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2.4k · Dec 2020
hanahaki disease
ari Dec 2020
my heart
beating for you
and blossoms
reaching up like hands from my pulsing heart
growing towards the sun,
(woven in the clouded sky)
flowers blooming upwards from my throat
clusters of amaryllis.
forget me nots
(please don’t forget me when I disappear)
florets and what not
dripping,
spilling
out of my mouth held wide open
as beautiful as fire,
stinging with blood,
sprouting from the cracks in between my teeth
how they flourish as I decay
reaching up until
my heart no longer
beats for you
ari Sep 2021
I'm made out of sunset
Of mirrors that smashed
I'm made out of nothing that is made to last
and if you know me,
I am permanently preoccupied with your past
the last line if a lyric from "swimming pool" by the front bottoms
566 · Dec 2021
the night we met
ari Dec 2021
i met you
in waves of song
a collective harmony that your heart played just for me
i stepped through the choruses sloshing across my feet
and saw you standing on an island alone
i stayed in the water watching your island
and at night we watched the same stars
burning brightly across the sky
and now i'm on dry land
and i'm the one with the SOS
507 · Dec 2020
Morning Mourning
ari Dec 2020
Morning glides its sticky honey hands
through your window
dances across your closed eyelids
Born into the sunlight that
Burns into you and
Pulls up your glazed eyes,
Pushes you back into your nightmare
sleeping is so elusive but at least it's peaceful
416 · Mar 2021
it's been four years
ari Mar 2021
constantly creating worlds, as delicate and beautiful as paper,
strokes of ink scrawled all over that dissolve in the sun
and get set on fire,
i lost the addresses and now I'm a creature of a  poem-tainted new world,
rotting in the sun and constantly setting my mind on fire
recycling the dead universes, I was being strung along
Its hard to believe that these places were my homes when now they just drift through my mind and come in my dreams
if i went back there i would probably break down crying
i don't belong there anymore
it hurts
I've had too many worlds that i lived in
411 · Nov 2021
poetic masochism
ari Nov 2021
lost in the lock of longing,
like a mother that never loved me rocking me to sleep
when all you can think about is
the stars in the frigid night sky
it can be hard to imagine the glow of the sun as anything but garish
but what when the stars disappear?
maybe i'll have to try to truly be happy again
347 · Apr 2022
hopeless
ari Apr 2022
i am composed
of rotten pomegranates
a rich stench of sweetness emanates from my pores
loose-limbed,
i am glistening, in my prime, about to free fall into my own undoing, like a flower slick with nectar
just waiting for the bees to swarm
reaching towards the sun
and, in vain, turning towards you instead

and i'm crumbling into desecration,
my honeyed blood churning
tripled suns
I swear my body is illuminated
I swear that i smell of flowers
and i know that i have reached the point of no return

so tear me,
your slender fingers
severing me from everything
everything i'm rooted in,

tear me away from the dark musk of earth


and fill your senses with my loosened aroma
as i fall away from grace
crumble into fire

and turn away from the sun one last time
ari Dec 2020
Hopeless,
That’s what I feel,
Helplessly falling for a stranger
As life consumes me
Like black acid
I wish to create words and worlds like flowers that sprout from my fingertips,
All I can see is the crumbling world around me
Helpless and hopeless
And you, the feelings grasp  to me like a sticky glowing light
And you become my world,
Like soft evenings and momentary pleasures,
And I fade away
And my love grows hopelessly
Like a rose in the empty void of space,
Consuming me and emptying me,
Having no affect on you, my love
All I can hope is that my name sticks around in your mind
It's not like I mean anything to you, I hope you know I exist but it's hard to tell
315 · Feb 2021
apocalyptic electronic
ari Feb 2021
you ache to sing
with human breathiness,
but no matter what
it comes out your burning throat
sounding like an electronic beep

the tears glitch as they fall out of your glassy eyes and crackle into your hands
you feel your atoms being muted, you are unable to show anyone your pain

soon it will be  12:29  
and you will hang suspended in glimmering darkness
the clocks miles below you will stop ticking
and if there is not a glitch you will drift up,
up into the pixelated clouds.
your atoms will malfunction and you will   power down
  
1:00 a.m and the remaining atoms, rusted and malfunctioning after centuries of use, copy and paste themselves just like they were programmed to do into a small body

a baby's eyes, a bright neon green just like the grass billowing in the world outside (except the most recent code was wrong, so they stand straight up, as tall and pointed as the remains of the skyscrapers)
blink open for the first time, awash in the colors and sudden coldness of the world

she opens her mouth and cries out a long electronic beep, echoing the machines that transferred her from the darkness.
the atoms swaddle her like they were programmed to do, soft and silky. the glitch will come later, when they tear at the seams and begin to accumulate their thousand-year rust.

In the years to come, she will envy the ones with fresh atoms and clear coding.

she will ask the important questions: on the best days with the soft electronic trill or contemplation,
and on the worst ones,
her remaining emotions struggling to conquer the coding,
the humanity in her pushing through walls and making her head spin
crying and fighting to be her own and not the creator's
her mind will fizzle until it explodes with emotion and her bones will snap (pain wasn't in the programming)
she will hear her voice for one of the only times in her life:
(i am dying and
fizzling away
in the cold and uncaring coding,
in the hollow wiring,
twisting the world into idyllic phrases:
copy. paste. save. delete. )
and this glitch wasn't meant to happen, these words may sparkle in the golden depths of you
and they may float in the burning remnants of your mind
but they were not in the blueprint.  

you can feel your feeling slowly dissolving,
flickering, slowly the buzz of the programming will drown every once of your humanity
one by
one
by one
a bit of a dystopian poem thingy.
ari May 2022
The joke was a fruit/crushed beneath the hand of the teller/in a surge of joy/it’s rich, ripe juices of spring flowing ceaselessly/raw bliss/ shimmering with mirth/and we don’t have to lower our bodies/and bite down to the core/to know it’s done it’s purpose on this world
ari Dec 2020
Welcome to eden
where fruit grows lush and ripening
Apples are everywhere
sweet sin and blooming night
Won't you follow me into the garden?
Sin is shining and burning and
Piercing into my skin without consequence except
The obvious one
Falling all around me in this heavenly nightmare
Welcome to eden
God is dead
And opening its flowers all around me
Is summer sadness
Where my soul is too big for my body
Buds and tainted polaroid pictures
Skateboarding and bleach tipped hair
Everything is destruction
Welcome to eden
Find or lose a person and make them your religion
Welcome to eden where
I was always Eve except now i’m the snake
ari Feb 2021
in fall, i saw you for the first time.
your hair was golden and you died it red like a rose
you would blossom quietly and exhale this stardust,
you were a streaky brightness
i would gaze at you, my heart was beating so fast underneath my sweater
i buried my love under a pile of leaves
and when i finally accepted it you were long gone
i would look for you in the stars, in the music, in the poetry
the way i handled my love was so awkward, so shy, so quiet
there were so many ways i could have tried to bring out a different ending
and so i fell in love with the idea of you, clutching you to my heart like a comfort

you would make me cry by doing nothing and i would still hold onto the starry ghostly nothingness of you
until my heart started to rot
i'll say it now
i love you
i love you
i love you
I wrote this back before you broke my heart. I still love this poem though, even if you were not the angel i thought you were
155 · Oct 2021
not the same, but more so
ari Oct 2021
I am covered in sticky black ink
in nightfall that traces the exact shape of my body
the world is dark with my eyes closed or open
i try to scrape it off and create poetry but i can no longer
it is a part of me
it is a bruise that blooms like sunset over my skin
with crushed stars lingering in my hair
and for years i craved you and cried
i thought you were concentrated hope
beautiful and just out of reach
i can flick the lights on
and see you as you are now
there is a fine line between hope and dread
147 · Jan 2021
past life: I'm a ghost
ari Jan 2021
One night,
I felt utterly hopeless,
And I screamed and
Drifted out of the house
Tears streaming down like stardust
Staring up at the stars and
Thought what do I want?
Not this life, not
This
And yesterday, I took a walk and the stars screamed and the night spilled into me
I love feeling like a piece of artwork but lately I’ve felt hazy
I used to have my place but now that we’ve dissipated from so many different homes
I no longer have
here

And now I just want to escape
143 · Jan 2022
Rather Riot Than Diet
ari Jan 2022
my rage weeps from my pores,
it ruminates from my skin like the stench of *******:
the red blur,
the fire,
the girlhood,
the wound.
i am
spitting up sparks,
exhaling crescendos and
flailing; a dying fish/girl
a frenzied howl, screaming herself into existence
because the noise in her head is too loud,
because a dozen things are being pushed into her mouth
and she'd rather puke
that sit and swallow
135 · Mar 2021
religion feels dead
ari Mar 2021
we are sitting on a roof,
hair billowing,
eyes darting
across the abandoned schoolyard
hoping some ghostly officers
won't scream at us to
come down from the sky
we are constant,
even when the inconsistent dreams melt around us,
when they tell us- god is a killer,
and the women are rotting in their brightly colored fabrics,
that the holy books are full of poison,
dripping angelic off the pages until they blind us for all to see,
that we are not muslims,
not christians,
nothing at all
except for empty bodies
connected in a rusted set of chains,
only eased by tears,
by rain,
by your bright eyes,
something almost holy
127 · May 2021
school
ari May 2021
The **** jokes/the derelict bathroom stalls etched with a million scribbles, organized chaos of a hundred girls screaming quietly/when they asked where we wanted to vacation he wrote anywhere but here and hit submit/sitting in the dark with grainy holocaust pictures on the screen and crying in the classroom/standing in the gym away from your group as the basketballs thump on the ground in constant rhythm and the girl staring at you, asking what are you wearing/crying even more in the bathroom/the "he never loved you" and better luck next time/walking home alone, cold and the trees whisper in the wind anywhere but here, fly away anywhere but here/

— The End —