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talia b Sep 2017
is it wrong to think of yourself as some
kind of god or would you love to worship me
in the dark /
where the others will never see you kneel. you shiver / seeing me above you / that's your purpose and your ending / your fists
clutching at soil and your fingers
twisting in sheets. say god
again and when you do
i want it to be another version of
my name.
have you ever thought that maybe we're gods, too?

twitter (s): @corpsehearts / @softgum_

writing/books/poetry ig: raggedhearts
  Sep 2017 talia b
Miss Honey
I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I'm gay
it kind of
spills off my tongue
when I don’t want it to
burning choke in my throat
falling out of me when I wish it would stay inside
when strangers are around
they really don’t need to know

it’s painted on my face
it’s written on the backs of my hands
my collarbone is burning white hot with a tell
and my eyes watering every secret of it

can they tell?
can everyone see right through me?
too scared to ask
also too scared to keep it inside

It wants out more than anything
she wants to be safe more than anything
talia b Sep 2017
i wish we'd stopped when i asked you to but our hands
were heavy with alcohol / or just you. you said i smelled of whisky
and desire and i didn't say anything you cared about / we swapped memories
and in this version it's me, doing the pushing and
pulling and cutting and we make up. we do this to ourselves / to our dogged hearts / 'til our tongues go red
from screaming.
things are harder than ever

insta: raggedhearts
tumblr: softgum
twt: softgum_
talia b Sep 2017
all is dark
and the sun set for the last
time, tonight. we watched it sink / you and you and all the versions of me and them.
they'll drown
battered in the tide. it takes them, and me. it takes and eats. we hear it feast, bellowing. i rage at the stars for watching and at me, for wishing / i break my own hands
in pounding on the earth, begging her to open /

did you know that our world
is ending
and i've never seen the ocean?
there are so many things i wanted to do

insta: raggedhearts
tumblr: softgum
twitter: softgum/corpsehearts
talia b Sep 2017
sometimes we need no beginning ; or ending. only meeting them
at the right moment, when the stars or the gods / or the gentle and raucuous earth, overfull on maudlin sorrow / move us into this moment. you ease into my life as if you never left / you will stay; 'til i forget when you came and when you leave again and i follow and we circle, like stars, atom and dust to dust to hopeful ashes, always reaching, reaching for the moment
we meet /


hello: welcome home.
talia b Sep 2017
dear: [redacted]
had a dream about you / body in the water. you held onto the
poolside with two shaking hands and when you saw the look
in my eyes you considered holding me under
/ drowning the spite right out of them. it would’ve worked but
this was my dream, about you and i killed you first / killed you ‘til
my knuckles turned white / to the sound of the hush hush water / to the last
gurgling breath.
excerpt from: the tangled heart (a book in the making)

poetry / book ig: @raggedhearts
tumblr: @softgum
twitter: @softgum_/@corpsehearts
talia b Aug 2017
the poem stops for nobody like a speeding heart
or the screeching car. i saw one
crash and it was too dark too quiet too loud too much glass all over the pavement and i thought, first, of who would pay for that old fence to be replaced .  i worried about the pennies and pounds once the smoke cleared and a man stumbled out, angry / ashamed / scarlet-cheeked, scarleteen, no blood . he got loud and i had a camera and did not hesitate to hide it from sight / anti-spectator syndrome. it was too dark too loud too quiet and i am not a mood-breaker, smelling smoke
as it turns and twists, over and over,  acrid and dark
against the night.
I didn't actually see the car crash. I heard it, from up the street and smelled the smoke. My heart beat hard, I hoped nobody was dead and my mother told me to take this opportunity because that's what photographers do. I know it happens fast, like a bone snapping; I've been in almost-crashes, and there's no time to breathe. You hold it, hold your panic, hold on tight and when it's over - it's over.

insp: the 'crush' anthology, by Richard Siken
twt: personal - @corpsehearts + other - @softgum_
tumblr: @softgum
instagram: @raggedhearts
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