There Is Beauty 

Dreamers with empty hearts and frozen hands,

you come running

crying “love”

when it’s

Convenient

when you’re tired of carrying the weight of the

world (responsibility)

and I let you in

the foolish, gullible villager falling

Always

for your tricks

but one day,

Your cries will no longer sound genuine and

that,

my love,

is the day you’ll perish

— a warning (y.c.)

Everything feels the same, now. 

That is to say, 

Everything feels like coming to life. 

That is to say, everything

Feels like dying anew. 

.

—resurrection (y.c.)

A friend of mine wants flowers for her room, she says. 

She wants to make it beautiful and vibrant and fresh, but

Blossoms fade and petals mold, she says,

Clutching her falsified flowers, 

Petals carefully crafted—

A forgery,

hundreds of days in the making in factories where they make 

          hundreds of petals that never die.

Immortality is the prize, beauty a side effect, and yet

How many of us choose both as a goal?

-

—Immortality comes with plastic petals (y.c.)

Photography by Hilde Engerbråten

this has 100% been talked about before but younger members of the lgbt community (especially on tumblr) NEED to understand that “gay panic” doesn’t mean “oh no i’m a teen panicking because i might be gay” it means “literal legal defense used in cases where a person has murdered someone upon finding out they were gay”

Mother, I think I’m cursed

This air is turning to poison

This heart is falling apart

Mother, I think I’m blind

The path is dark and winding

No light shines on these parts

Mother, I think I’m dying

There’s nothing but numbness here

and a voice whispering, “We’re all mad here”

Mother, I don’t want you to save me

This darkness has begun to feel like home

and it truly has been so long since

I felt at home

— y.c.

Hey y’all!

I’m absolutely terrible at posting things regularly, so a massive thank you to everyone who’s following me and bearing with my non-existent planning skills. I’ll try to post one a month at least from now on, but no promises cuz uni is crazy like that.

I’ve gotten published in a few places since I last posted, and I’ll link them below! It’s super exciting, and I hope you enjoy the poems.

amaranthine

Indigo

the ghosts in my home still haunt me

(there are also poems in InkMovement’s Edmonton Youth Anthology, Vol I, but they only print in paper so I can’t put the link here)

Sometimes forgiveness is swallowing a match, 

          swallowing ten. 

Your veins ignite like gasoline-soaked wood 

(are your doubts the gasoline or your convictions?)

(does it matter?)

.

Sometimes it’s a bit like suffocating,

Water rushing in through your nose and you’re

Drowning 

(are your memories the water or your dreams?)

(does it matter?)

.

—y.c.

Forest path