Pinned toot
Pinned toot

I should probably post an introduction to pin on my profile but at this point I'm just like "pls support your local magpie poet, she likes ramen and eggs and shiny things and will give you words in return."

Also

"Eater of hearts currently rebuilding her empire of mugs in a non disclosed location that is no longer London."

Or maybe just.

"Tired poet does words for you whether you like them or not. Is soft please don't startle."

Yeah that'll do.

We are stories we tell ourselves
to feel real. I give myself a name
and walk like a woman, I speak of
the future as if it happens. I eat
food and decompose and dress in costumes
other people make.
I do not wish to be a tragedy, the shape of my
skin spells out a future
lined with moonless nights
and days of fire. I wish to tell a story
of how to drink the ocean
one night at a time.

We are stories we tell ourselves
to feel real. I give myself a name
and walk like a woman, I speak of
the future as if it happens. I eat
food and decompose and dress in costumes
other people make.
I do not wish to be a tragedy, the shape of my
skin spells out a future
lined with moonless nights
and days of fire. I wish to tell a story
of how to drink the ocean
one night at a time.

From my notes:

I am so good at wanting movement,
my body shifting from room to room.
Here
I am a scorched field, here
I hold my hands like dowsing rods.

Hey things are not great for me economically through the summer, I am waiting for my student loan said to start up in August. If you want to help me buy food trough the summer consider donating to my paypal at Ceciliewriteswords@gmail.com

If you cannot that is fine and please enjoy the poetry <3

I enjoy 90s Moomins so much that I felt like making fan art for it! The translation of the wildly inaccurate quote can be found in the image description.

I want to go back to London and live in a queer warehouse community, write poetry about tube lines and hard bricks and complain about the taps and drink too much tea that I pay less than 5 quid for, and eat too much potatoes and kiss my friends and do tarot readings and not think about my ex and maybe just find some space that can overlap with other people so I feel less like I am overflowing with all of this love and all of this time and existence. And hold hands platonically. And sleep.

Hey things are not great for me economically through the summer, I am waiting for my student loan said to start up in August. If you want to help me buy food trough the summer consider donating to my paypal at Ceciliewriteswords@gmail.com

If you cannot that is fine and please enjoy the poetry <3

My body has a whole language
that speaks poetry of missing you.
My empty hands, my parting lips.
The spaces between my fingers
ache at the loss of yours. This
is the language
I have no words for. This is just
skin and absence. An open window
and empty bed, a messy kitchen table
and half filled mugs.

Love in the age of dick pics.

Dearest lady it has come to my attention
That you seek reparation to the state of your loneliness.
I have come to seek the position,
And off my own volition volunteered my appreciation of your form.

See attached.

My new shampoo smells of roses,
my faded pink hair with roots grown long
smells like I’ve crawled out of a garden.
I’ve changed my hair so often I think it grows quickly to spite me,
or maybe it likes it. I think it has a mind of its own
in any case
I find it wrapped around my wrists some mornings
after bad dreams.
I no longer need anyone to touch me to know
I’m here. I’ve given up plant keeping
and my hair grows.

My new shampoo smells of roses,
my faded pink hair with roots grown long
smells like I’ve crawled out of a garden.
I’ve changed my hair so often I think it grows quickly to spite me,
or maybe it likes it. I think it has a mind of its own
in any case
I find it wrapped around my wrists some mornings
after bad dreams.
I no longer need anyone to touch me to know
I’m here. I’ve given up plant keeping
and my hair grows.

I'm working on patreon pieces and a project so the overflow of free poetry isn't as much recently. But there will be words.

The first poem of July is up on Patreon, this one is a piece on returning to healing.

patreon.com/posts/valley-28044

Today is pay day, thank you everyone for supporting me <3

I'm gonna have to write poetry about the absolute horror of a nightmare I had during the storm this morning.

— Digging Two Graves

Men with their soft whiskers and hard
voices.
I have contemplated splitting open
every man I have slept with
from mouth to hip. To find
myself within.
Instead I take his lips
and I become a worm, writing worm poetry
about love
digging myself deeper and deeper.
And together
we are a poem of sort.
The men I do not gut, and
the woman
who does not know when to stop
trying to find an opening to climb into.

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