that hearing those words All while knowing love stems from care That love is treasuring another's words and being Didn't hurt? I cannot lie. Simply, I love you Eight little letters laced in fiction so densely dreamt Words I wish I could hear spoken from your lips Truthfully, wholly, willingly You and your care mean everything to me. I only wish that I didn't have the sense to know I'm alone

Date Written: 26th of July, 2023

Charles Bukowski, "hurry slowly," from Come On In!

Red wine.

Bitter red wine.

Traces on lips, perhaps intoxicing lipstick

Dry but soothes the throat

I bloat from a cup

And undress the tender booze

A buzz kicks and i daydream numb

I crumble up the soft voice

Telling me be gentle this time

I smoke a cigarette and i let my friend talk.

I won't be cruel i say

As i drink another sip from a brassy cup

The throat is wet

And speaks less

And mind wants to tear up the silence

A crime scene where blood is in a bottle

Soon in our throat

I bloat again, but this time from a bottle

Hopefully i will kiss you and your unraveled secrets

Just because you are my friend

You need a lever and a helping hand

As i look at you, you seem like walking away.

But your Cognac turns your eyes back to mine.

Don't sweat it, don't sway it.

Just speak up and let's talk it out

Our broken parts.

Our bitter cracks

With a taste own Cognac and red wine

We hit each other with darts, our broken parts.

Let us listen and drink couple more past nine.

By Marko Tivanovac

Letter #6

"You really hurt me." Fuck, I wish I could say that to you. I want to tell you "I wished you were better" And hear you say "I'm sorry." like you mean it. My love of you is a laceration across my chest Visible to everyone who meets me, Stinging at every change of the winds. It likes to bleed out at night. The kitchen sink is stacking higher, Soon the laundry pile will join. Sometimes I still see your ghost in the mirror, Staring back at me with empty eyes. I guess I'm in another one of my rutts again It just all feels so pretentious and aimless "You really hurt me, but I hurt me more." The truth is a harder pill to swallow.

Date Written: 10th of August, 2023

Letter #7

Seeing you happy still means the world to me But that joy has grown a contradiction "What is a love without it's strength?" "What is a heart without it's flaws?" My love once so unconditionally sweet Gained a rancid taste, bitter and overripe A fruit left neglected for years Such sharp textures for something so contrite I once promised you the universe To this day I would still serve it to you Only my hands are tainted with soil No longer clean enough to use If I love you, I should let you free A true effort to prove my loyalty Yet the temptation of a bird cage Now sounds the kindest to me

Date Written: 11th of August, 2023

Letter #5

The sharpness traces Gentle and cold Pressure brings warmth, a gasp Purely pleasurable relief Muscles forced into stiffening All while melting to belief "Red is the colour of passion" I tell myself as it trickles down my side Where engravings sing of promises Living life, finally feeling satisfied Guilty yet remorseless "What petal has yet to fall?" So sickly sweet, but is no treat Just a sucker left to crawl

Date Written: 7th of August, 2023

Letter #31

I wanted to tell myself that it's all part of the process, but now, I know this isn't what healing feels like.

Date Written: 18th of October, 2023

Letter #1

My body is defectively failing me Heart malnourished to the point of dysfunction Visions of past flood out my sockets Closing my eyes is impossible now We have passed the station Keep moving or die The clock ticks through tidal waves of thought What is touch without vibration What is a face without it's pores A hand rested on my cheek Gentle, soft, unassuming I could feel myself falling into it eternally But it stays only to taunt, maliciously linger Skin unfit for connection Calcified bones rotting deep Is the infection really to blame What no vitamins could repair My veins are cut thin Blood drips running ever thinner Would I still picture your face When I hear the passing of time asking for it's final embrace This ache runs deep within my chest I'm not so sure I did my best

Date written: 30th July 2023

I'm not good at this whole poetry thing, but hey, got to start somewhere. I hope that sharing this first post can be a good first step working towards that. Writing is kind of how I journal and since I don't share any of this with the people who know me, I can let myself be truly honest and just bleed through the ink until I feel better. It's cathartic, I like that. Ty to anyone who read this, it's nice to feel heard. :) ( I haven't used tumblr in so many years, oh god, am I doing this right? )