Latest Posts by claera-mal - Page 3

burning monster.

What of the tree,

That stands between Time and Death,

However, where our lives had begun,

Had also been where you came to rest.

Battle had worn you thin,

Broken seams and dirty limbs,

The golden crown that sits atop your head,

Rusted brown with soil and ash,

The loud thundering destruction,

Of a home you had never forgotten,

One I had destroyed, the day I destroyed myself,

My father stares into your eyes,

He knew, and I knew,

You'd miss me, I knew.

I had to leave,

I had to leave,

I had to leave and what remains of me after Death must go before this body does,

This body that has destroyed itself a long time ago,

I must cut the voice that yelled,

At the only one who'd seen the monster I'd become,

Must lose the mind that lost it long ago,

And rest my conscious six feet underground,

Or at least lay in charred soot and ashes and

burning gunpowder,

In a resting chamber that tormented me for

Days, weeks, hours,

The button clicks like a final realization,

The sun has set at a new chapter,

Singed at the page corners,

And now a new world without the burning monster,

Myself,

Only myself,

The second tyrant has gone, alone in the end,

What he had deserved is served in blazing fire,

And ichor mixed with humanity's wine,

And a father that blames this death on everyone,

But himself.

It is cold resignation.

He can afford to be ignorant.

Do not follow me, (not anymore)

I would love you as if you were my own, My own to love, and my own to mourn, I would card my fingers through the tidal curls, And sweep past all the dirt crumbs you had, Because you rolled in damp swamp grass.

I would protect you, from anyone else who dare harm you, Even if you are a fighter and I, a writer, You seem to need me so I will guide you so, Little soldier, you should've stayed a child for a little while longer, It was not your time to see piercing spears and impaling blades on a blood strewn battlefield, Young minds are not meant to don old armor, But why, oh why in my naivete did I lead you here?

Please don't follow me, not anymore, I have no trust in myself to hold your guiding torch, I might burn you with a single blind swing, Just as I had all that long ago when I singed my own wings, I have a lot to say, but too little courage to tell; Apologies are on the tip of my tongue, but they can't seem to spill.

Little child I love like my own, If you were to forgive the one who raised you, Would they not hurt you anymore?

I will give you every reason I could think of, so you would let go, I'm afraid if you stay by my side for longer than you need to, I'd harm you just like all those years ago, I never lay a hand against you, but I broke that porcelain pedestal, And the shards of porcelain left bleeding cuts I could not mend.

I'm sorry, my dear, I wish you the best.

Kind.

He was kind.

Where he would tire and submerge himself in mire

Where he almost rots,

You'd think it's something not to admire,

but apparently not,

he sinks in the marsh

and feeds himself to the land he loves so much,

with a smile on his face, white hair hidden under

blacks hats,

and no one bats an eye,

when he slips

no one sees

and when he sinks further into the earth,

no one sees

the soot eats he,

and when he is gone,

no funeral is held for the wayward son.

(And he was kind.)

I who stands by Love's edge (but never falls)

All my friends are...falling in love,

and they can't seem to get enough

or they lose everything else,

for their blind love

(you fall too fast, too hard, too soon, too blindly, and all you'd be left with is pieces,

And I am the bystander that can't help but help pick up the shards.)

In another world, he fucks up, in another world, he blows up, in another world, he dies and come back, in another world lets guilt crawl beneath his skin.

What more could he feel in his world but self-pity?

What else does he feel for himself but selfish self-sabotage?

(Must he die first, to wake up?)

It's in his nature and personality to protect his loved ones, to shield them from everything that could be a harm to them, they are what he treasures the most.

What do you expect the man to do, when he is the threat? If he's the one who's hurting them?

The moment he realized how ill he spoke of them, especially one fading star among them, what did you expect the Prince man to do?

(He chooses to die.)

Guilt did not stay underground (sometimes I wish I did)

Knock me down between the eyes,

Eyes of man that crust with gunpowder and long gone cigarette smoke,

Knock me down,

I deserve it,

Little brother o' mine

Let me earn it.

Knock on the door,

Over lily of valleys,

Hung over the frame

Of what once was two,

three against the world,

And you used to mean the world to me,

I don't think that's ever changed,

Second son o' mine, brother o' mine,

Let me go, I'd die a second time

Let me go,

I need to go.

You don't need to earn an apology from me,

Just that you are asking for an apology,

From a coward, that is me,

I need you to stay,

(I want you to go away)

Just like the old days,

(I've come back to my old ways)

With you by my side,

and I by yours,

'You need to let them heal without you'

So I will let you heal without me,

I'd die a second time to make everyone happy,

Except I'd die only in others eyes,

I'd be a wandering man, a breathing ghost,

A husk of flesh and bone

and once long ago flags and never-sung-again songs,

If I am the problem,

then I will remove myself from the equation,

Give you a quick solution,

I've returned to my roots,

my roots underground,

Brother o' mine, would you wish to come around?

What used to be golden and anew...

...burst into fading light, and followed the Moon.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

For if the Moon in the sky had burned as bright,

How come it's canvas remains a pitch black sight?

For if the Sun needed the Moon,

How come it holds it's own,

How come the Moon only reflects the lambent wishes of the Sun?

But what if the Sun sees himself as the Moon,

And the Moon as the Sun,

If the Moon sees himself for what he truly is,

And the Sun so bright he basks in it.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

And the Moon knows this,

He prefers not to shade the Sun's light,

Would want never to reduce the hopeful rays to pathetic halos,

For halos cannot light up the world.

The Moon sees everything in the Sun,

And what the Moon brings is what the people believe as madness,

And truthfully, what he brings is darkness,

If the Sun may bring the people happiness,

If the Moon did not hold their best interests in his cold heart,

Then the Moon will fear not the day he leaves.

But what the Moon does not know,

The day that he fades away from even the Sun's view,

The Sun will weep, raining gold,

The Sun will feel...cold...

The Sun isn't meant to be cold.

(What used to be golden and anew, burst into fading light, and followed the Moon)

. . .

Two brothers despair upon damp grass, and the beating sun against the blue canvas, the older cradles the younger in his arms, who happens to look lifeless in his hold, such a sunny day for such a bloody sight, the world never did halt for them, not when they needed it to, not when they wanted it to. Crimson pools beneath their knees, and the older brother screams his voice hoarse, he sobs out "Please...please come back... I'msorryI'msorryI'msofuckingsorryI'MSORRY!"

No matter how loud he yells, his little brother wouldn't say a word, still limp in his destructive hands, still not the bright sun he was just moments before. The cost of his competitive nature has caught up to him twice, he prays to at least his mother that there will never be a thrice (and he throws in a fleeing wish that if his little kid brother doesn't make it, she would take care of him, she certainly could better than he could have ever done.)

It has forced him to pay the price, and the price came in the form of the second possible death he has caused, out of the very few deaths he has been the cause of, why only his right-hand men? Long overdue apologies fall on unhearing ears, he wishes he did not have the cowardice he had.

Now the sun has burnt out.

A Bard's Compromise

O Wind o' mine

Take me far above your Cathedral spire

Above the children's chatter and the morning prayers

Above the bards' glory-driven drivels and the merry-minded man,

Dance me a tune to last my lifetime

Sing me a song to serenade the sorrowful,

loved, and losing,

To watch over the cramped common crowd

In a bar where the drowned come to commiserate

as I, their god,

Ne'er be free as the god most lonely,

May the wind bring me companions

and I shall watch them come and go

as I, left behind where they would call home.

The Sun needs not the Moon

The Sun needs not the Moon,

For if the Moon in the sky had burned as bright,

How come it's canvas remains a pitch black sight?

For if the Sun needed the Moon,

How come it holds it's own,

How come the Moon only reflects the lambent wishes of the Sun?

But what if the Sun sees himself as the Moon,

And the Moon as the Sun,

If the Moon sees himself for what he truly is,

And the Sun so bright he basks in it.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

And the Moon knows this,

He prefers not to shade the Sun's light,

Would never want to reduce the hopeful rays to pathetic halos,

For halos cannot light up the world.

The Moon sees everything in the Sun,

And what the Moon brings is what the people believe as madness,

And truthfully, what he brings is darkness,

If the Sun may bring the people happiness,

If the Moon did not hold their best interests in his cold heart,

Then the Moon will fear not the day he leaves.

But what the Moon does not know,

The day that he fades away from even the Sun's view,

The Sun will weep, raining gold,

The Sun will feel...cold...

The Sun isn't meant to be cold.

(What used to be golden and anew, burst into fading light, and followed the Moon)

wishing on the farthest star

It seems I am wishing on the farthest star

To achieve what I, alone have earned,

The destruction of what once was home,

seems like a faraway memory, instead of a tomb.

I miss the hunger-smells, and the deathless soil

lively and untouched by the tyrannical hand,

I should've known

that I was wishing on the farthest star

in this lonely night sky,

where family is torn apart at the seams,

and little stars burn out,

and big Suns explode.

I am the slow burning fuse planted 'neath the earth of my home

Ne'er did they find the core of the tick, tick, ticks of time burning,

For the final bow was inevitable,

and this home of ours was never meant to be,

I am this slow-burning fuse,

Forever, lay the scent of TNT.

...Now, the reminiscent stench of gunpowder,

Clings to my coat like an old friend,

that once stabbed me in the back some time ago,

I frown when this sweater of mine smells of cigarette smoke,

The last remaining memory from Before,

tainted with the poignant, lingering smell of who I have come to be,

I chose this path myself,

Please, do not follow me.

Sweet Nothing

I stay in your cold embrace,

Arms right around me meant as a blanket, a home

But all it feels is like rope, tying my hands to my sides,

leaving aching skin and red

complaints behind,

And neither of us is happy,

I'm not happy so you're not happy

And you try to satiate me,

Pressing a face against me,

whispered sweet nothings mean nothing

To someone who is feeling numb,

To someone who lost love for who initiated this hug,

Sweet nothings are sweet,

But bite the tongue that eats and it bleeds,

Bitter iron spilling, you only wipe away the leak,

The corner of my lips betray me,

As I try on a smile like I would a new dress,

I don't like this one, it doesn't suit me

Live your lies like a little movie,

Love your regretted loathing like a drug,

I guess we'd just be both at fault here,

Both at fault yet no one stops,

The yelling becomes white noise

In this bleak and burdened union,

We're only wearing rusted rings, not diamonds but obsidian.

You kiss me goodnight, I say 'I love you' like one would say 'good riddance'

Your words candied words that I grind between my teeth,

Tearing to dust like a personal grudge,

And while I do that, in your arms I watch from afar,

you are mourning me like a lost love.

But I am still here, breathing and screaming

Too alive for someone who's discontent,

Too dead to be someone who once loved you,

We are both lonely, so no one wants to let go,

But what's the point of keeping company

If the other wants to let go?

And a friend once told me

Wise and weeping,

that sweet nothings mean nothing,

to someone who's fallen out of love.

Paradise/Cityscape

All that is passed,

And all that is due

Wander in fields of flowers,

One big tree in the midst of the pasture

Lowly hanging golden fruits,

Knowledge bestowed with every bitten

Sweet at first bite, bitter as an afterthought,

I pace beneath it's sturdy branches and it's

swaying, shining leaves.

This is what paradise would feel,

But I am not dead.

I am dead to the world, the world was dead to me

This fantasy is speaking to me,

with no sound,

Regardless, I am always astonished,

the pretty view of Paradise.

Alas, Paradise never lasts,

The curtain opens

and I lay under sheets,

Formality reeks in this room, of something man-made and broken and repaired, and put back together again,

and beyond my window

Is turgid, overwhelming, and polluted,

Cityscape.

Friend's Soul, Foe's Cage

Famished friend,

I haven't seen you in many moons,

Starved soul,

You haven't sent me any feathers

For the pillow 'neath my bed,

Hungry foe,

You've stabbed me through my only cavity,

Impaled my tongue, pulled my teeth,

I have no words in your world,

Not because I am speechless,

But because I am caged.

My Heart, I Am The Soul

My darling, my darling

You are my darling,

My heart in it's true form,

With every color of gold and blue

Oh so vibrant blue,

In my arms would be my sun,

That shines brighter than anyone,

Any star in the sky could never compare,

My sunshine, you make me laugh the sound of a thousand wind chimes.

My darling, my darling,

You're an idiot, you know that?

You're mistakes make me crack up so much

And my composure falls through like sand

While I'm with you,

My sunshine, my heart,

Will you stay by me at my lowest?

When my voice echoes louder in this cave of

lost loves,

In this cave where we could never call home,

In this cave where the cold clings to my coat like an unwelcome guest,

Where I hurt you farther than I would like,

Where I lost myself in the dark,

Not even your light could pull me out,

You were so young, you never were meant to keep me sane,

It was never your responsibility to keep my heart intact,

After all, you are the heart of our home,

I am it's soul,

And so you are my heart,

If you are my heart, why do cracks line your face

Like a frantic, manic artist, trying to make pace?

I am not to be kept in your life, am I?

I don't truly deserve your forgiveness,

But knowing you,

You'll give it to me anyway,

And with that, I cry.

Round does the wind blow

Through the thick forest brush

Through the iron and glass

Through the marsh and the damp

Through open expanse of blue

And through the body, of you, and of me.

This poem will not talk

About the silent pillow and sock

As slumber does not wait to tumble

Into indecipherable dreams and terrors

As fantasy blurs with what is real

And what is want,

What you need however,

Is not a taunt

Because the wind will speak

It will whisper, and howl

It will never be silenced

But not all the crowd

Will be able to hear it's pained speak

As the closed will become deaf

And the open become blind

Because the closed will not let the wind in,

And the open will not see the wind, or feel the wind, who it is, and who the cries of help belong to,

No empathy, much less sympathy, for the voices that go with the wind.

And so nature weeps in the drizzle

Screams in the thunder

And remains silent on gloomier days,

The days that feel silent and sad, are the days with no rain.

The wind was not heard, seen, nor felt,

And so it's secrets and it's voices

It's pains and it's emotions

It's sufferings and it's triumphs

Remain only in the unknown

The wind sung but was never heard.

Our World Burns Eternal.

A silent plea, to all that will ever be, as I weep in longing, my long forgotten glee,

As the sun no longer shines, the moon never pulls the tides, as the tyrannical reality of whoever bastard comes to seek power in this abandoned city, does not fail to remind me, this would be the end.

Our world of small skylines, of this meek land, humble and of stone, comes a-crashing and a-crumbling, like sand falling through the cracks of home.

And as I hold your hand, dearly in my own, as I gaze over our small skyline, as the sun gives it's final triumph, as the city below us burns in ashes and sings in flames, engulfed in orange and covered in gray, a song I used to always sing comes to mind.

And I think...

...this isn't so bad.

You're here.

In our memory, our world burns eternally.

I am the sky,

The blues of the morning, happy and bright, untouched but lonely, no clouds in sight.

I am the earth,

Fertile and frolicking, wide and green, even as the wildflowers sing with the wind, and the blood that is pressed into the soil beneath me, with the wild sprouting in glee.

I am the wind,

Soundless and free, carefree and careless, as one would wish to be, singing praises into the ears of many, sad and lonely may they be, the wind may stay, not away, from any.

I am the sun,

Bright star against the sky, lambent and bent with joy, laughing with no sound, and warm but not scorched.

I am the sea,

Vast and infinite in the eyes of one person, endless beneath it's surface, and unknown is it's creatures that it is home to, all encompassing and steady, but the sea is never restrained.

I am the moon,

White with morals, but dark in surrounding, cold and gentle, wished to be unmoving, as the tides below sway to my command, as the people on the ground sleep with no sound.

I am the stars,

Bright dots of freckled light, scattered and uneven, but beautiful in every right, immovable but present, distant but not lost, away but not stolen.

And of all the things that I am,

I am love,

Ever present and unending, unconditional or otherwise, heartbreaking or fulfilling, I exist amongst them all, there are those who do not believe in me, but I believe in myself, and who is to stop me from believing me? For who am I, but my own identity of love?

"I should've loved you sooner"

Oh I should've loved you sooner,

Sooner so I could have the sun in my arms,

From when I only knew the dark,

Sooner so I had a reason to smile,

When scowls and frowns and tears were my only solace,

I should've loved you sooner,

My days weren't as bright,

Because I never realized

I had the sun in my corner

You are the sunshine I so desperately

needed,

My rationality, when at times I couldn't keep my head

straight.

My brother, I love you so

But I really should have loved you sooner,

I really, really should have loved you sooner,

And some days, I scold myself, because back then

I told myself;

"Never look him in the eyes,

You've wronged him so, and he will cry"

Never would I have thought, my sunshine

That you would throw yourself at me

And weep in my arms, only to say

"You idiot, you pushed me away!"

And then, I only laughed

Not a joyful one, one full of realization

and irony,

As I wipe those tears away from the face of the

Sun,

And I tell him;

"I'm sorry, love"

I should've loved you sooner,

I should've loved you sooner,

I should've loved you sooner,

When my days were nothing but

grief and sorrow,

You had given me your heart to borrow,

And if I had broken it a million times

before,

Let me try repair it once more,

With the love you have yearned for,

The love I should've given you sooner.

(This poem is meant to be purely platonic and nothing else)

Urgent Please Read

My father has passed away from Covid-19 yesterday morning. As much as I want time to grieve him; me, my mother, and little brother are in urgent need of money. We had been funded by his SSA checks each month, & now have to contact SS of his death.

Because of this, we will have almost no funding until we are approved for Survivors Benefits. I am currently working but because my father died from Covid, I must remain in quarantine until I can continue. We urgently need to pay $1000 in rent & utilities by August 5th.

Luckily, once I return to work I can handle paying for the other misc. bills. Until then, we need funding however we can.

Ways you can help fund us:

Cashapp: https://t.co/Z35i0r7RiR

Venmo: https://t.co/mkfGZi2Ima

GPay: https://t.co/xGX7C9bOK2

Thank you all who took time to read and help us in this time.

The Woman Who Painted,

And Never Forgot

Have you ever heard, of a story told in words

Painted in your mind, and burned into your heart?

Of each time a statement so significant, would not be forgotten by one, and instead cursed (or blessed) to never forget;

Where words to be heard, inspires the mind to bring out it's canvas, paint it's joys or sorrows away, and hang the painting up, for no one else but one to see?

I'll tell you a tale, of a woman no one knows the name of,

But her story is to be remembered, as a tale children hear, at night from their parents' whispers

Of a woman, who could not forgot, a significant line from those she held dear,

Both a blessing

And a curse

At first, it was her mother

The drip, drip, dripping of "Honey" from her lips

It trickled itself into her mind, fed her heart

It was syrupy, like a sweet treat after a hard day

It was her first love, and one that was to never to be taken from her,

Second, was from her brother,

"I hate you!"

It was discordant, all written in static, it hurt, she could see and hear the insincerity in this declaration,

She apologized shortly after, their small little quarrel, she'd rather never hear or see, that horrid line of hurt, much less would she want that insincerity, become no longer.

Next was her lover,

Name known to none but family and her,

"Sweetheart"

In a loopy handwriting, full of curled arcs and elongated inking, red, cherry red in color

She tucks this memory in her arms, and placed it high in her mind, never to forget

Last was her former love,

Name known to none but her family and her,

"I've found someone"

It was covered in roses, but with roses come thorns

And those thorns dug through her heart, wrapped itself around her mouth

Left her speechless and in tears,

A tale of a woman, who could not forget,

A tale of someone, who wishes to never paint any words again,

A tale that warns children

Be careful with what you say, because sometimes, people are cursed not to forget

A tale that warns them all,

Not all love will end sweet.

Thinking of just making this a creativity dump account with fake blog RP entries of my characters or any characters I get inspiration for, possibly also art, all I know is that this will be a messy blog

UPDATED please don’t scroll! Help Johj save his legs!!

(i had to remake this post because johj needed to update his paypal!)

My friend Johj Onlang (@onlang) has been really suffering from his squamous cell carcinoma, a type of cancer that has made him unable to use his legs, and soon, he fears he’ll lose them all together. The surgery he needs keeps being put off both because of money and because of hospitals flooded with COVID-19 patients. He’s losing hope.

He just wants to be able to live, and to be able to get treatment. And we can help him with that!! If you can share this post, or have a couple spare bucks, it means the WORLD. He’s trying to save up approx $7500 to get his surgery!

Here is his go/fundme run by @thealluringsink​​

Here is his paypal: paypal.me/itsmejhoj

And if you need to use cas/happ or ve/nmo, mine is savegodprovides ! Let me know you sent it for him, and I’ll make sure he gets it!! Thank you so much for your kindness and how much you all always care!! Also as usual, I’m tagging tags where there are kind people, but I can remove the tags if someone asks!