Latest Posts by boxoflives - Page 2
Anastasia Trusova, “And the sunset came” Acrylic on canvas / 60 x 80 cm / 2022
she has little moon earrings- i have star clips in my hair. she goes to the local community college and plans on transferring to the major university- im in a sorority and my life is intertwined in the large school's greek life. she's a local- im seven hours away. she grew up on vast expanses of land, caring for life and surrounded by her family's love- i grew up in a cluttered house that sucked the soul out of anyone who dares to enter and every time I go home i lose a little part of myself. she listens- i talk. she calls be pretty and for once, i believe it. she smiles and i laugh in her tiny car and we stare at each other in the lamp light of a small parking lot after missing our desert reservations. she walks me to my car and we both ask if we could kiss each other, our laughter ringing in the air next to the papa john's we had to bathroom break in because we asked at the same time. she hesitates so i pull her in and it isn't rushed or desperate, it's just gentle and full of potential for something beautiful and she cradles my face and my hands are on her hips and we're next to my beat up car. she tastes like the chocolate milkshake from earlier that night and i can only assume i taste of the cigarette i smoked earlier on that she called "hot". she is a middle child and im the eldest and we still talk and she didn't ghost me and oh, I think something beautiful can come out of this.
it's not like nikola tesla knew all of those people were going to die by Hanif Abdurraqib
I saw her sitting on the shoreline by the sea collecting small shards of light that sparkled in infinity, tiny twinkles that flickered in my eyes, and set the sweet night sky a light.
Her gown looked like a thin veil of fog with little fireflies floating about shrinking and growing while glowing then blinking out. Her hair was adorned with a fresh multi-colored crown of flowers intertwined with thin shifting vines that seem to be alive.
A cousin to the creatures a buzzing, childlike being with transparent wing fluttering, while thin limbs orchestrated the music mother nature layered, sounds of clicking critters, and rhythmic raindrops, with winds whooshing through the leaves and I could just barely see the silhouette of other fair folk and their family moving in unity, obscured by the beauty of mother nature’s natural graces.
Twas a night of strange delights, and I was drunk with awe from what I saw, until with a panicked thrill I witnessed the night succumbing to the burning sun’s unrelenting hunger as it devoured the eve’s softness and replaced it with heated harshness.
All that was mythic and mystical left and in its stead the mundane came to claim my befuddled mortal brain.
-2023
"you are in his dm's, I am in his poems" we are not same bro.
not enough e. e. cummings appreciation on this website. reblog if youre a true cummer
what if we got lost in the woods & performed dark rituals & engaged in homoerotic acts of cannibalism to survive the frozen winter (and also we were girls)
Thoughts
Life is so boring rn and my poems are not slaying so I might start writing fanfiction.
first base is putting your cigarettes out on each other second base is psychosexual obsession third base is murder-suicide
The Conflict of Guinevere
Viktor Zaretsky - Tatyana (ca. 1980s)
If we were villains
Just finished if we were villains and let me just say, oh my goddddd!!!! I literally almost burst into tears at the ending. The way the characters were portrayed was amazing and every single one of the journeys they went on as humans was so touching and approachable. I have no words to describe how this book made me feel.
i am she. nail biter. skin picker. pube plucker. lip biter. eye crust flicker. knuckle cracker. eyelash puller. leg bouncer.
Door open in my room
Now I lie in my bed
my window is open wide
I don’t have to be outside to feel the cool breeze
I can hear so much
The wind
The birds
My dog’s breath
My pen on paper
Leaves rustling
Cars rushing by
My brother’s laughter
And the tapping of my own fingers
The sky is turning purple
With the purple comes comes a cloud of calm
And a gust of joy
I want it to stay this way
(Perfect temperature, perfect sounds, perfect peace)
Forever.
maybe i should just stop talking. i want all of my secrets back.
Free my woman she did all of it but I don’t care
Today I woke up
our last summer on the river
The air smelled sweet, of growing green
And flowers bloomed, their beauty serene
Birds chirped, as if on cue
As we dived into waters blue
The water ran with ease and grace,
A world so still and full of place.
As we grew up, we came of age,
Our path ahead, a turning page.
Our hearts would race with each new thought,
The tides of life we'd brave and sought.
And as we witnessed the river flow,
We found ourselves with more to know.
Through twists and turns, our stories formed,
A tale of love and life adorned.
As dreams took shape and hearts were won,
The summer's light had just begun.
On that river's edge, we found our way,
Our lives transformed with each new day.
And though we'd soon be far apart,
The memories etched within our heart.
Our summer days, we'll treasure long,
For in its embrace, we grew strong,
And as we bid farewell to our youth,
We'll always know, our bond is the truth.
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.
silly goofy post
one thing about me is that I WILL be trying and failing to rhyme, just for sillies.
Art Museum
In halls of wonder, vast and bright,
Where colors swirl and dance in light,
Where walls stretch high and ceilings soar,
And stories whisper through each door.
Each brush stroke whispers of a tale,
As if the canvas begins to exhale,
A hint of passion, a shred of pain,
The artist's soul within each frame.
From abstract splashes to portraits grand,
The beauty of the world at hand,
In every brush stroke, every hue,
A story painted just for you.
With every step, with every breath,
A masterpiece in every depth,
A world of wonder, there to see,
In each exhibited symphony.
So come and wander, lose yourself,
In halls of magic, in halls of health,
For the joy of art is always here,
In every image, every cheer.
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