Young Writers Society

Goals:

30 Poems
All Badges (?)
Try at least five different styles of poetry.

i. thinking is a disease (that can't be cured)
ii. adrenaline veins, bloodstained hands
iii.
iv.
v.

Can't wait to read your poetry Pol! if your free verse's are that amazing, I can't wait to see what else you have in store!!

i. thinking is a disease (that can't be cured)

thinking is infectious weeds
reaching out with tangled fingers
and scraping along the grooves of my brain
in order to clear the impurities there

(thinking itself is
the impurity
rotting, festering,
in my head)

sometimes i turn up my music to the
maximum and slip on my headphones
only to turn it all off and
marvel at the silence

(but it's not really silence, there's
the television humming quietly
in the background
and parents screaming
in the basement)

imagination is the bane of my life
why imagine better situations
if i can't reach out
and pull myself into one?

(misery loves company
but even the company i hold
cannot catch the attention
of misery or me)

i berate myself for thinking
but i don't actually think
i see noise suspended
in a canopy of black veined red

and i hear colors
and shapes
like fireworks
in my head

(thinking is overrated anyways
thinking is a disease that cannot be cured
and thinking about thinking consumes my thoughts
and turns my brain to mush

so i think...
i just won't think anymore.
thinking is a human fault and well
i don't think i'm human anymore.)

ii. adrenaline veins, bloodstained hands

everything is backwards,
and i do not understand
why it is so.

is it paint
running through my veins,
sluggish and slow?

or is it adrenaline
running through my veins,
liquid gold, silver quick?

(quick gold, liquid silver?
liquid gold, quick silver?
my knots are tied in tongues

i mean my tongues are tied in knots)

moo moo,
brays the pig

chirp chirp,
squeaks the cat

bark bark,
purrs the snake.

wait.

that's not right,
it's all backwards
and twisted
around into hsirebbig

(but who am i
to decide what is right
and what is wrong?
what is falling forwards
or jumping backwards?)

my hands are dripping
with adrenaline
and i think i am bleeding
from my veins.

(spilt across stark white marble,
why must you hold the knife to my throat
while proclaiming your everlasting love?
we both know it's a scam anyways.)

stare in the mirror and hope it doesn't stare back at you,
tilt your face to the left, tilt it to the right and hope
your features don't change with every ripple of light

(and it does, but what are you going to do about it?
your hands are stained with blood, both mine and yours,
do not forget this, and i will not forgive it
for forgiveness does not run through adrenaline veins
on the topic of bloodstained hands, both mine and yours.)

iii. toxicity (lime blood in my mouth heart)
TW: cursing, slur, mentions of racism

iv. freud, fraud, what's the difference? you're fake, but you're also my doctor

TW: drugs.

you're insecure, you're insecure.
(ignore the fact i'm the one
who's afraid of their own skin)

you're a fraud. a fraud, i declare.
(i am shoving freud's theories down my throat,
like rot-sweet cough medicine)

push bad thoughts to the back of my mind
(it's not repression! just unwanted memories
and who are you to diagnose me? i don't see no PhD)

you give me little white pills to make me feel better
(they'll drown me in a sea of numb,
where have my fingers gone?)

it's the drugs -you- dragging me down
(it's totally not rot-sweet cough medicine,
drunk in doses of bottles)

my pen keeps slipping out of my grasp, can't hold on with dead grip
(and there it goes again,
falling out of my hands and clattering on the floor)

v. ocean blue, honey gold.

he fell in love with
honey gold and amber
(scorching hot tempers)
but little did he know
that the sea liked him better.

wax drip,
drip
drip
dripping
down moonkissed skin
leaving red freckles (it burns-) in
it's wake.

the sun reached out
for their lover
hands grazing on another
before
s l
i p
i n
g
away
like a fish
in oily waters (coating everything in toxic slime.)

whooosh.
wings beating frantically
to no avail against
the harsh winter winds (stinging brand new burns)

the sky stares at him
in awestruck terror (syrupy eyes wide),
as if they could not believe
they let him go
and did not believe (smile small and apologetic)
they could catch him
before he struck waters below.

the world turns white
as feathers fall, dancing
in the air around him
blissfully ignorant
of his failings.

the sun stares at him,
hands outstretched
but arms below catch him,
water slapping away the
circling sharks
and dragging him down.

blue eyes stare at him (mouth quirked up in a small and apologetic smile)
oily water cradles his body (coating him in warmth)
and the face that stares back in calm in manner,
gaze as serene as a glass mirror lake
and twice as blue.

he fell in love with
honey gold and amber
somebody with scorching hot tempers,
but the sea had liked him better.

vi. obsessions

obsessions are
repeated thoughts, urges,
or mental images
that are intrusive
and often unwanted

you walk through the halls,
confident. calm. collected.
popularity if popularity was a person.
and i cannot help but compare
myself to your shine.

i know where your classes are,
you thought you could leave me behind?
i know your birthday, your blood type,
and your social security number.
i know more about you than you do.

i know where you live,
i know each and every one
of your siblings by name.
i like to sit and watch you sleep.
oh, too much?

good thing you don't know that-
oops, almost said it!
i'm not very good at keeping secrets,
am i?

who am I?
you don't know!?
i'm your biggest fan,
your future one and only.
i'll chase you til you love me.

you say i'm obsessed,
but you're not an unwanted thought,
so i say i'm just in love.

(an obsession,
one that won't leave my head.
I think you like living there,
free rent. I'm not obsessed,
i'm merely
falling.
in love)

vii. fall of a queen

CW: violence, animal death.

she stares from on top of her obsidian perch,
curiosity sparking in deep purple eyes.

who are these beings,
that intrudes on her realm,
slashing into the soft yellow stone
that makes up her home?

they are bright, shining splendor,
(like bright, bright fires)
in glowing scales, glistening various colors.

they stand on a platform,
staring up at the island and taking no notice
of the graceful queen who is pondering them.

another appears,
missing half their scales
but still shining oh so brightly.

she startles at that,
squinting closer.
what kind of being does not have scales
and what in Void's name are those garish orange lumps on their head?

they begin to creep forward,
laying unusual red and brown stones on the floor
and walking across. where are their wings?
they must be hatchlings,
to be so young without their wings.

she flies forward,
overjoyed at the prospect of hatchlings.
they notice her, waving sharp talons
in her direction.

something fiery strikes her side,
piercing through a chink in her scales
and ripping through flesh.

she yelps, wings flaring awkwardly
in order to let dragon's breath mist gently over them.
she's friendly, why don't they see that?

maybe because they are too small,
their eyesight is poor?

another wave of sharp needle pricks,
washing over her body.
most bounced right off but
a few found refuge in her muscle.

she spread her wings,
smacking two and sending them flying across the island.
they disappear in a wink of purple particles,
reappearing on the ground.

a crystal explodes and her chest heaves
as she takes far more damage than she is accustomed to.
her health does not come back and she stares, bewildered,
at each of her perches.

gone.

every last crystal.

she attempts to land on the rock in the middle,
but several claws scratch her,
as if these little hatchlings
are trying to rip her into two.

she's tired,
but she tries to land again,
to explain that she is friendly,
why are they attacking?

they are relentless,
stabbing mercilessly into her side,
her gut, her neck,
anywhere they can reach.

she gives up,
reaching for her egg and hauling him upwards,
lungs expanding as they suck in the icy air,
expelling dragon's breath across the ground.

an arrow stabs into her eye,
blinding her as purple and black
ooze out.

she gives up,
letting her body fall,
cradling her precious eggs in her talons.

they cheer in high-pitched squeaks,
jabbing their claws to the sky
and scrambling towards her falling body.

she's tired, her bones ache.
ichor spreads where she lays,
as she exhales her final breath,
watching helplessly as they pry her egg
from her dying grip.