thecoatinmytrunk:

defying the properties of dihydrogen oxide

happy (belated) birthday to my dear anna

my contribution to destiel week ‘12

thecoatinmytrunk:

the cloudless sky,
the wide open spaces -
they taunt me, give me reason to hope
when i have none.
what is the point
of showing a man what freedom looks like
if only to put him in a cage,
to set boundaries and limits?
i can be free,
but only if i follow your rules,
only if i do everything you ask.
how is this freedom?
you have moved me from one cage
to another.
above me now the clouds gather,
the rain pours in sheets - no,
in walls that close in tighter and tighter
around me as you stand by and watch
how is this freedom?
no, don’t - don’t tell me one thing
when you mean something different.
everything i do, everything that i am,
it’s all a tool for you.
a means to an end.
how is this freedom?
i am merely a tool that has been
transferred from heaven’s hands
to yours. 

thecoatinmytrunk:

I am the stalk of corn
I am the sapling that sways in the wind
I am the neck of the giraffe
I stand tall!
I see what you do not!
O little one, so far below
Do you not wish to be up here among the clouds?
But then again, it is not so grand
I begin to grow top-heavy
My stalk begins to droop
My branches weigh me down
Muscles in my neck strain and ache
As I struggle to see far beyond
I cannot stop my fall
I crash into the mud below
O little one, you sit beside me
You need not say a word
I know my own folly
I see my hubris for what it is
O little one, you sit beside me
Here in the dirt and the filth
Together we are earthbound
Together we are simple and plain
Will you sit here in the dirt with me?
I had not known loneliness up in the air
Until I had known companionship down here with you

thecoatinmytrunk:

Others
They say my name
But they do not say my name
Not as you do
You say my name
And it is in the curve of your lip
The flick of your tongue
In the way it slips between your teeth
Like a chant like a chant like a chant
That I know it belongs to you
That I know you could carry it with you
To the ends of the earth
And it would be safe within
The warmth of your mouth

thecoatinmytrunk:

Bones crossed wrong;
A twinge that snakes its way
Between shoulder blade and spine
And just won’t—
Stop—
Constricting.
She takes your wrists
And he grips your ankles.
Pull in opposite directions,
Give the vertebrae
Room to breathe.
Each joint creaks, lets out hollow
Pop—
Pop—
Pops
Before slowly resettling into place.
But they resettle and resettle
And you should have known that
This was a temporary fix.
So let’s find something
More permanent.
Slice the skin open,
Rearrange the bones
Into a form that
Fits you
Instead of the other way around.

I lay down in the grass to try and remember 
the softness of nature, to know the embrace of the earth. 
It’s all in the books, isn’t it? 
The rolling fields of golden wheat, 
the vibrant life teeming in the cool grasses of the hills. 
It was all mine for a while, lifting my shirt up to expose
my pale belly to the clear Texas sky. I could feel my skin 
soaking in the heat, so welcome after sitting for ages in the dark.
I needed to get away, even just for a while, to find some peace,
some piece of me that had slipped out when I wasn’t looking.
I knew I wouldn’t find it here, but perhaps another
fragment of a puzzle that matched the hole 
in mine could be made to fit.
So I lay down in the grass, and it worked for a while.
But the earth was not so much an embrace as it was the ground.
Just the ground. I don’t know what I had expected.
The dirt was hard, unforgiving against the bones of my shoulders,
and the grass prickled at the small of my back, along the backs
of my legs, made me search for bugs that weren’t really there,
creatures that wanted to crawl inside my body and eat me from
the inside out. It’s hard to be still on a good day,
impossible on a bad one, and mind over matter has never
been a trick that would work on me. I squirmed and twisted,
until finally I gave up. (Not really a surprise, as giving up
has been my specialty for many long years. A waste to abandon
the only real talent I’ve got.) I got up on my knees, glowering
down at the earth below me. You have deceived a great many people,
I thought. You are not as kind as you would have us all believe.
But I am much too kind-hearted to tell them all the truth.
Let them believe what they want, I guess.
I’ve given up on believing my voice will ever really be heard.
I’m rather good at that part, don’t you think?