ivy-collins-poitras
I love reading/writing poetry whilst staring off into the distance in the most melodramatic way possible. Writer, poet, feminist, progressive, guilty of writing in sentence fragments. / / If my tumblr followers find me here, then I say... let them eat cake! They'll like that.
suffering Clots in my gut
humanity gurgles In my throat
holes drilled into the Veins of the earth
as i taste a country drenched in colonIzed blood on my Lips
a melting arctIc leaks from my eyes
weStern destinies fester in my chest
as the fissures in its surface smoke my lungs out like burning gAsoline
i can Touch each pole with the pads of my fingers
and shake the glassy world
one day i will lay flat and press my tongue agaInst the world
and feel it dissOlve in my mouth
like the fizzy tablet of Nothing it is
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 9:21 AM UTC
I have no mother tongue
No tongue to speak of
The scope of my mouth and slope of my lips are dry with the sins of fruit
I have no country
No ground to lay my clothes
All I know of this raining world is the homelessness it gives me
I have no ancestors
None who have died on my back
The air that birthed me sunk into the sky with a ragged gasp
I have no one
Nothing
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
I am stone that erodes to powder,
I am milk that slowly turns sour,
I am a mountain pumped with bile,
I am a child laid on the Nile.
I am half-flesh and half-sutured skin,
I am alive in a pile of dead twins,
I am the last in a bloodline of likeness,
I am a stain on all that is righteous.
I am evidence of a timeless trope,
I am a product of vainglorious hope,
I am the epitome of hubris gone wrong,
I am a shell with nothing gone.
I am the infant locked away by Pride,
I am left to bear the tide,
I am the child with her hands pinned,
And I can’t be forgiven, for I haven’t sinned.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 9:08 AM UTC
being the silence's only hope
her angel eyes fell up the slope
hope springs nothing but fallen faith
time brings nothing but scars
ours are lights that matches start
our matches strike their chord
we light our angel eyes on fire
if only because we're bored
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Darling, save me, if you please,
From screaming atop grey mountains,
Crying to the river's powdered hum,
And speaking into the rain.
Let me bleed for your warm embrace,
Because now the thunder is getting louder—
The storm is coming—but with you,
I don't mind it much, anyhow.
What if I ask one favor too many,
And you won't touch me anymore?
I'd shrink back to the deepening cold,
The gospel of the rain's downpour.
So I think I'm going to just give up—
In a 'sort of' sort of way,
And darling, save me if you want,
But I've not got all day.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC