"a Prophesy"

"a prophesy"

Those worn eyes sought it.

Craved it with biting teeth and a carnivorous appetite

Lusted for the illuminating show in back-alley lights

Like a sinful dweller hooked upon the next hit, inhale, high

Addicted to the climactic downfall

Prophesied to repeat itself

-lauren a.p

to have a home.

I long to be middle-aged

To do taxes and dishes and laundry

And a house to call my own

To paint and ornament and inhabit

To plant and sow the seeds necessary for it to blossom

Blossom into a home

Where i'd never be a stranger

And i'd always have someone to sit with as i'd eat my lunch

03.11.24

-lauren a.p

the grounding of the five senses

She tells me to ground myself

In an order to escape the realities that scream perversion into apathetic ears

Five sights, Four feelings, Three sounds, Two scents , One taste

A tree, a bottle, a child, a pen, a bed

My skin, its scars, a permanent frown, the age lines of someone far too young

A simple song, my uneven breaths, static

A fading cologne and fresh nicotine

Blood upon my tongue

-lauren a.p

my life was never the same after reading “the only trick of friendship, i think, is to find people who are better than you are. not smarter, not cooler, but kinder and more generous, and more forgiving and then appreciate them for what they can teach you and try to listen to them when they tell you something about yourself no matter how bad or good it might be, and to trust them, which is the hardest thing of all. but the best, as well”

A little excerpt from something unknown (04/24)

“This cannot be real, can it?” 

She had questioned him as though he were pansophic, omnipotent and all-knowing far beyond what was capable in the realm of mere humankind. In a world damned by lustful sin and sensual greed and an otherworldly pleasure that could never be experienced in a haven devoid of wicked nature. Living on Earth, as a slave to temptation and morality, was a double edged sword as  hedonism was almost as sweet as the possibility of a golden life-everlasting. 

Her fingers pinched the rough skin of her own elbow to see if she’d awake from this seemingly dream state she’d succumbed within for the past five, fleeting days. Had she slipped away far into a dissociation that’d fail to relinquish her from its grasp, and instead enveloped her into a psychotic episode that’d confused a fictitious want for reality? Was she lucid dreaming, having only had her eyes closed for five minutes, and it was truly only Wednesday night with her numb body laying horizontal in an unmade bed? Or was this an actuality, not a figment of imagination conjured up by that villainous mind that had cursed her to a hopeless truth that loneliness had become her shadow and plagued every step she took, rain or shine? Regardless of this moment’s existence in the plain of modernity, she prayed she’d never awake nor escape the embrace she currently resided within. 

“I am still here, aren’t I?”

He always responded to her questions with another inquiry, as though he knew she understood the truth to what she was investigating with intrusive thoughts. 

-lauren a.p

Welcome Mat

My voices falter in the presence of those I love

My autonomy, my passions, my endeavors

I grieve for them through the shedding of my outer layers:

My namesake, my belonging, my identity

Who am I, if not a servant?

Crawling upon hands and knees as I plead to obey

Licking the crumbs at unaware feet idly stepping on my hair as if I were a welcoming mat

I’d give it all up to be loved.

-lauren a.p