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Human | Moss Goblin | ๐Ÿ“Juneau, AK
Poems about Alaska, grief, joy, loss
& whatever else I want (All the things)
โ€œWhatever leads to joyโ€ -Marie Howe
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โš ๏ธ ๐“๐–: ๐‚๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐š๐›๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ž + ๐ฌ๐ž๐ฑ๐ฎ๐š๐ฅ ๐š๐›๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ž + ๐ฌ๐ž๐ฅ๐Ÿ-๐ก๐š๐ซ๐ฆ โš ๏ธโ€‰
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As a child, I was taught to cross myself when passing cemeteries and say a prayer for the souls in purgatory. Souls awaiting salvation, who needed the prayers of the living...or so I was taught.โ€‰
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So, the devout altar girl did.โ€‰
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That was until I began to ask those souls to pray for me instead.โ€‰
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Until I began to realize that it didn't matter if that tree was heard falling alone in a wood. At least ๐˜๐˜› could hear the sound of its own rupture.โ€‰
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And, I...โ€‰
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needed to hear mine.โ€‰
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My knuckles gave me a way to compose the sound of my own breaking.โ€‰
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And now, knuckle-worn and swollen, tattoos kiss the memories I hold in my skin.โ€‰
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๐€ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ๐ž: ๐ˆ'๐ฏ๐ž ๐›๐ž๐ž๐ง ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฒ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฒ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ž ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ข๐ง๐œ๐ž ๐ˆ ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐˜œ๐˜ญ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข ๐˜๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต. ๐“๐จ ๐ž๐ฑ๐ฉ๐š๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐ž, โ€œ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ, ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.โ€โ€‰
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๐ˆ๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ญ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐ž๐ž ๐Ÿ๐ฎ๐œ๐ค๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฐ๐ž๐ž๐ค๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐Ÿ๐ž๐ž๐ฅ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ž ๐ˆ'๐ฏ๐ž ๐ฆ๐š๐ฒ๐›๐ž ๐Ÿ๐ข๐ง๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐š ๐Ÿ๐ž๐ฐ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ ๐ž๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ.โ€‰
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๐“๐ก๐š๐ง๐ค ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ...๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฆ๐ž ๐š ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐š๐œ๐ž ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ. ๐Ÿ–คโ€‰
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๐Ÿ“ท by meโ€‰
๐ŸŽต Chasing Ghosts by @theamityaffliction
โ€‰
๐Ÿ“ Prompts used:โ€‰
๐˜๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜บ by @wild_ink_and_sunflowers ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ alive by @forgotten.dumpling and @ml.mecham 
๐˜ˆ ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด by @toniyoungpoems 

#traumapoetry #darkpoetry #confessionalpoetry
#bodyhorror #mentalhealthpoetry 

childhood trauma โ€ข childhood abuse โ€ข sexual abuse survivor โ€ข trauma poetry โ€ข confessional poetry โ€ข dark poetry โ€ข gothic poetry โ€ข religious trauma โ€ข survival poetry โ€ข body memory โ€ข somatic memory โ€ข self-harm recovery โ€ข trauma healing โ€ข inner child โ€ข spoken silence โ€ข poetry community โ€ข contemporary poetry โ€ข original poetry Black-and-white cemetery photography featuring a close-up of a weathered stone funerary sculpture with a bowed, obscured head. The figure appears weighed down, evoking grief, religious mourning, childhood trauma, and survival. Large white serif lettering reads โ€œTEN LITTLE FINGERNECKS,โ€ followed by three repetitions of โ€œSnap.โ€ in black italic lettering. Small text at the bottom reads โ€œA poem by Savannah | This Too Is Holy.โ€ Cover for a dark confessional poem exploring childhood abuse, religious trauma, self-harm, and survival.
142
between hell and caffeine

// 

prompts used: 

the kettle screamed my name 
by myself and the loveliest @ml.mecham 

grimoire of hours
by @toniyoungpoems 

//

the kettle is screaming
my name butโ€”

my bed is toiling
with nightmares,
still writhing and clawing 
towards me,
but I stand at the edge,
a grimoire of hours,
shadowed in night
that clings to me
like a bad perfume.
I'm dog-eared, dog-tired,
still breath hesitates
on my lips like a spell
and I deeply gulp it down
greedily obsessed
to live.
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