Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
kippi Feb 5
the tranquility of ghosting.

how i crave the slick white sheet hovering inches above the ground, barely swirling as the limbo atmosphere stands lentic, no corporeal body underneath.

how i desire the limited peripheral, two cutout eyes that only let me stare towards the floorboards and kitchen and cutlery i cannot pick up.

how i yearn for the final destination within my house, the ectoplasm that follows me around as a new family crams their stuff into the cabinets, desperate to make my grave smell like home.

how i wish i could float beside them, staring quietly at the little tikes frolicking around the living room couch, eons away from my own state, unaware of my inevitability.

how i long to be unable to pick up the knife, or cup, or shaving razor, or blanket, unable to smother, or stab, or slice, or bash.

from the tranquility of ghosting, the inability to harm is what i want most.
my deepest desire
kippi Jan 15
this is merely venting, not poetic, just anger and disappointment.

i am frustrated because i don’t care enough about the right future. i will give all of my anxieties and hopes to love, but ignore the opportunity to LEARN, and where i want to offer my intellectual skills. i am frustrated because i missed my chance to show how much i care, even though i don’t care about the nitty-gritty of it (if you can refer to the nitty-gritty of a football game), and it was because i don’t care enough about the right future.

i need to be better. i know i can do better than this. why is it always so difficult to balance these two facets, and why is no one willing to offer help? i don’t want to push anyone away or throw away something that’s good for me, but i can’t take myself with this behavior. i do not accept myself with this behavior anymore. i am going to do better.
sorry about this lol i can’t talk to anyone so this is what i have
kippi Dec 2021
the locomotive moves steadily across the tracks, puffing thick black smog into the air, never a whine until you pull the breaks.

the great rolling beast carries its prey, flaming fauna displaced from their rocky habitats, that wait to be swallowed up and converted to new life.

the procession of metal bodies traverses across worlds, taking its indomitable wheels into the tundra, the prairie, the urban jungle, at speeds unknown to lesser beings— or even the creators themselves.

but the mighty locomotive does not just conquer mountains and valleys, cities and forests alike.

it takes friends, partners, clients on the journey.

the smallest ones fall into slumber and breathe soundly, blending with the giant’s hum.

as the client’s size increases, their alert eyes dart across the land as the train rips through gravel, rock, and earth; a pasture of horses may be seen and addressed accordingly.

the full grown passenger opens their notebook, jotting down thoughts, identification numbers, budgets, letters, and the like.

they are often the assumed leaders within the belly of the beast, but the train knows of the true captain’s identity.

the final friends to name, the eldest in the cars.

they know the locomotive, being the on its quest across continents, possessing a gentle care with the resting of a hand upon the velvet organs of the beast.

the old ones know the displaced embers, rusted iron bones, cracked glass eyelids, and slowing wheels that come with conquered continents.

so, when the great train creaks to a stop, the elders exist their trusty cars, leave a tip for the porter, and whisper a quiet “thank you” to the train before stepping cautiously onto the oak platform below.

from the locomotive, never a whine, not even to beckon its favorite patrons farewell.
i wrote this while waiting to be picked up from music school lol
  Jun 2021 kippi
Max Eastman
HOURS when I love you, are like tranquil pools,
The liquid jewels of the forest, where
The hunted runner dips his hand, and cools
His fevered ankles, and the ferny air
Comes blowing softly on his heaving breast,
Hinting the sacred mystery of rest.
  Dec 2020 kippi
E. E. Cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
  Dec 2020 kippi
William Blake
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.
kippi Dec 2020
Is it best to lie in the snow
And let a scream out to the world?
To speak of ideas that have swirled,
Have fallen to the ground as slow?

Waiting for the damp heavy weight
That likes to linger on my chest
To take the fingers it has pressed
And lift them from my weak breastplate.

O, how I wish the weight was gone,
To drift away as the clouds do.
Will the weight let me call out to
The mountains holding up the dawn?

I could stand to learn a few things
From how the snowflakes like to fall.
Melting so exquisite and small,
Their bitter cold into nothing.
i wrote this for creative writing and kind of like it, and yes it’s supposed to be formal
Next page