play the hero

the woodsmoke contaminates our lungs.

because no matter how hard i fight, in the end i’ll always lose you. i was never cut out to play the hero. but what else am i supposed to do?

so i stay up until 2am, painting the glass ceiling a perfect shade of blue. even though my mask, i can still smell the paint fumes.

but i will keep going. i will ignore the blinding sunrise, digging its pins and needles in my eyes; i will grit my teeth, and push through…

but i don’t understand. how come the rivers of poison always seem to follow you?

periwinkle blue

roll down the window. so i can feel the summer air whisper sweet nothings against my cheeks; hear the laughing children; smell the red-hot gasoline…

because if you just look right into the sun, until your retinas start burning up, don’t you miss the good old days so desperately, when everything was perfect, and you were young?

when you were miserable, and lonely, and dumb…

so take me back. to a time when the sky shone a gorgeous periwinkle blue, as the leaves pirouetted off golden-brown maple trees. when you nudged my shoulder, and i smiled back at you.

to pink gingham dresses; love letters, and morning dew. a fairy tale kiss that never even happened.

but god, do i miss it…


Hey guys! I’m so sorry about how this post came out before it was actually done, now you know how terrible my rough drafts are? Ack, I’m super embarrassed, basically what happened is I had been working on a story chapter for, like, five hours straight or something ridiculous, and I was way too tired to finish blog posts and have anything good come out of it, which is a problem I really need to deal with, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I scheduled it to come out at 9am on Monday, and got up at 8, but I didn’t finish it in time, walked away from the computer, it came out automatically, I freaked out, scheduled it to come out at four, but at four I was on the phone and completely forgot about it, so it came out again, and now here I am finally fucking editing this properly, and hopefully this coming out on Friday isn’t too much of a let-down. I’m so sorry for the confusion, I hope you like the poem anyway 🙂

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

03/16/2020


In this episode, I talk jobs, university, confusion, and the expectations that come with growing up.

Song is “A Cool Rainy Night” by Mike Durek. It is found here (https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Michael_Durek/Piano_Music_for_The_Broken_Hearted_1221/03_A_Cool_Rainy_Night), and used according to this license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/).
It has been edited by me.

“Mimos Menguados” is from patrickdeartegea.com  and has also been edited by me.

Need to talk to anyone? Find a crisis line in your area here: https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

All songs have been edited by me.

All sound effects made by yours truly! 🙂

The next episode will be dropping next Friday, 9a.m. PDT–make sure to subscribe/follow/add this podcast to your library/enable notifications on it to be notified when it comes out.

Find me on all my internet places here: https://linktr.ee/dragonwritesthings

And find this podcast all over the web here: https://linktr.ee/sonnetsofateenagewannabe

dizzy

one step closer. just… one step closer, through the nausea and confusion. this is your life. and you’re going to ruin it.

acid raindrops falling to the ground. close your eyes, and cover your mouth.

swallow down the vertigo. just keep walking up, up, up. just keep it up, up, up. and don’t you dare let it drop.

no matter how much i scream, i still can’t make the fire alarm turn off. lightheaded and dizzy, in the smoke pressing in around me. now am i grown up?

because i’ll never get to take this back. and there’s no time to mess up.

24 degrees

the humid air snuggles up close to me. and stays there. and my blood starts to come to a boil as i look into your eyes, because i hate you even more than i hate myself tonight. furious tears, dripping off my chin one. at. a. time.

and you know, they say the skies are rife with disease. say it’s never going back to normal. not completely. and some days, i can’t help but wonder. if this step could be the butterfly that causes the tsunami. if this is going to be the last time you get to see me…

they say i’m withering. like a parched august flower. and you know, maybe it’s time to empty out the vase. rather than just changing the water.

they say i am parched soil after a long, hot wildfire. crumbling under the slightest pressure. 

and the steam seeps into my lungs, air too thick to breathe. and little girl, is this too much for you?

because if this is enough to scare you… then you haven’t seen anything.