Meaty Clutter

✒️🎨Meaty Clutter🎨✒️

Materials: Sketchbook cover, brush pens, and posca markers

I want to start posting my art doodles and nonsense on here, sooooooo

I Present My Doodle, Chrysoprase

💕😩💕😩💕😩💕

As Well As My Other Doodle, Burning Pile

Right All Along

Your words of supposed sincere honesty sit bitterly in my eyes, in my head, in my heart; Dissection of nothing.

“I'm sorry.”

You are sorry, so cowardly sorry for yourself that you're man enough to type out a text for me, dripping with just enough and so little that it passes off for a genuine explanation and peaceful exit for yourself; Thank you for your time and showing me the teeny ounce of care and respect you had all along for me, how considerate.

I'm glad that you're man enough to just cut me loose instead of continuing to lead me on through your sudden distance that I'm not blind from seeing, that you're no longer playing it off as being busy, but laying it down bare as not wanting me, instead of continuing to talk out of a pitiful obligation of fake interest and self guilt; It's nasty but true.

Something that you waited days after dinner to confess to me through a screen, when we both knew right then and there you didn't want to ever sit across from me at another table again, that very same night when the air between you and I became cold because you're a spineless little bitch who buys flowers for every whore you see after dark it would seem; Far too mad and clingy for your liking.

My smile clearly not special or working for you anymore, just as crooked and goofy as your long forehead of deceit, it begins to spin itself down at the very thought of you and your existence, every sweet or funny occurrence once looked upon fondly now slowly decaying beneath my ribs as it hollows itself in as it heaves, because I am a jackass who never learns, and you are a dick who knew all along that you had no time to fart around with me, but yet we both indulged; Tell me why that is, Darling?

I honestly wish we never met, wish my sister didn't love me to the point that she’d introduce us, that she wouldn't have my back like that when I tell her that I think that this guy is very pretty, wish that I kept my interest to myself so that we didn't have to go our separate ways; Crying over a heartache of nothing.

I have no direct response back to you and your text, only these words of insanity and sour nothings, because I was foolish enough to have feelings for a boy, a boy who is still young and lost, who isn't ready for a heart that's two sizes too mature; I too type things out like a coward.

The poor little guy is just as ugly on the inside as his truck is on the outside; Full slander of the broken blazer of dreams.

We should go our separate ways, you have a life, so flooded that you can not fit me in your tight schedule of nothing, I have a life, so chaotic yet I wanted to make time for you for nothing, you've upset me and pissed me off even if I haven't gifted you with such feelings, and I'm not sorry because I don't feel sorry for myself like you do for yourself; Complete agreeance.

- Autumn(Me)

08/09/2024

Confidential Favoritism

I wish I didn’t have a heart, that this loud organ would stop swelling up with an overwhelming care and deep interest for her world and the people who surround it; Craving hollow blissful silence.

How do you do it, walk around so casually nonchalant, dust puffing out from your skin as mine secretes with oozing-nervous-eager sweat, my heart smashing up against my meaty ribcage as you ignore me; Non-mutual gaze.

Locking myself in tightly to these black fuzzy cuffs, grinning as they strangle the veins of my pride, impatiently awaiting the attention of a big loser, savoring each fiery shot you sharply spit back, loving the way it spills from your darkly distant digits; New twisted leash.

It’s cold and quiet, this lobby you leave me to sit in for hours, twiddling thumbs as I look for my favorite pair of eyes, jealously tired when I read they’ve wandered off to other harlots tied around your pretty pink leashes, I fiddle with the collar questioning it all, and yet the moment you walk in you set pants passionately ablaze, happily wagging my tail as you give me my 30 minutes of fun; Your secret wish, maybe even mine.

Of all the whores in my collection on the internet, you set my skin burning in the brightest of rosey leaky flames, my cheeks flushing the shiest of pinks as I bite down onto my dry lips, chewing on the peels of red bloody flesh, fighting back a big dorky smile, because you’re secretly my favorite hoe, the best tool in my fluorescent shed; A cheesy disgusting truth from the long dirty sleeve of my artery clogged heart.

So different from every single one, the way you speak to me only further intriguing my annoying interest in you, for you are not a sweet little gummy bear, fully willing to gift me picnic baskets upon picnic baskets of sugary compliments, no, you are a deliciously-salivating-sour gummy worm, wiggling through with banter filled soil as you wriggle your way up my thoughts; Picking rude Sour Patch Kids over kind Skittles.

As my tongue waters and pinches, my heart shaped boat sinks down knowing that you do not feel these extremely insane overbearing rotten feelings, for I am delusional as I suck and lick away all the addictive candies you tease me with, stubbornly returning for more neglectful tricks and treats from your beautiful brown orbs; Stupidly entranced by the grumpiest of hoes.

Was this fun and creative enough for you, captivatingly entertaining, border line insane, my liege?

- Autumn(Me)

Dipping Into Restless Stupor

Every part of my body is frozen except for my Brain, slowly it comes to the realization that only half of us are awake, a panic builds its way through my system as stress begins to settle in; Sleep Paralysis, again.

Doing it's best, she tries to get everyone else to rise from their slumber, for what if she is the only one awake for the rest of their existence, what happens if the other members of this body don't get back up, would anyone on the outside of this begrudgingly resting form know of this motionless dilemma?

Looking around through closed eyes there are no demons glowering at her still feet, just the darkness hugging tighter as she begins to sweat, trying with all her muster to get any limb that she can to move an inch, any sign of life to ease her out of sleep; The true frightful sight.

It's very slow as rock like limbs do their best to glide across the sheets, each muscle taking their sweet time to untighten as they spark back to life, sluggishly fighting against the powerful tugs of slumber as she forces her body up, eyes dryly burning to return back to the land of dreams and subconscious thoughts that sneak their way inside; The true battle begins.

Without realizing it, her body slips back into the comforting yet fuzzy haze that leaves her Brain in a chaotic frenzy of fear, dragging each stem of creaky sweaty joints at an agonizingly listless pace, hyper focused and strangely aware of the empty blackness she resides in, feeling like an eternity while she finally pulls out of the dreary-warm-night-starry sludge with all of her might one last time; An accidental slip of consciousness.

- Autumn(Me)

09/20/2024

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)