tectonic platesthey’re youtectonic plates by YogaTeacher
lidded eyes and touch typing
singing out braille songs across
that isn’t yours to love
land that isn’t mine to carry
i’ve stolen away into nights,
to cry for a world
that doesn’t want me, that
calls me a name that isn’t mine
that says it is home
a land, still, that we need
with force enough to collide
infertile soil and barren ground
the same, together
to make amends
to make amends
for the human race
that boils away like cancer,
inside the lungs of a
that never asked for consciousness
that never wanted us
to try to love it, to grow spores
and choke it with our
anxious, selfish ways of
i hope i’ve been better than that
to make amends
for the angels that didn’t know
how to love me
black smoke wafting
from those that left
what we know of being young
to make up for
a heart that didn
VoidI want to tell you what’s wrong,Void by YogaTeacher
But I don’t want you in that place
That void, helping me–
He says that I love you too much–
If you can get me out of this bed,
I love you
–If I can’t do it otherwise,
Well, I should
You shouldn’t be so much to me–
Not because you’re leaving,
Not because I’ll have to go home
And homes are not made
In the gristle of others’ lives
What happened to me?
What happened to wishing, alone,
To withstanding lonely, for the freedom
To walk on my own water?
What happened to proving you wrong,
To the joy of you knowing I was right?
When did it turn into bartering–
Holding you and splattering tears,
–Tears to help you grow
When far away?
What happened to not needing anyone,
To being my own favorite person,
To not caring not caring not caring
What anyone was–
To keeping myself company?
What happened to
My own muscles and fabric
Knowing how to keep me whole?
Miasmayou’re tripping on phone chordsMiasma by YogaTeacher
bled into hours of dial tone ringing
sucking out senses from one voice
recreating a world in the cochlea
which now vibrates with dizzy silence
your spirals unfurling
shaking – every word out
and tripping as your liquid soul
leaks out your ears
I thought it’d be better than this
of course I did
I know you better than that
me, here, fitting into this
crease in the wall
what you take in before weeping
is limbo – solace
leeched out from the cobbled wings
made, given to you
before you learn to fall again
you’re going down now
I want to inch my arms
slowly across to contain you
a new shell, a new fragile spiral
to keep your flesh from spilling
out across the carpet
millions of salt sea sand grains
you feel your hourglass slipping
you see yourself as time
something to rush up against and
at when it slows, crawls,
between iron gates to your future
her singing calls
prayer icarusprayer by YogaTeacher
has always been a god-send
to those who know better than to think he’s a god
those aching swan hearts thinking
nothing is more than what it looks like,
we are saved, for nature is strung together with
the fibres of our beings
the world is stardust, is our dust
no matter how we long to hold on
but it is there, there
doesn’t need to be more than we see
refreshing, inkwells of cool water poured on the papyrus of my
a boy who understands
what it feels, to drift apart in morning
falling from human, to globules
of water and blood
blanki'm on the opposite couch and we're watching this movie and i can mimic every word she is saying, and every word he is saying, because they're everything we've already said, and i should not be watching this movie, at all, but especially not with you, and i'm trying to keep myself together, but as soon as it ends, and it's black in this apartment, i quietly stand up and walk into the kitchen, my safe haven, moreso than my bedroom or the living room or the balcony or the bathroom, it is here, always here, where i can release the pent up tears, and so i reach for a paper towel and tuck myself into the furthest corner, and i wipe away the tears, ready to enter the living room again but you approach me and you catch me up into your arms, and i want to push away from you, i want to scream at you YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME and the sick part, the sickest fucking part of this entire thing is that i honestly still do not believe you when you say you don't love me, and you're hblank by DamagedHomewrecker
The Lives of Petty ThievesJust like you, I couldn't wait to leave this place.The Lives of Petty Thieves by serendipityprincess
We drew lines across the map from point A to
anywhere we'd rather be but here.
We kept bags packed in the backseat, ready
To leave at a moment's notice, if we decided
Memphis called our names louder than
our worried mothers and fathers could scream.
You and I put ten thousand miles on that car;
We knew we were getting nowhere, but
we couldn't get there fast enough.
You told me we were born with gypsy blood,
ready to run.
I almost thought we were scared to stay in this damn town,
with the cobweb legacies and long-standing rivalries.
We weren't a tragic Romeo and Juliet, we could have been
together forever in a white house with a picket fence.
We could have had a family here, two kids and a hound dog,
beer on Friday nights with our friends
who swore they knew we were meant to be from the moment we met
when I was in love with your best friend and you
were scared to touch me.
I was a hurricane.
You were colder weather.
We had a whirlwind
e.e.cummingsThe day you left, I skipped school to see you off.e.e.cummings by serendipityprincess
I said, "There are more important things than school."
You said, "I never said there weren't."
Now, I mostly miss you, and usually on Sundays, I make my way to the place where we used to sit out Sunday School. There's still a Bible on the rock where I think you might have left it, and I pick it up and read it. I've never gotten past the gospel of Matthew, because every time I read it I see you staring at the sky and asking if Heaven's hypothetical.
There were stars in the sky that night, and you said you used to think they were god shining through a curtain.
Once we talked about Our Father who Art in Heaven and you told me that if you were a believer, you'd say both your fathers art in heaven, and hallowed be their names.
I remember the day I skipped fourth block, and we sat on the rocks and smoked. You told me it wasn't good to abandon my education, so you taught me e.e.cummings-
"I like my body when it is with your
I learned t
Writing FairytalesI told him, "I think I'll write a book."Writing Fairytales by serendipityprincess
He said, "Do it right, November. Write a best-seller and send me a copy with your autograph on the inside cover."
"I can do better than that," I promised, our fingers intertwined for the last time, "I'll write the best damn book you've ever read. It'll tell the story of lost love and lost innocence, of found friends and staying out too late on a cold night, and the story of endings without closure. It'll be about boys and girls and break-ups and hook-ups and how everything happens in the backseat of cars."
"They'll interview you on television because everyone wants to know who inspired the story," he continued, "And you'll smirk like you always do because you know the answer but no one else has a clue."
I laughed, "Everyone will cry when they read my book, because it's the saddest story that's ever been told. Everyone will cry but you and I won't."
"We can't cry. It's your book, and I can't cry for you. You can't cry for yourself either, it's ba
*Written for my blog, illianfragments.wordpress.com/ , and copied over here. I've been ghosting here for a long time, not sure if that will change, if dA is something I'll come back to and be invested in ever again.
As applies directly to this site, I made my Loki cosplay and wore it to ComicCon last year, and it was and is so beautiful, so detailed, and so precisely perfect. Rather than simply talent, I'm amazed with how detail-oriented I can be, and how driven when there is cause to be. I may soon post pictures, the few I have.
In other news, I am currently 18, going into second year university in BC, taking Creative Writing and Psychology. This summer, I've rewatched the entirety of Orphan Black (I can not speak highly enough of this show and truly recommend it - I tend to believe that there is enough good literature and film in the world that there is little that needs be rewatched or reread, and much that needs to be newly taken in, but Orphan Black has proven to be in the small percentage that I trust to be as meaningful the second time), and read and watched much besides. I've also collected every scrap of semi-insightful scrawled writing in one place, should I choose to transcribe it.
I’ve been away, I know that. My psychologist is saying it might be a good thing, and brings up how much pressure I put on myself. It’s interesting to see, the balance of pressure and of letting go; cycles of contract and release that fill out inside my head. I’m not sure how much I’ve done in the last little while, if it could be considered a lot. I spend a lot of time and energy catching up, moving into the recent past and trying to catch sight of the webs of movements, to then sort them out. I don’t want to say I have decided anything, figured it out to move into the future. Life is how it is. I thought, just now, of all those things people tend to regret when they die, that they’ve run out of time for. What am I sorry for? Having just finished To Kill A Mockingbird, it comes to me that children know something, they know how to fill out their days and not dwell on it, not think of having wasted time. I have spent a lot of time, and I have also gotten a lot done. These are two different scales in my mind, and achievement isn’t something to be measured against time. Time does its own thing, and achievement is measured against the self.
I won’t ever be a reliable person, in regards to deadlines and checking off lists and knowing what to do when. Recently, I was overcome with shame at a stupid mistake I made, a place where I miscalculated the world, and it complicated things for me and made me both disrespectful and irresponsible. Loki came back then, and it was comforting to have my god, a love who had disappeared from mind for a few months, stepping in to assure me. Moving forward is good even if my trajectory is wavering and I struggle.
It is not hard to be a person. Looking forward, I don’t fear the coming year. I don’t fear my prospects or my sanity. I believe in my ability to talk, to make acquaintances and develop friendships. I believe in my psyche, that I can go alone and enjoy as much with myself as someone else. I believe that the friends who now surround me are strong, are good, and offer something.
There’s an odd incompatibility in what I am saying and what I have been. I can be volatile, I can despair, I can obsess and lose control from obsessing. I don’t know how to stay happy. There is great strength for me in the idea of the Phoenix, a creature that burns up, and falls away, and is then reborn. I don’t know that shape of my life, or who I am within it, but there are two things I am aware of: that in some way, I’m always trying, and that I never cease to come back to a place of possibility.