wearestarstuff

Status: it's been a while
Joined: September 27, 2012
Last Seen: 1 week
Birthday: February 12
user id: 332267
Location: Pluto
Gender: M
glenno. 24.
INTP.
 
putting the try in poetry. 
passionately curious. 
1° 17′ N.  lost. 
 
dihydrogen monoxide connoisseur, asmr junkie,
maladaptive coping mechanism tester, deteriorating mess,
hoe for Pluto etc.
 
evidently horrible at introductions. 

   say hi?   

 
tumblr
poetry: messagestoanonymous

other picturesque melancholy: textisdead


twitter
@cloudstains / @glennunedited

chapbooks
yumpu.com/cloudstains
or
scribd.com/cloudstains


I love you, H. 

"when even to exist seems a victory, then surely our luck has run thin" -- Charles Bukowski

Quotes by wearestarstuff

the winds blew her scores away
when she tried to play the piano
so she composed 
or rather, slammed 
a disastrous symphony
of exasperation 

the water wouldn't come on 
when she tried to turn on the shower
so she sat, crouched
hugging her legs 
without the much needed embrace
from the warm water 
settling for the one
offered by her own tears

and so she screamed
but the four walls 
screamed back at her 

she needed to get out 
of this box

to get out 
of this skin. 




 



we sat
(skin brushing-ly close)
in this pasture 
punctuated by animals
demarcated by rivers

you told me how
 
our grasp on familiarity
is so slight 
like dandelion seeds
barely clinging on

and i told you 

you can never 
start your spring
without
your own space


"exactly"

and then
you were gone. 





-

imaginary.


slightly pensive, most parts depressive. 
a lone, alone 
in the icy, bright white
siberian-like desolation

emnating cries 
carrying the darkness
of solitude
 
the black ink 
writing, juxtapositioning
the skies
calling for anyone.  




 


 


I am so nerdy, my girlfriend is the square root of -1.

 


we are the dreamers waiting for the unification of our parallel universes. 

emotionless and
eyes fixated
on the ground
with a blank gaze

then

looking at me
with the same
unfeeling stare

don't treat me
like you treat
the ground because
unlike it
i feel

or is it that i am
not extraneous
but rather a part?

are the skies
in your world
as dark as
the black
your eyes
are crying?












(i wrote this about someone i saw on the train today. it just seemed to me that something was weighing on her mind. she looked worried, sad and really tired. basically sums up everything.)


one day i wish
to be inert

i will write 
an eulogy
for my emotions
even though there's
nothing praiseworthy
about wretched,
sentient experiences

for all they've done
is to burn down
my paper castles
which i've built
to protect myself
and to increase
my (make-believe)
grandoise
ever so slightly 

i am like a 
gordian knot
irreversibly tangled
hopeless, dispensible 
i can only wish to
feel contented
with the fact that
the only way out
is a cut
straight through
by the sharpest
blade

for as eulogies
signify
i am
dead.










 

'just for fun'
or so it initially is

impressions, unspoken 
compounds
in feelings and
expression

tormented by his own 
mind's fabrication
fantasies and
dereliction
when he never was
a part of anything

it becomes an impetus 
(or imperative)
to flap his wings 
and stir up
the inner chaos 

heartfelt and spontaneous
it gives the game away
and it's no longer
just for fun

it's the end of this 
self-conjured game
and it's time
to run.  
 







if it brings sick joy 
that my heart is
between your teeth 
well, here you go 

i've learnt that 
to bare is to 
be ridiculed,
exploited 

yet this discomfiture
i crave, because
at least it means 
to you, i exist.  
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