one week,

seven days,

that’s what we’ve got left.

it’s always been known that this day would come

but living it presently?

something i never thought i’d do.

i saw it coming;

the stars started dying out, one by one,

until the cloudless night sky

was as dark as the smog

filling the day.

the only light we get

is the blue from our phones

and the occasional flare from the sun.

it’s gotten so hot,

and my grandmother recalls stories of polar bears,

but i don’t think they ever really existed.

they’re like unicorns.

apparently it used to snow here? now it hardly rains

and when it does, it’s best to stay indoors.

not to avoid getting wet,

but to avoid the possible chemical reactions.

six days, hysteria.

five days, regret.

four days, remorse,

three days, forget.

two days, it’s burning.

one more day, it’s cold.

the sun’s moving backwards,

there’s snow once more,

my grandmother’s crying,

“what a beautiful way to go”.

the children are playing, a strange sight to see,

and the snow isn’t burning, but their bodies are free.

they’re freezing, i see now, they’re turning so blue.

grandmama grows quiet, and looks out the glass,

goes “sweet one, i love you, but our time has passed”

the snow keeps on falling and we cuddle up,

she tries to tell stories, but i can’t keep up.

we’re shivering and crying, but she’s leaving smiling,

the world as we know it has no longer more,

for we are all knocking

on heaven’s sweet door.

NaNoWriMo (stands for National Novel Writing Month)

It is setting a goal for yourself to write 50k words within the month of November...technically. Sometimes I set other goals, but this year I'm thinking of going with the traditional 50k.

Consider this my project announcement. This November, I'll work on a story I've titled Pearl Before Swine.

One week to prove she’s flawless. Loveable. Human.

Pearl lives where the waves lap the sand, watching the creatures of the sea, land, and sky, wishing she could be like them. She cannot move. She cannot speak. Then one day, a human plucks her from the water and gifts her to the Essence of the Land, a being thought to grant wishes to those he favors. He is a lonely creature. He gives her a voice and legs.

His sister, the Essence of the Sea, claims Pearl belongs to her, but the land will not give her up so easily. The siblings decide on a wager: As the humans do not belong solely to land, sea, or sky, Pearl will walk among them. If she can convince just one of them to love her, then the land may have her. If not, she will return to the sea.

Pearl adores her newfound freedom. She wishes she could remain like this forever, and the Essence of the Land might let her, but he and his sister are not mere spectators. Pearl searches for one human to fall in love with her, but any of them could be a ploy of the sea to get her back.

Any thoughts? Questions? It's a bit different of a world for me, and I'm looking forward to it.

One of the cool things about NaNoWriMo is the spirit of writers writing alongside one another and cheering each other along. If you'd like to cheer me on as one of my "buddies" on the NaNo site, here's the link to my profile over there:

https://nanowrimo.org/participants/taki-zyngtara

Want more info about NaNoWriMo? Here's the link their homepage:

https://nanowrimo.org

Happy Writing!

Taki

sometimes my lungs flood with tragedy

sometimes my ribs rot and collapse, cave in

to the cavity of a hollow heart

carved out

by those sickly, sugared love songs.

this sweet-tooth of mine

will be my death.

if i’m not gone already, that is-

sometimes i like to imagine that i am

just a ghost glimpsing through the veil,

a visitor in a life,

a golden, lost body,

that isn’t mine.

that would explain a lot,

i think.

the absence

the disconnect

but no;

this was not a murder, but a metamorphosis.

i can see the sculpture of my skin

outlined in the suffocating heat,

buzzing in the thick air.

shoulders weary,

head down. i can hear the echoes

of my past self,

he shadows me as i move through

these fields, these halls, these echoes

of her, shaking through

my life, causing tremors,

ripples,

through the flow of reality.

he hesitates

when i pass you.

that sweet smile of yours,

my undoing.

sometimes i unravel when the sun casts its gold against these tile floors

sometimes when it hurls itself across the classroom walls,

across my skin,

my hands,

my fourteen-year-old eyes.

my maybe fourteen-year-old eyes.

sometimes i feel that,

this fourteen.

sleepless,

shining,

sweet-toothed fourteen.

sometimes i feel more than that,

or less;

thoughts that are not mine,

feelings that i have no right to.

still,

this is a fourteen years body

filling with love,

with pain,

loss leaking through my pupils.

sometimes this sweet-tooth of mine leaves me

rotting

to the core.

sickness in the midday glory, these dandelions

watered by my weeping. these footsteps in the grass halt;

i am flying above the storm clouds.

this sulphur eye of the hurricane,

this moment of almost-peace.

this is not how my story will end.

this is not when.

i refuse to be another teenage tragedy.

i won’t fall in love with this honeycombed, sun-speckled

syrup-steeped, poisoned, perfect, horrible

image of youth.

i won’t fall in love with you.

APOLLO X. SMITH

(@boyeternal on instagram. feel free to suggest edits, and thank you thank you thank you for reading.)

#trans #poetry #boy