personal, poetry


my libra moon makes me a dreamer crucified on a wall, using my upturned palms  to hold all the lives that i’m not living

my capricorn dominance replaced my bones with quartz to match the forests in my eyes and ice in my heart. it replaced the passive river that used to be my mind with clusters of raw ambition, amethyst stones where my gentleness used to be

my gemini rising coated my tongue in shards of silver. i am the dark side of the two faced creature, using words as my armor and fists as my sword – the blood trickling down my chin is from all the times I bruised someone else. it allows me to contain more than one life in a single body (it tears me to shreds, it’s a brutal tug-of-war between all the versions of myself)

my pisces sun that hangs her jacket up in the 10th house wears headphones to jump start the engine that lives in my chest .

she’s anger and memories of late night races and bathtubs filled with books

she’s a tattoo needle, a craving, black hair dye

she’s ethereal, strong; she’s capable of holding all the other signs in her arms and only collapsing when no one is looking.

she’s the two fishes bathed in mercury, a death sentence to everyone she touches

my mars in leo is a molotov cocktail,

rage that bleeds into every other emotion

it’s looking to someone with a snarl instead of a smile, not seeking to destroy anything but myself.

it’s a burnt out match that catches on every exposed vein, collarbone, jawline

my scorpio north node painted everything in black to fight along side my sensitive pisces mercury . it says “this is who you were, who you are, and who you’re going to be” . it helps me rely on adrenaline to keep myself upright , took me from tarot cards and birth charts to ouija boards and bones. i needed a tidal wave to uproot my grief, it helped me become avalanche

(i am a tsunami of cracked knuckles and solitude)
my aquarius venus is why i laugh when others cry.  it’s a cold exterior, lightning in my pulse, a void below my ribs. it makes me concerned with what i’m not and where the red strings are tied . it’s a growl when you get too close to someone i love, it’s hidden intelligence. the human pelt i wear over my wolf’s body is gone, i only care for others who don’t need me to speak – who understand the ache in my howls, the blood of a man who cared too much staining my teeth

i am exhausted from carrying their weight under such decaying bones



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