Distant Shift On Jupiter

Distant Shift On Jupiter

For the first time in years, you have shut me out of whatever you're doing in life, to say a pit did not drop heavily in my stomach would be a lie; Because.

I understand we are two separate beings, living our own lives, following different journies through an existence we cry over from time to time, but usually you are the most open person I know; Never hiding yourself away in a beaten box, tucked behind the dust of an attic.

Is it me?

Have we grown apart?

I'm overreacting, I know, but...this is so unlike you, I am baffled, completely taken back by your strange new silence.

Am I stupid to be hurt by such a small lack of information from you?

Yes...but I am.

You always tell me about your fear of us separating, of me departing from our 8-9 years of companionship, but dearest friend, it is I who is the most frightened; Afraid you'll leave.

One day you'll see me for the lazy-ugly-twisted asshole I am, tired of how I keep everything locked tightly in, angry over everything I did when we were younger; My greatest fear.

So silly, these pits I feel hollowing inside of my bones.

They keep appearing, each one getting harder to walk off; Offended by life.

I'm sorry; Not an apology, just a sorry excuse for a friend(Me).

It's amazing, your independence is stunning, you glow brighter everyday, you do not need me, I am but a heavy chain, weighing you down, far from reach of the magnetic fruits of life; Selfishly holding on, keeping you to myself.

Release the bugs you catch, they are living just as you, each a vibrant shade of stories; No you are not a bug, but a wonderful person in my life.

This is not me passing you the salt, this is me sharing the seasoning leaking through my eye sockets, the dumb feelings I do not share; Pathetically childish.

You don't have to tell me, you are allowed to keep things to yourself, just as I, I'm just a giant nose who wants to sniff around whatever you do not wish for me to smell; Curiosity inhaling it's way through private cords.

- Autumn(Me)

Redolence Of Regret

I like the scent of you lingering on me, coated in your sweat and mine, what an odd feeling, being tangled up in your essence, who would've thought I might have enjoyed such a cocoonly embrace from a stranger of delight dull touches and eyes that never stop staring no matter how much I look away; Or so I thought as my insides were an entangled twist of confusion, sensing that this picture just wasn't right.

I'm haunted by your scent, the date night aesthetic of cologne, ghosting through my nostrils as I try to forget you and the mixed up life lesson that you were, the nice smell makes me want to vomit as I get war flashbacks of your ever gazing peepers; Feeling like Akira as I beg to be left alone.

Your desires to be cute like the other people of society pushed me further away into the corner of your brother's couch, overbearingly cheesy in the most unattractive of ways, acting as if we're a couple, politely asking for a kiss from someone you haven't even known for a full week, as you ask me to look at you in those frightening eyes that never seem to close, attempting to guilt trip me with your self conscious fears of not being the prettiest dove amongst the majestic flock; Coming off far too strong with your “end goal.”

“Fuck you.”

I think that's all you ever really wanted to do with me, based on how quick and greedy you were to have me laying with you, your hands traveling over the body of someone you'll never have, thinking you're so sly and sweet; Sweating away in July.

“Are you okay with this?”

I said yes, told you that I didn't care to be in your embrace, but I think deep down in the slimy-sluggish-sensitive pit of whispered truths I fully did, it feels like an invisible boundary I wasn't entirely conscious of has been crossed, sending me in a downward spiralling loop; Curiosity encouraging and creating the discomfort as it whines for new distractions.

There is this area hidden away painted with your foot prints, it's a territory I wish I never let you dip into even if it wasn't sexually exposing, it's as if I did slide down each cloth and garment, revealing some foreign part of myself, leaving a sliver of me feeling not quite right amongst the remaining slices of my pan; Although I am uncomfortably tart and desolate, I can't solely put the blame on you, if I chose to explore.

-Autumn(Me)

09/02/2024

Pull Me Another

Wobbly resting in her pink slimy gingiva, a snake slithers by crooked teeth, sliding over the thin line that keeps them hooked in and from falling free; Oh, how she aches and yearns to be torn straight out.

The unexplainable urge to disconnect each one from inflamed gums itches through her short slender phalanges, it would appear this disturbing odd compulsion has beaten her sound normal logic; Impulse running wild.

Her hand intrudes upon her crowded mouth, slowly pulling out cavity infested molars, one rotten dental tissue at a time, a sticky icky suctioning pop as each little tooth detaches with ease, unhooked at last; Loosely stressed and dreaming.

Licking up the metallic ooze, as my tongue glides over the wounds, delighted yet frightened by the aftermath of curious fingers fiddling around with limp wiggly smile bones; Is this real?

What has she done?

A horrified tongue dribbled with regret rakes over her strange craving of work, dipping into the bloody holes and the leftover shards of what used to carry and be her uneven grin; They’ll grow back, right?

-Autumn(Me)

New Bird, Same Song

Good morning, oblivious bright bird, blissfully blind to my feelings, to my silence.

You flew right into my hands, singing an annoyingly cute tune, convincing me that I was beautiful, tweeting on and on how you want to fly around, wing to wing with me; A tired old tune of lies and disinterest manipulating a gullible heart.

A fool who never learns, always she repeats this lesson, the way she smiles as her young snotty heart bleeds, so disgustingly enjoyable; A masochist down on her creaky knees kissing fists of make-believe roses.

These thorns disguised as honey soaked green tea leaves, soaking beneath rotten pores, so sweetly bitter this game, this decaying plant upon the garden of possibilities; Endless crushes.

She mourns the death of this little sprout, for this one had the best smile, but beneath its young roots were nothing but weeds, poisoning her fertile soil of love, making her gag in guilt and shame; Uprooting a ghostly invasive green.

Goodbye, silly boy.

- Autumn(Me)

Unclear And Uncertain, Distressed Little Actor

My thoughts are cluttered, a mix of wants and needs, the desires of a dreamer clashing together with the realistic doubts of a pessimist, leaving me in a daze of hopeless fantasies as I waste away on my filthy mattress of hairy-stained-sweat; Time clicking by as she waits and watches.

“Where should I go? What should I do?”

I think and ponder instead of taking charge of my own life, pacing back and forth across the stage, fully understanding and confused that I am the lead in this play, but ignoring the fact that I am the writer, director, and crew as well; An original production called Carmen starring me.

“Where the hell is my script? How am I to know where to block?”

Instead of focusing on the production and all the behind the scenes work that must be done, I find myself captivated by the productions of others performed right a long side mine, lost in a jealous rage of mesmerization as I am dazzled away by their hard work and energy; Where do they find such dedication?

It seems at times that my play could never compare to theirs, take a look at those beautifully painted sets, each paint stroke tells a story somehow, remarkably handcrafted by deligent-independent-self-assured-calloused hands; Empty stares of the tools of potential, wastefully lying upon my vacant stage of possibilities.

Sleepless eyes burningly marvel as the deeply meaningful hues of light dance across each actor and set piece, how groundbreakingly perfect the way it all seems to align with their very essence, every color has a profound meaning that just brings the audience to tears, no real need for dialogue as you feel the story guide you along the stage with them, so powerful, this unspoken connection; Tearing apart another worthless-insufficient-insignificant script, scene by scene.

Lost between the edge of my delightful dreams and dreary doubts, I've twisted myself tightly in a stagnant web of indecision, stressing as time continues to flow even as I am stuck in my own shrill sticky threads of hopelessness, for I am both the spider and fly amongst these lines of thoughts, mashed together on a stage, as I close my eyes to imagine what could be if I detangled from this loud cluster of thoughts scorching my restless brain; Repeating this paradox that doesn't slow the clicks, as days turn into months of blissless slumber.

-Autumn(Me)

08/24/2024

An Unspoken Secret Yearning To Escape

There are words resting in my throat, choking me, wanting to be let out.

I'm scared of the aftermath that will come if I raise the volume of my thoughts; Purposefully unplugging my earbuds to let you all hear for yourselves.

What if you leave me?

What if you hear my disgusting thoughts and think me an ass?

You take each shakey pitch with venom as you clog up your eardrums; Perfectly placed cotton swabs.

If I don't speak up, I fear the worst, I teeter on the seesaw of internal death, the death of us.

But what if I said it all and things changed, it brings us closer, maybe carving open my mind wouldn't be so bad?

But I'm petrified that you're going to yell and take everything side ways, that you will think it all to be blame and slander; "A huge slap in the face to everything you've ever done for me, for us."

I hate bottling everything up in fear, I too am a hoarder, one of a different nature.

I just truly don't know how to fix us, I know there's a way, I just don't know which wire is the right one; Which one will cause us not to blow up and die?

I'm a coward who doesn't want to be the one to do it, to cut the wire that could help us heal, together.

My chest caves in at the thought of being abandoned for unshedding my tears; Opening up years of bottled anguish.

I'm just so tired, it hurts to see everyone suffering around me on mute, and I honestly don't like the thoughts that have been dashing around my head, they hold a knife up to my existence and whisper awful things; A twisted way of coping and solving everything.

What do I do, what do I say?

How do I keep us all together without you walking off into your mountainous forest of solitude?

Silently I weep at the thought of our band finally breaking up, each member angrily heading off in a different direction, walking home the true family way; Sitting alone in a quiet garage of abandoned-dusty-unique instruments.

Through tears I let the gentle melodies of our songs wash over me, it's torture to listen to my favorite hits alone, each memory bouncing off the lonely walls of my heart.

We don't need to crack and float away, there is no need to become Pangaea; Wait, just wait, I swear there's glue in this drawer or maybe...it's this one?

Will I raise the volume to my wellkept thoughts?

Clear my throat, raise my head up high, fixing my posture(for once), looking you each in your intimidating marbles, 3 pairs of brown and the lil odd man with the beautiful green orbs dancing in a mixture of many lovely shades, and release a tiny roar for your huge four-finger-lengthed foreheads to acknowledge?

No.

No, I will not be doing any of that, at least not with my voice, for my skills in writing far exceed the ones in speaking; Written material from the fierce-short-inner Centaur smoothly typed out as her tongue undoes a multitude of knots.

I spill to you this, my droplets of truth; A taste of the secret feelings I have imprisoned inside the dark shelves holding a fine collection of tightly sealed bottles within my heaving lungs.

Told to you through the freeing art of poetry; The Centaur is shy, having little experience in the domain of sharing and talking about the arrows currently kissing her skin, they've rested there for years, the blood has dried and dipped into her unwashed pores.

I am lost, searching for the safest way to pick out the splinters we have rooted deep within our skin; She doesn't know what to do, panicking under this overwhelming presence of frosty distance, stressful tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

How do I fix this?

Will sharing any of this help?

There are words scratching on the gummy insides of my throbbing neck, screeching to be freed, wanting to mix and mingle with the sounds of life, it kicks and strangles me, turning me green and blue, for I wish to vomit them loose on the carpet of our home, but I'm scared of the mess it shall truly make if I were to yack it all up for once.

- Autumn(Me)