Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
i'll reach into my little tin, and find my nerve to finish this self portrait i tremble with each stroke, but it flows with the medicine my pilled brain's exquisite craving for the remedy you've injected into veins half collapsed from exhausting all other methods and i know we live in simulations so bereft of explanation sagging skin and thinning hair, yeah I can feel my expiration gnawing fast at my morale and pulling my limbs from their hinges darling, please be ever present sacrifice your voice in patience chew the skin off of my face and meld yourself with my self portrait i wish you could have seen my prime i'd even let you in on what i've survived possibly what i'm inspired by but perhaps just what i'm survived by silver shoes in my own casket i know it wouldn't make a difference this canvas only takes up space the curse of being unfinished and i know we live in chemtrail'd nations young chain smokers loitering at gas stations they could swallow their vice whole and still have clearer skin than what's stuck to this husk i inhabit angel, won't you spare a kiss fly me where your North Star is gift me cosmic suffocation repurpose this burdensome self portrait
0
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 9:48 AM UTC
Nora the North Star (Self Portrait)
i'll reach into my little tin, and find my nerve to finish this self portrait i tremble with each stroke, but it flows with the medicine my pilled brain's exquisite craving for the remedy you've injected into veins half collapsed from exhausting all other methods and i know we live in simulations so bereft of explanation sagging skin and thinning hair, yeah I can feel my expiration gnawing fast at my morale and pulling my limbs from their hinges darling, please be ever present sacrifice your voice in patience chew the skin off of my face and meld yourself with my self portrait i wish you could have seen my prime i'd even let you in on what i've survived possibly what i'm inspired by but perhaps just what i'm survived by silver shoes in my own casket i know it wouldn't make a difference this canvas only takes up space the curse of being unfinished and i know we live in chemtrail'd nations young chain smokers loitering at gas stations they could swallow their vice whole and still have clearer skin than what's stuck to this husk i inhabit angel, won't you spare a kiss fly me where your North Star is gift me cosmic suffocation repurpose this burdensome self portrait
ollywolly
Written by
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 9:48 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem