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Literature
What do you need to tell me?
My mind's been full of smoke for a whole damn month, I
Can't write, I can't sleep, I've been getting
Sicker and sicker.
And I've tried everything I know, everything I have time for, just to get me back, 'cause I
Swore you off; you're a horrible addiction to have. Put me in rehab. I need somethin'.
I kept my phone on loud under my pillow expecting bad news from you.
I risked getting caught and dying for you, every day. Every night.
The least you can do is take my shitty 3:30am poetry: I wrote it while I was high on love and back in my seventh grade summer mindset.
I love you. I love you I love you I love you.
You give me anxiety. I love you.
You have to- you have to tell someone bad news. You never have to tell someone good news. You don't know how to break news. And then you didn't answer, I called you, I wanted to get home so I could hear your voice because I didn't get a hug goodbye and I felt so hated on Thursday night. I've been feeling that emptiness again, like all my e
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 1
Literature
how to ask for forgiveness
the kind of realization where your eyes blur over even when you're wearing your glasses-
they're not even letters anymore, no words,
just lines about his sign
and all the things you did wrong.
and you look at all your notes about him, all the things about him,
all written while you were supposed to be asleep and you probably would've dreamed about him,
and you know that you've done wrong. listen to me, you know that you've done wrong.
there's no taking it back. there's nothing to give him but silence. he doesn't really mention these problems when its just you two.
its your biggest weakness, and you so badly want everything to go wrong,
want everything to break down and fall apart and leave in disgrace so you can have all you want but it won't, never ever will, and you don't always get what you want,
but how could they love nothing, the both of them, trapped in nothing! and i'm too young and i have no say and they don't listen to me anyway- they shouldn't- but i'm not seeing anyt
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 0 0
Literature
schrodinger's girl
having friends or not having friends
but i
guess i have both at once.
this room is my box and i have two escapes.
( three if i count the scissors )
i don't
know what experiment i've been put in this time,
but i feel like another filthy rab lat-
lab rat. what's wrong with me.
i ask but they don't answer, all of my vicarious storybook lives
come rushing back to me. the scientists don't answer, they never answer,
i'm still confused and they are monitoring and recording it for future reference.
sometimes i feel like someone's looking at me through the vent. or the closet.
or the corner of my room. but sometimes i forget. i don't know what happens then.
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 2 1
Literature
[ONE WEEK-NO SCHOOL]
everything hurts and i can't breathe
when we take breaks, this always happens to me; i get
caught up in my loneliness and doing nothingness
and its always always painful, maybe because i just seek approval
in people who will never really understand why. i try to seek patterns
and brainwaves and some sort of knowledge and only a dead god knows why,
i don't even know why, why am i doing this and why am i weak?
why do i feel so much and never understand the havoc that i wreak?
its not even havoc half the time, its just doing the same thing they do to me
and having to apologize for it. but i usually don't, i just end up crying about it
and i hate myself and i hate my eyes when they leak and i hate myself and
the fact that i'm so fucking weak.
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 0 0
Literature
not to die, but to leave.
i need this.
realization has hit me
i don't have the parts to build up what i want, and there's
no trade-ins, to take-backs, i have to make the most of what i have.
we're not a lot.
and i won't repeat myself here anymore, because that's all-
that's all-
that's all-
i feel like that's all i do.
i just have a heart-broken-record pumping blood through me.
that's all it really does, but it feels like its aching.
maybe i
take their problems and they manifest into all of my strange pains.
his self esteem issues weaken my knee, makes me limp;
his confusion makes my eyes unfocus, lets words swim;
his sadness makes my heart stop, yes really, that's what does me in.
her family makes me see stars, leaves me dizzy;
her scattered heart makes me bend and break, its a bad habit that won't leave me;
her wounded arms make me collapse, i make stars hoping they'll burn me.
there seems to be no one else in this world to match me;
i can't find anyone that gets me. really gets me, y'know?
i understan
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0
Perspective Practice: One Point by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: One Point :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 2 0 Perspective Practice: Two Point by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: Two Point :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 0 0 Perspective Practice: One Point by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: One Point :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 2 3 Perspective Practice: 3D Shapes by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: 3D Shapes :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0 Perspective Practice: Example 2 by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: Example 2 :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0 Perspective Practice: Example 1 by greenstar2001 Perspective Practice: Example 1 :icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 2 0
Literature
to fight each other for each other
"i know- i've known for a long time- that you don't like poetry, and you don't like meanings in things,"
i remembered telling him that shakespeare was overrated and i liked my own poetry better.
"i don't know if its just because of how you are," i paused here, "or because of how you were raised, or because you're a boy, but it just doesn't compute. i get that."
"what is it?"
emotion-
feelings-
i couldn't find the right word,
"sentiment." i hoped to god that this was right.
       he never really meant to hurt me.
       it was always accidental, i just-
       i feel too much, i just get so caught up,
       i needed something like this so much.
       i've never seen him cry;
       no tears and no red eyes, just
       sky-colored clues and
       evidence i already have.
i don't know why i speak half the time.
"
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 0 0
Literature
saint valentine
maybe if i write this down, it will be more real.
right now everything is just words, words, words words wordswordswordswordswordswords-
all in my head. phrases to put your sins to poetry.
i've been having revelations that
all you have is things you own because people will always fail you.
       my songs, my creations, my words, my art, my work, my body,
       my bag, my water, my voice, my bandages, my cards, my food, my life.
       all of it. mine.
       only speak when necessary- stay quiet, shut your mouth, shut them out-
don't make it impossible to make amends.
       will i-
       would i-
       he's just ignorant.
maybe he had the right idea,
but i can't just drop off; i need to leave, slowly. does everyone go through this?
  &
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0
Literature
up, up, up, icarus!
don't-
let me start from the beginning.
time hasn't been right since yesterday, and now everything is spinning out of control.
every time you mention it-
and this air-
i haven't thought about that in so long.
"you won't remember this," he croons;
"you won't remember it," he said.
will i remember?
comfort and escapism are three years apart
and linked by bad blood and a trail of broken-hearted shadows.
transparent pictures of past torment are all that appear to me,
i see that moment like a scene on a screen,
he seems sepia like the tvs he grew up with.
now there's more room for remembering:
we have photographic evidence
of spark-plug loves and delicacies
and every single sunset over the trees and telephone poles at the end of the street,
and flowers at the in-between peak between growing and dying,
and pretty radio waves and every other beautiful thing.
you still speak to me in dreams out loud-
(very loud, keep it down)
you're worse than my synapses,
firing up feelings for
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0
Literature
but maybe we're just fallen angels.
you're not the virus, but you're the fever dream.
i've been trying to burn you out; that must be what this blush is about.
you've got me bare and honest, and honestly, i just might
waste all of my time contemplating you and healing.
i had convinced myself that you were fleeting, but
you feel like forever now, and i'm glad i taught you something:
how to protect your friends and how to speak up and demand
rights and fights and yes, we needed to fall apart to fall back together.
they're trying to dust off tomes to teach us about covenants,
but what we have is stronger than anything promised in blood.
you're trying to protect (her more than me; what are we?) us from
the devil you know, shoving her with the devil you don't, maybe
wanting something more than just 'close' but not closed off anymore,
thank god, and i do. i thank my lucky stars that i had the fortune of meeting
you.
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001
:icongreenstar2001:greenstar2001 1 0
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greenstar2001
Certified Bad Influence
Artist | Student | Literature
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hey guys

so i really wanted to record someplace that these three poems go together and how they fit so i'm just gonna write it all down here

okay so, technical things first? yeah then meaning later

technical things:

psa: just so that all of this makes sense, know that i typed all these poems out.

all three poems were posted in chronological order of when i started writing them. not to die first, ONE WEEK second, and schrödinger's girl last. i started writing ONE WEEK right after the second line of the second to last stanza of not to die. it was a separate idea, and so i put it in its own note and ran with it until that was done. then i wrote the little description and got the idea for schrödinger's girl, and i copy pasted that phrase and just started writing. once i was done with that, i went back and finished not to die

about the titles: not to die is a reference to infinitives in latin (the "to be" form of the verb). i was thinking of the latin words i would put in the title, but i didn't like them so i just stuck with the english. also, that used to be the first line of the poem, but i decided to make it the title. ONE WEEK is very unique and actually does have a method behind the madness. i first thought to put it in brackets because it was a small homage to [Premade Sandwiches] by Glass Animals, not exactly in content but in intent. its a sort of rough interlude between the more musical and poetic ideas. and its in all caps because my latin teacher writes and types in all caps. in emails, in dropbox, in turnitin, and that's just become how i see the school and the sort of tone i equate with school things. schrödinger's girl, i swear to god i know that there are supposed to be the dots over the 'o' but deviantart is a little shit that doesn't like strange letters in the titles. i've always been fascinated by the idea of schrödinger's cat, so the two possibilities in the phrase "having friends or not having friends" brought that whole idea back. 

meaning/analysis (this is gonna be really brief because i don't want to bore you):

not to die, but to leave.

the first line is referring to all of it: leaving instead of dying, writing the poem, having the realizations that it brings. 
in the second stanza, the parts are people, shown in "we're not a lot."
the third stanza is about how the people are in pretty much everything, how they're just repeating themselves.
fourth stanza is how i have all sorts of weird inconveniences and i'm trying to blame it on my selflessness and them.
fifth stanza about feeling like your friends are all fake. i think everyone has that at some point, right?
sixth stanza is hypothetical and numb. about leaving people behind. 
seventh stanza is is about people hurting you, but you keep giving them chances because they're only little things. but those little things build up over time.
last stanza is just about one person putting in so much more effort into a relationship than the other person.

[ONE WEEK-NO SCHOOL]

this stems from the fake friends and letting them back into your life idea from the poem before. just a rant/vent on how out of my two other friends, they are more on the same level and have similar lives and i'm never on the same plane of existence as them, but when i'm at my closest i still feel removed and when i'm at my farthest it just doesn't even seem like they want me around.

schrödinger's girl

this one is more self-contained than the other two. about me, myself and i rather than me, him, and her. about how feelings about these friendships are confusing and so polarized and i feel like its driving me insane sometimes. 

alright, that's all of it! haha this was kinda pointless, but kinda fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i don't really know why i did this ^^;


until the next~

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I'm still alive guys and I have lots of stuff to post, you can find me on Poetry Amino and Voltron Amino under the username Greenie. I'm super active there. But I promise I haven't forgot about you guys!

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