To Create
To create
I have been itching to create something,
to have my fingers covered in bright paint.
I just want to make something worth loving.
Bright colored art to make life seem less quaint,
dull tones to assure you, it will be alright.
Paintings big enough to cover a wall.
Five sculptures, all worth being basked in light.
Too much art to fill just a single hall
I want to cover canvas with dark ink.
To make something that evokes emotion
With shadows and highlights that make you think.
Maybe it will be a dark, vast ocean.
All I can say is that until I do,
I must settle and cherish the sky’s blue
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maybe i should just stop talking. i want all of my secrets back.
"you are in his dm's, I am in his poems" we are not same bro.
friends for my tears
Tears, my greatest acquaintance
Left to dry on my balcony
I hope they mix with the guilt spilled on the railing
And that my tears find solace in the stress that stains the windows
And mingle with the blood crusted on the stairs
So that maybe, in some way,
Some part of me is joined with something.
Even if it is another part of my own self.
the little things
Sometimes, when I feel the way I do, I like to think about the little things.
The little things that make life worth living.
(at least for a while)
Like the way blushes grow on human cheeks.
Little things like the sound that can be only heard when rain and laughter marry.
Like lighting a candle while you start a new book.
The perfect little notification you waited all day for.
The way making someone else laugh sits on your chest for a while.
The way blades of grass fit neatly between your toes
The completion of a simple task.
The sound a dog’s collar makes as it walks.
(it's the little things)
It's the tiniest of things too.
The three-feet-distance between the desks of two friends.
That one freckles that girl you barely speak to anymore, but still makes you laugh.
The glitter in someone’s eye that just never leaves.
The smallest possible paper crane that you made in class last Tuesday.
(it's the little things)
It's also the big things.
Like the first kiss you had that really mattered.
Like the letter you never thought you’d get.
Knowing that she’s okay, even if you aren’t. Not anymore.
It’s the realization that you understand. Even though it's a bit too late
But most of all it's the little things.
in the pilot jackie teases shauna abt her “catholic phase” and to that shauna responds that she liked the saints bc she thought they were “so tragic”. in the last ep of s1 during their fight the first insult shauna calls jackie is tragic. she calls her other things too but its so intresting that the first thing she thinks of is tragic. to me thats like a freudian slip. jackie was shaunas saint.
*
j. sullivan
cannibalized by my own jealousy
Envy consumes like a starving fire, Devouring all that's in its ire, Ripping apart what's not its own, Gnashing teeth, breaking bone.
Claws reach out to grab and shred, Leaving nothing but crimson red, Territorial in its gruesome feast, Not a scrap left for even the beast.
Digesting every ounce of worth, Leaving only an empty dearth, Jealousy spares no part or limb, Tearing apart even the strongest vim.
A monster within, hungry and vile, Feasting on envy, keeping it on trial, Until it has destroyed all in its path, Leaving just a carcass, in aftermath.
Anastasia Trusova, “And the sunset came” Acrylic on canvas / 60 x 80 cm / 2022
Scraps from today
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