Yena Sharma Purmasir - “When I’m Not There”

she is literally perfect…

🥰🥰😭😭 this is so damn sweet

i was going through boxes of books and old clothes when i found the scarf you lent me.

we were going to the football and it was cold and i didn’t bring a jacket, so you lent me your scarf- your favourite team scarf.

how is it possible for a scarf to claw its way into my chest and stop my heart from beating? it’s not? well, it’s happening. it’s possible.

i almost forgot what it was like to be 16, and to love my best friend with my whole heart- my best friend who secretly loved me a little too much;

i almost forgot what it was like at 18 to kiss you in the dead of night and dismiss you in the morning;

i almost forgot how entwined we once were, how many libraries i could fill with every story and aching that passed between us.

staring at your scarf, now dusted by 10 years, i can’t think of anything else.

a child’s disclosure

i took notes around the corner

from the chainsaw’s roar,

while the lock was wrenched off

by its teeth.

and i wrote about the fear,

and the tears,

and the injustice of it all.

no safe space to call—

not home,

not him.

i watched puffy eyes,

matted hair,

tremors—

and i thought and thought.

but all i could do was take notes

around the corner

from the chainsaw’s roar,

while the lock was wrenched off

by its teeth.

the rules of mess, by lila kane

1. there must be no fewer than six items crowding your coffee table. at least two must be either:

a) an open packet

b) a hand cream or lip balm

c) any writing utensil

d) your phone, keys, or wallet

2. all laundry baskets must return to their natural state of overflow within ten business days of being emptied.

3. rubbish bins may only be emptied once no amount of tamping down will allow the lid to close.

4. forgotten miscellaneous items must collect themselves beneath beds, sofas, and cabinets.

5. dust may be permitted to accrue in all spaces containing knickknacks or trinkets. it may only be removed on a whim, or when the space is about to be used or observed by outsiders.

6. all neatly folded linens and towels must return to a haphazard state within twenty business days of straightening up.

7. cosmetics and personal care items may not remain in their assigned spaces for more than two uses, especially if you’re running late.

8. no more than fifty percent of books in the house may be read. at least four must be started then abandoned. at least five must remain free from shelving at any given time.

9. sheets may only be washed if:

a) bodily substances (such as blood or semen), or drinks like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, have been spilled

b) you’re expecting an overnight guest

c) you can’t remember the last time they were washed, and the mood strikes to wash them

10. an excess of blankets and pillows must be present in at least two rooms. they may not remain aesthetically arranged for more than five business days.

sometimes i’m not put together. sometimes i’m not pretty. sometimes my words drip with the crudeness of bukowski and the bite of the primal woman beneath them. sometimes i’m broken and wheezing, or just hollow. as a poet, i won’t hide it. my writing follows me wherever i go. stoned, on a come down, in the thick of the healing and of the pain. i’m not palatable, no matter how you look at it. and that’s just too damn bad.

places i vape:

in public bathrooms

in airport corners

under my desk at work

beneath my hoodie

on mountaintops

on backyard chairs;

in my sleep, in my waking, in my dreams. beneath the clouds and the shadows. on the horizon and the stars and my aching soul.

(addiction presents as poetry, just ask bukowski)

i don’t care if it’s cliché to love the dead poet’s society. it’s a brilliant story and if loving it is wrong, i’ll never be right.

defines you? no.

shapes you? moulds you? becomes you? yes.

our identity is malleable as fuck. our experiences warp it day in and out. the good and the bad.

and this is not to invalidate you: your traumas are real, stifling, and the consequences echo.

but never forget they’re not what’s written under “you” in the dictionary.

they’re just littered throughout your wiki.

“your trauma doesn’t define you” no actually it does. it dictates every aspect of my shitty life.