the yellow brick road

trigger warning: potentially disturbing imagery.

come on. just do it. just follow the yellow brick road. and smile, and laugh, and pose, as the glitter falls like rain, and the harp music plays. and come on. you can do it. just pretend you don’t notice the pain.

put on your pretty red shoes. adjust your gingham dress. and off you go. just like the stories said. and if you ignore the screams in the distance, or the rot writhing inside each and every magic pumpkin… it’s kind of beautiful. isn’t it?

and the vultures swoop down for what’s left of you. and you bite back a scream. but this happens all the time, you know. because you silly little girl, just do what you’re told. just keep walking. just let it go.

just take deep breaths. and ignore it, when the thoughts come for you, sharp needles piercing your skin. fumble for your thimble, and clean out the wound as best you can.

and it doesn’t matter what makes you comfortable. it matters what’s in right now. so curtsy, and adjust your lipstick, and you’ll figure it out somehow.

psychedelic colours. and maybe it’s a daydream. maybe it’s a nightmare. but this can’t be happening. not now.

or at least that’s what you tell yourself. as the blood dribbles down your knee. and it red stains on your shirts don’t even surprise you anymore.

as you stare at the ticking clock on your computer. watching. as you get older, and older…


This is gonna sound really self-congratulatory, but I’m actually so proud of this piece, I don’t think I’ve ever written anything like it before. And that feels good. Really, really good. I don’t know if I’ve felt this proud about a piece in a while. I don’t really know where it came form, I don’t know

 

html

pixelated visions of a perfect world. and what’s happening anymore? because i honestly don’t know. pinterest fashion,  tumblr memes. the same song on loop for, hours on end.

and yeah, i know i’m not alone. i know there are a thousand people out there who might be feeling the exact same way but that still doesn’t change that i am still stuck at home.

and that the birds sing, the wind blows, and jesus fucking christ, is there even a world out there beyond hex colours and html code? because at this point, i honestly don’t know. and i shudder with exhaustion, leaning into these dusty bones. and i don’t want to look on instagram. i don’t even want to turn on my phone. i just want to see you again.

but i can’t. not now.

i know.


So not to sound like your fifth grade health teacher who definitely got more than the designated two seconds of screen time we were supposed to have at that age, but… screen time has actually been, in all seriousness, really weird for me of late. Since my entire life exists on either my phone or laptop, it’s not really hard for me to spend, like, my entire day just sitting there in the same room and barely moving at all. Sometimes I forget to eat, almost every night I end up staying up far too late than is healthy panic-editing or panic-writing something or other, trying to think through my exhaustion–I guess what I’m trying to get at is after day after day of that, it all sort of starts to blur. Everything goes by in fast-forward and slow-motion at the exact same time. And suddenly, it’s like you’re not sure where you begin and where your work, and this artificial thing ends. And you feel fake, and shallow, and I don’t know. It just sucks, and it’s what I drew on as I wrote this poem. And, um, I should have some smart important things to say right here other than that but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open actually so, um. Yeah, basically the TLDR is that I’m a mess and I keep dissociating because my entire life is working now and wrote this as a way of getting all those icky feelings out a little, even though I still struggle with this a lot to be honest. Also, lockdown is a bitch.

I hope you’re all doing as good as you can be. I hope today is a good day for you. I hope a lot of things, I guess. I don’t know, the 1am brain is working and there is a 200% chance this whole post is incoherent but I am just too tired to care right now.

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

i don’t want to think about it

i’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, but hey. at least i can drown my thoughts out with high quality television. or books. or youtube. or anything. anything to make it stop. because when you hit the pause button, how come it all comes to a stop, and the thoughts in my head start to pick up, and suddenly i’m falling off a cliff so watch me drop

              drop

                             drop.

because i don’t want to think about all the things in this world i don’t know. about the emptiness thrumming in my bones, or about how no matter how much i accomplish i still feel like i’m 11 years old, not sure who i am, and drowning in my own lack of self control, and god. could someone please just call me beautiful?

and i’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, but that’s all right. i mean, i’m pretty sure it’s normal.

and it’s all healthy, teenager stuff. you just need to learn to let go, let go, let go. jump off the ledge, and feel your hair whip in the wind, feel your mind start to bend. and just… just try to forget about it. because it’s not going away any time soon.


Wow, reading and editing poems I wrote ages ago is… a trip. It’s weird–how everything has changed and yet still stayed the same all at the same time. It sounds dumb, but I miss even feeling like this.

february 23rd, 2020

you smile. as your fingers melt away into the snow. and as the paper flowers you gave me start to crumple, and wilt. as time continues to fucking flow.

and i’ll make it perfect. because i swear to god, i’m sorry for every crumple, every crack in my soul. 

and i’m sorry i wasn’t the supergirl you wanted me to be. i’m sorry i couldn’t fly, couldn’t lift up the stone columns as they fell under the weight of the sky.

i know. i know. i failed you, all right? you don’t need to say it again, until the words are etched into my bones.

but it’s a lot, okay. expecting the world from yourself every single day. staying up so late that in the morning, your eyelids sorta turn to stone.

chiseling away the last remains of baby fat from your cheeks with a kitchen knife and letting

it

go.


It’s been… a really hard week. I don’t actually remember when I wrote this, it’s been in my queue since dinosaurs roamed the earth probably, but… oof. This pretty much perfectly describes how I’m feeling right now.

you don’t deserve any of this

so self-centred. i can’t believe you’d do this.

so go on. take a bow. and rip your skull to pieces, and drop it on the ground, because i don’t know who convinced you that you matter, but they were wrong. 

your mind is a slippery slope. and it’s time you resigned yourself to the fact that eventually, you’re gonna fall.

because you don’t deserve any of this. so shut up. stop whinging about your problems.

it’s time to go.


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