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ash Mar 2020
On Sundays, I always get the urge to fake my death. To run away into the sun, to leave my bones behind in my bed, in my tomb. They’ll look for me, when Monday blooms, like winter on the exhale of a child. Painting everything in its too cold to hold pinks, and bruised blues. I’ll be in a place that’s warmer. A place that doesn’t break, when I bend. I know it’s selfish to want people to mourn you. But I’ve always loved funerals more than weddings, I’ve always been attached to the idea of grief.



2. I want to celebrate the dying of light. I’d carry my heart like a sword, lodged through my chest. I want to be the bright, exploding burst of fireworks against the void. I want to be memories cracking like lightning on a prairie, seconds before a final breath. I want to be the last word on this world’s lips. I want to be everything and nothing all at once.



3. When they write about me, they will write about me as if I were nothing but a smoke and mirror trick. Someone that was too big for their bones, so they chewed their way through them. The same way a dog chews its ways through the bars of a cage. I have always been aware of my own temporariness. Have always held myself, the same way the air holds rains. That is to say, I slip right through. I fall to the ground, and become something else entirely. I have never completely owned this state of being. I have always been my own unbecoming.
thinking about death, dying, new starts, and consequences.
  Mar 2020 ash
lua
i miss feeling like i never cared
as if life was merely something id get to experience when im older
but the reality sinks
and hits me in the face
and now im having a mid life crisis during my teen years
and the desire to die makes me high and low at the same time
to the point where i can't distinguish what's real or not
it's a wonderful day
a wonderful day
a wonderful
a wonder

i wonder.
ash Dec 2019
today, i wake up wearing an old band t-shirt and i’m sixteen again / pulling jumper sleeves over my palms / keeping my eyes on my feet / earphones in / willing myself invisible / refusing to step out of changing rooms in anything that clings to my skin / flinching from mirrors and cameras / nobody wants to stay too long at the beginning of a cinderella story / before the lenses and makeup and hair-flipping confidence / before the boys who call you a frigid ***** for expressing an opinion start to slide into your DMs / saying “hey, you seem cool, i’d love to hear you talk about feminism.” / but they’d love get you drunk first / love to get funny girl / cool girl / beer-pong and dancing on tables and witty comebacks / always-slipping-out-of-your-hands / let’s-tame-this-shrew-wild-girl / like yeah give this girl a stage but stop her if she makes you uncomfortable / we like a damsel-in-distress, big-blinking-eyes-trophy-wife / not the girl who stood in between her best friend and the ones who mocked her for her body / not the girl with bloodied lips instead of red lipstick / grinning, saying, “you’re going to have to go through me.” / nobody likes an ugly girl with a mouth full of words / so you learn to swallow them / be prettier, shinier, smoother / show them a piece of glass instead of dagger / lie in wait to turn the tables because you still remember / what it’s like to be sixteen and forced to look at your body as a liability / what it’s like to be sixteen and told your anger is embarrassing / just another teenage phase
ash Nov 2019
we’re ***** people like made from cracks in walls and spurting showerheads.
we used to be clean kids, i guess, but the grime comforted us.
it’s a way of life.
stained carpets mean we belong someplace.
i hope it’s because we’re pure of heart.
me and my friends have a long way to go but we also have each other.
  Nov 2019 ash
fray narte
It's been a year and the streets are a little brighter, and daybreaks are a little colder, and everyone seems a little happier. But forgetting has become way harder and longer, darling, and Novembers still feel like losing you.
  Nov 2019 ash
Phoebe
Lucky charms with all the marshmallows picked out-
picture this:
rainbows and leprechauns
smiles full of gold teeth
angles on the ground with chipped nail polish
on call but for the discounted prayers
the poor neighborhoods
the not entirely righteous
demons of gasoline
guardians of the latchkey kids

I meet angels all the time
they put their wings on my lungs,
fly my breath away

There aren't any marshmallows left
guess I'll have to make my own luck.
ash Oct 2019
i dont want to do it anymore i cant to it anymore
i keep waking up with the same empty feeling every **** morning
and it doesnt matter what the weather forecast says because its always cloudy in my head
and laughing doesnt feel the same as it used to
and when i told you i was sad you said it was because i wasnt even trying to be happy
but no matter how wide i smile and how many friends i meet up with i still cant feel the happiness anymore
and im beginning to think that maybe happiness isnt for everyone
maybe some people were just made to always be in pain
i'm not okay, i guess
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