Explore a life cycle in some kind of writing. for example, you could use metamorphosis, diapause/hibernation, paedogenesis [very weird], puberty, the salmon life cycle, the amphibian life cycle, or something else entirely! you don't have to be direct-- just start here and get inspired.
start from the beginning
dig her up
see? it can't be that hard
feel her teeth underneath your fingertips
hear the thrum of a jaw clenched tight
ignore the crumbs of dirt and soil and things that shouldn't even be solid at all
carefully put two and two together
run over the instruction manual an extra time,
be sure to pry every orifice open
so when you've got something resembling a terrified child
and you've finally got her back in your arms
don't you dare close your eyes, and
crush her skull all over again
all in the name of progress
all in the name of progress
Write about a worldly place that is a threshold for you. This can mean anything-- maybe it's some place between end and beginning, forward and backward, past and present, here and there, friends and lovers, or something else entirely!
tw: talk of suicidal intent.
I was 16, and nothing worked. Ran up the same hills everyday with busted legs, cursing myself for falling over & the lactic acid moving me out of body. I could feel my organs shutting down, one by one.
So it was Berlin that i begged would save me, and i followed her to a hotel room. Putting on my big boy boots i walked all day, i saw all day. But that stupid city is just built on concrete and doomed history.
I went to eat dinner, but i could only taste the heartburn. I went to the museum, but it was only about the cold war. I went to the hotel room, but the mini bar was only stocked with liquor. The cafes served me tarred cigarette butts, a la mode. And her cough reverberated through my body.
So Berlin gave me the last she could, and she gave me a bathtub.
The fire burned so cold. Out of the tub rose the flames, higher than the walls allowed. Cradled into the porcelain i begged the fever to finally just fucking warm me. A romantic rendezvous with the flesh and the ceramic.
And she promised me what i wanted. Hovering over my stiff body, a single slip threatening to crush me.
Lips against my ear, breath with hint of a fire. Say my name: i can be yours.
The water burned so cold.
I emerged dry.
Write about what ways writing plays a role in your life-- why do you like it? is it hard? What's your relationship with it? Be as abstract or direct as you'd like.
I've always written, or as long as i've had the notes app on my first phone.
When i started my relationship with writing was very different from how it is now. Back then it was mostly 'I AM SAD. I AM UNIMPORTANT, YET IF I MAKE A MISTAKE THE WORLD WILL COLLAPSE. I AM MISERABLE AND SCARED'. It wasn't very fun to read for either myself or others, so i never showed it to anyone. But i needed it at the time. I wrote and wrote my wailing cries, closed the notes and never opened them again.
Nowadays i can't find catharsis through just going 'I AM SAD!!!', instead i have to confront the feelings in me, and weave something out of it. And so i still write. I don't think i'm the best at it, but i don't really mind.
I also share these note app excerpts nowadays, which is strange. But in a good way. Poetry helps me preserve this feeling of anonymity, false or not it may be. I get to talk about my feelings in a way that doesn't need to be strictly autobiographical. I've found that as long as you are emotionally honest the intents themselves usually shine through, regardless of the words used. I can show my face, without showing my face.
I do think i'll always write. Whether it be 'I AM SAD!!!' or something longer than that, whether i'll show it to others or keep it in the notes app; i don't know. Guess only time will tell.