pull my daisy — peregrine | Hunger Games: The RPG

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 3, 2021 19:21:49 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Oct 3, 2021 19:21:49 GMT -5

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 3, 2021 19:25:16 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Oct 3, 2021 19:25:16 GMT -5 there is an angel perched on an oil rig at sea, holy creature in the twilight of saffron burning, bowed before the water, the skin of the ocean ripples, taunts, alights him.

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 3, 2021 22:11:25 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 3, 2021 22:11:25 GMT -5

in the backyard the bones ask
where is all the life
all the liberty
and the hand that gives,
the skulls buried biting
their own wrists, tender flesh
sweetening our cavities
come quick!
the television is warm,
a fire, and decadent ethos feeds
a family of five

i spit veneers.

Last Edit: Oct 3, 2021 22:11:48 GMT -5 by fox

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 17, 2021 22:25:15 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 17, 2021 22:25:15 GMT -5

i dreamed in revolutions, petrarchan sonnets to rosebuds,
tree rings, water ripples
nature is circular like this — i learned that when the sun rises,
i learned that when was i was five and fell from the trees
— only to get up and climb again
i dreamed in revolutions, tasted it, felt
a particular texture of metamorphosis
from boy to something in between i guess
and i dreamed in revolutions, my anger simmering
i was angry
i raged, i fought, i lamented
and now i'm not

shit
i have never been good at poetry

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 22, 2021 18:03:36 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 22, 2021 18:03:36 GMT -5

i carry a quarter in my pocket, a poker chip, and a lighter.

outside my window, a branch taps on the glass like a knotted hand, asking for the time. 3 a.m. comes again and again, and my father's watch has long stopped ticking at

3 a.m.

i light a cigarette in the dark. my room smells like ash and mom has long given up punishing me for it.

the moon looks like a quarter, silver and shining, light pressed against the window pane.

i always think about how it felt to fall from the trees, to close my eyes, to let go,

no longer an accident at seventeen years old.

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 22, 2021 18:13:22 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 22, 2021 18:13:22 GMT -5

my sparrow sings a hymn for dying birds,
for the ones in mourning, for the ones at night,
she bites a vein and drinks a pulse,
prefers my blood to seed,
rattling her cage with a three-note lament.

my little bird, why do you cry?

she says,

"i want the sun, i want the sprawling skies,
i want the tender breeze and verdant trees,
i want to see the place your father lies.”

she says, "so here's the knife, and here's the hand,
so please, now cut me loose and slice me free,
and i will sing my song throughout the land."

she is yearning
and i am burning.
i cut my wrist,
her body bleeds from me.

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 22, 2021 18:22:55 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Oct 22, 2021 18:22:55 GMT -5 reasons why i'm alive: 1. my mom 2. my mom would be sad if i died

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 22, 2021 18:30:16 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 22, 2021 18:30:16 GMT -5

there's a stack of books underneath my bed, novels and poems i sell to the people still reminiscing, for money i spend for, i guess — a feeling.

i read one from before the dark days, the cover torn and dog-eared, a story about lovers separated during the war. they forgot each other, married other people, and their love was lost to the generations after them, and then lost again when all the copies burned, smoke rising to a new Panem.

i wonder what it feels like to be in love.

painful, i guess.

i wonder what it was like for mom when our father left us.

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pull my daisy — peregrine Oct 22, 2021 19:36:15 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 22, 2021 19:36:15 GMT -5

how much am i like father.

did he ever dream about bird philosophy and pull the petals of flowers in different seasons into his books. did he ever sit in the branches of the forest and feel the space underneath his legs, closing his eyes and falling backwards into the breeze.

where did he go, all those years ago.

why did he leave.

why am i the way i am.

peregrine, like the bird — he said, looking up at the sky, a falcon sweeping through the trees. peregrine became perry, a name becomes a wing clipper and over the years my memories has become a game of words — one line after another until i've forgotten what the meaning had been.

peregrine, like the bird.