#mold
When I dream,
I feel free,
Like last night,
I had a dream that
My mom and I were moving in
To our old house, in which, I grew up
Because
We were done,
And so over it.
She said that she had
“Asked the landlord to clean
The mold” that shows up in my dreams, usually,
When I think about this old house, or
That old shack, or cabin, or
Whatever you want to call it.
We, each, got our old rooms back;
And it was debatable about the third room,
Near the bathroom, downstairs.
Where stuff, and stuff, and more stuff
Accumulated. I imagined,
In my dream,
That we would, either,
Rent it out, or let stuff accumulate, again.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 18, 2025
Nov 18, 2025 at 1:08 PM UTC
I toss and turn in the moonlight
Your love is like moonshine
Bitter, but with a wild side
Prickly like thorns
And beautiful like your roses
Lady of the moon, bathe me in your beams
Let me mold like the rotten husk I am
Let me sink into your ocean
Craddle me in your caverns
Let me drown in what is you
Cleanse me of my sins
And rebirth me anew
So that I may be perfect for you
Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 3:42 AM UTC
i was born and on fire. my skin, open flesh wounds that bled onto anyone in a close vicinity. my face, a cloud of black dust. i knew that i had love in my heart to share with the world, but no one could see past the mold on my skin that would spread to them if they got too close. i was born into two things: a fruit that appeared ripe on the outside but leaked out a decayed, rotten mess, and the hands that opened said fruit with blood that held on. i watch the destruction i've made, that i didn't mean to make, but i believed that it was justified. i wait for someone to understand these words, not to pity me, but to find a part of themselves in me. i have found nobody. i fear that as of now, i am a walking, moldy model of decaying flesh and raw meat. i did not want to be this way. i did not want to be the black sheep. i did not want to be bad. i am a sculpture of wet clay that they could mold with their pure hands, and despite all that creativity in their alive and well minds, they have carved the word "rotten" in my flesh.
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May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
This gold bar will oxidize more
Rusting onto my hand
There is blood on this marble floor
Stained glass windows are only sand
There is a crown split in four
There are holes in the door
And this is the life you call luxury?
You made these diamonds with chemicals
And try to bribe me with emeralds
But I will not let them touch me
What turns to ash?
What turns to fame?
What is cash?
What is a name?
Our lights are as bright as gold
Twinkling stars over my head
They turn green, turn to mold
I turn to hope instead
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 11:06 PM UTC
Mold me
Like clay that can be recycled,
Then formed into something new.
This clay, like a rebirth, now loved,
This new reinvention shows the new you.
Like in the potter’s hands, he molds a beautiful shape,
One that once was just a lump of clay.
The potter’s hands can make this art anew, escape—
Like helping shape someone’s life one day.
We are like clay, being worked and formed.
This process is like the improvement of oneself.
Unlike the piece that once was unformed,
Now becomes something beautiful to display on a shelf.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 9:14 PM UTC
you can pour it out unrefined.
i can hold it for you,
the mess made by your love,
one i verbosely write about,
but, never truly understand.
darling, we can just figure it out,
as we go places and stay
within each other's hold.
for better or for worst,
i am your willing capable mold.
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 9:50 AM UTC
our thoughts are part of
life's molding now you know it
what you gonna do
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 3:01 PM UTC
rotten food in the fridge
left in a little too long
the maggots are consuming
it from the inside out
the clock seems to tick slowly
an illusion of time
slowly going quickly
and soon i’m out of luck
the days pass by
as i lay in the fridge
quickly going moldy
day by day
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 4:06 PM UTC
|content warning for mysophobia|
I scrub away charcoal lifeforms
Rooted into undead surfaces
Which festered while I was away.
I feel sweat bead on my dewey skin
From redemptive exertion
In sterile chemical air
My home is not surrendered
To fungal colonies of neglect.
Jun 23, 2024
Jun 23, 2024 at 4:32 AM UTC
I know how I’m going to die.
Trapped inside of my mind with no room to stretch
and no oxygen to breathe,
surly my own thoughts will suffocate me long before
I turn to stone from my rigid posture.
I’ve always wondered what I was meant to be
and if I will ever be able be that..
To attempt to accomplish everything I’ve laid out for myself
is terrifying, especially when
those I loved the hardest
already have a mold ready for me.
as if this was a twisted tale of Cinderella,
I was forced to wear something that could never fit me.
Blisters and bruises weren’t the only things I received.
now I hide inside of my mind,
a body inside of a body,
because how can he hurt me if
the real me is hidden ?
Jun 12, 2021
Jun 12, 2021 at 6:46 PM UTC
Molding lumps of clay,
Sticky, earthen residue,
shaped to doughy love.
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
#*Moulds and mold
Shape it right or let it rot
Meanings to words
As you seek*#
Oct 15, 2020
Oct 15, 2020 at 1:48 PM UTC
The tiny red ant scampers
In a forest of greenish mold
Its bristly legs carrying
Biological modules:
A head with pincers
An imperceptible thorax
A swelling abdomen.
It has nothing but a laborious drive
A pheromone-induced servility
For the queen: the lazy, bloated tyrant!
The sole purpose being
The laying of eggs.
The noble red ant
Moves on to scavenge
Blind and dumb
Oblivious.
To the ruthless cycle
Of its existence.
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
How much can a lizard know, I wonder,
looking out my window at my rock
in the shadow of my house,
always a glance away when
an I am in this position
and aware there is
there, the rock, the still threaded witness,
in granite,
the shaking that shook up all the mountains
shook them all all up
at once
it was a whole planet shaking at once, rung
like abaodingball
abiding in the echoes we can hear with our augmental
ears,
we know whales sing when no one is listening,
as we know the sound of a certain tree
falling
in
a legend, new and old, a sticky thought,
ancient of days, is this lizard brain,
you still work?
WOW, OLD CODE FROMe ericfrome-ish havingbeing
Tomas Auge, reviewexpress weighting algorythm,
it tipped. 13 years, 327 days, 57 minutes 13. nnnnnnnnnnnnn
Any time this happens we yoostasay selah,
now we breathe,
once to be
once to have
once to hold and look around. are we dragging any fool
to madness?
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 8:03 PM UTC
There’s mold in the attic
Next to the instillation and between the ears
so many people wanna condemn this place
Yet they have never lived here
They didn’t see it when it was new and beautiful
Before the outside world formed cracks in its foundation
Before years of storms leaked in and rotted memories
All the world sees is foreclosed eyes
That’s why they are so blind
Always trying to tear us down
Instead of building us back up
Then they wonder why we put locks on are doors
And plywood over the windows
They only wanna see something new
Even if its not there own
Some people houses look just like mine
Some peoples minds are abandoned homes
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 9:04 PM UTC
Hold me in your arms
Til my broken pieces
Merge into something
Worth your love
Since God made us in His image
you were made in divine soil
While I was formed in clay
And you can mold me
To the best man
You wanted me to be
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 5:25 AM UTC
I used to believe loss was part of life
That isn't quite correct
Losing IS life
The losses what make us who we are and mold us
The wins just the incentive to keep us in the game
So I am learning to embrace the suffering and let it stretch my soft parts into something stronger
Instead of wishing bad weather away
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 11:53 PM UTC
I will not exhaust myself for the sake of making ends meet and let my dream wilt away
I refuse to settle, to find myself engrossed in a mundane life
in a town where the people are all pretending to not be miserable
I have spent too many minutes trying to fit the mold of what I thought I had to be
I want to believe I can come back to myself
like an old friend at a corner booth, caught in city winds
a foreign place but a feeling all too familiar
I'll meet her in a coffee shop, writing with ink stained fingers
this is the me I've always liked the most
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
the mold on the bones
of a wolf ****
600 years ago
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
Breathed in the breath of the saviour,
To richen the soul of the poor.
I puffed out a portal to the cloud kingdom.
Holding onto the scales of a dragon.
The earth beneath my feet begun to shrink,
And the sky above my head started to sink.
I caught a glimpse of what was behind the cloud,
And was dropped from a million feet high down to the ground.
I met an angel with a kick,
Wanted by the government.
Eyes as wide as rabbit holes,
As bright as a solar moon.
Black stars in between white spaces,
Generating a reluctant mold.
There’s golden flakes in its hair,
Its string chokes my throat.
I thought it was my angel,
Turns out it was fool’s gold.
When the fog sets,
And everything fades away;
I turn off my car headlights,
And stear into the grey.
I like to hide in the clouds,
They make me so happy;
But when I come back down,
They make me so sad.
Digging in my grave to find heaven,
Inhaling the smoke of another dragon.
I think I might have found my God.
I’m melting in his eternal sunshine.
Smoked the crumbled image of his face,
It turned my tears into wine.
The earth's my grave,
The sky's my cradle.
Unearthing my new low,
To find the highest place one can go.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 4:04 AM UTC
what i long for are those lips,
to take long, slow, and passionate sips.
to caress your rough, worn face.
as you play around with lace,
both our legs intertwine under the covers,
as you and i mold into one another as lovers
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
I know who I am
My moral's
Things that cannot shake me
But I'm drowning in my sorrow's
All of the things that continue to break me
I have let the bad things shape me
Mold me into a form I do not recognize
I know who I am
She is very hard to find
Under the debris and
The dark night's I can still see
My moral's
the things that cannot shake me
But I let the bad things break me
I dig and I dig through the mess
I’m depressed
My moral's may be something
I silently put to rest
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path.
Feed on the dying,
**** off the living.
I'm not a good person,
It's not that hard to see.
I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path,
And when they find me out,
Like an apple picked too late,
I'm afraid they'll look down,
And throw me in the trash.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 7:48 PM UTC