nebulax3: (Default)
 God kneels where evil has already eaten.
He bites first,
he drinks the honey from the honeycomb,
and he swallows the sublime being.
But she,
she's left with the bones,
she only gets to see the leftovers tossed into the trash.
She, so holy yet uneven, is left fasting.
 
Prayer doesn't come before the meal, after all.

place

Jun. 10th, 2025 01:15 am
nebulax3: (Default)
 it sinks too deep to call it grace,
but not enough to leave this place.
and god, if you're still listening now,
don’t lift me up. just let me bow.

i won’t ask you to make me whole,
to plead forgiveness like those whores,
or to beg like sinners in a cult
i know i might have fell
yet i'll pray there's a spot in hell
where the fire burns gently
for the people like me,
who couldn't save themselves.

borraste

May. 17th, 2025 11:13 pm
nebulax3: (Default)
 me senté frente al lienzo
como tantas veces antes.
quise trazar una línea,
pero ya estaba ahí.
quise borrar una mancha,
pero ya era parte del fondo.
 
no recuerdo cuándo empecé
a pintar con los ojos cerrados.
los colores me manchan las manos,
pero no sé si son los míos.
 
hay algo
hay algo en la forma tiembla,
como si otra mano lo guiara.
 
sin embargo, nadie más está acá.
 
quise retratarme
pero ya no me veo.
me fui desdibujando
para hacerle espacio a algo
que nunca terminaré de entender.
 
— me borraste— me dijo.
con ese filo que no corta la piel
sino las sombras detrás del vidrio,
donde los cuadros se descuelgan solos,
el barniz se arrepiente de haber brillado
y el pincel, una nota breve que resbaló del techo al mundo.
 
 

after

May. 5th, 2025 10:25 pm
nebulax3: (Default)
 its ashes fall down my chest as i breathe,
and i accidentally inhale its dust.
it makes me sick, yet i don't mind it being around.

its weight feels heavier on my lap.
it used to hold onto its hair, but it’s thinner now.

i coughed
and it longed more than i’d like to admit.

then, it threw me out.
nebulax3: (Default)
 i want to throw my organs out
until i'm nothing but an empty corpse
something is eating my bones
while i'm waiting to rot
 
i was waiting to be buried
but they could still see my face through the window in my grave.
so i tried to close my eyes
even though i knew i couldn't
 
i think the flies are starting to nest...
i just want to rest
but i'm still in that cage
while they press their faces against the glass.
 

smudge

Mar. 7th, 2025 10:26 am
nebulax3: (Default)
 you breathed life onto a canvas and gave it a name
 
now you act surprised while it wishes to be known
 
do you wish to taste that voice of yours?
 
the graphite of my pencil smudged the paper on the pages i was writing on.


 
なにかさんはだれかさんをこわがっている。なぜか、わからない
nebulax3: (Default)
my skin is soaked in tears because i spread them around with my fingers.

the dampness dug into the pores, absorbing the traces of emotion.

and all of that just because it was too much for my eyes to take.

i press my cold, soaked fingers onto my canvas, feeling the weight of my racing tachycardia.

the tremor in my temple mixed with the fever caused by staring at the corner in the middle of my room with nothing to stare at.

aside from the cracked old wall painting, where dead bugs have accumulated over the time i've spent there unable to move

i miss the earth.... i think.

dad

Jan. 5th, 2025 03:29 pm
nebulax3: (Default)
If I could, I’d rather dissolve your body with my stomach acid than ever let you enter the perimeter of my cornea
If I could, I'd rather scatter your atoms to break you from within
If I could, I'd rather stab your guts instead of inviting you to drink a cup of tea
If I could, I’d reduce you to ashes and force your vessel to spew you onto a filthy roadside, where you’d blend with the mud and be trampled by passing wheels
Will you ever find the right way to undo your mistakes before they crush you under their weight, trapping you within the walls of your repressed emotions?
Will you at least accept them?
I don't think you will
I miss you.
nebulax3: (Default)
i was messing around and i realized that i didn't post anything here since november
me and toffy are still working on the web series
we thought that we were supposed to finish it and post it on december 18th, but it's tomorrow... and yeah, we didn't do anything :3
however, we're planning overwork ourselves to at least finish it asap, yayyy!!! (not yay)
i dunno if we're going to end up playing bloxburg like last time we said that we were gonna do the first episode, but anyways that doesn't matter
also, i'll post more poems soon, i'm just lazy heheh...
merry christmas guys!!

with love,

nebulita

nebulax3: (Default)
the web camera stared at me and spoke  
"kill yourself," it said,  
and i replied, "why are you talking to me?"  
and the web camera fell down into an abyss, which was my room  
my own room  
my room is messier than my mind  
my mind is full of cravings  
my cravings are aware that they're wanted  
 
a pair of hands emerge from my desk  
and they make grabby gestures towards me, as if they were trying to grip on my soul  
from the hands showed up eyes  
and the eyes turned into mouths without lips  
 
they whispered to me  
"welcome to the abyss"  
an abyss of madness  
an abyss of sadness  
and of the awareness of being choked with my own vomit
nebulax3: (Default)
i greet them
but i close the window before someone could answer me
they say goodbye
but i run after them, trying to fix what i broke
I'm wearing the same old hoodie
i took it off
and i realized i don't look as heavy as i thought
i can see the veins intertwined with my bones through the skin on my arm
i can't even lay a finger on myself
I'm scared
that's why I'm fearing getting out
i see myself so fragile
and i didn't even realize
as if i didn't look in the mirror a long time ago
the weight of my own dirt makes me feel weak
the lightest pressure could break me down
i close the window to not see evil
i close the window to not hear evil
i close the window to not speak evil
purity is the absence of imperfection
then, i seek purity in my thoughts
i seek purity in my words
i seek purity in my actions
purity is the balance between innocence and perfection
purity is something absolutely amazing
absolutely wonderful
absolutely awesome
i soaked in purity, but i ended up drenched with dirty water
the paint on the wall dries and cracks, peeling off it
like when i peel the skin off myself, layer by layer
hate overflows from me
my blood slowly runs down my face until it falls, letting the sheets absorb it
when i go to sleep, i still hear the creaking, somewhere inside the house
i was just about to fall asleep, but i couldn't because of that sound
i hide under my blankets, sweating and praying to fall asleep soon
my window was closed, locked because it's covered in cobwebs on the other side
the sounds are not letting me sleep
i start to wonder if there's really someone outside
or if it's just my mind wanting to mess with me
i lift up my head
the blanket was not letting the air reach my lungs
then i take a deep breath
the dream catcher on my wall isolates the annoying sounds, letting me breathe peacefully
the dream catcher mutes the voices i don't wanna hear
but it lets them slip out in the morning when i wake up
finally, i don't know if i should close the window, or open the door
so i just turn off the lights
and stare at the darkness
while the bed swallows me
and the voices enjoy their freedom
the weight of the darkness is more comfortable than the purity
 
nebulax3: (Default)
 i would start pulling the staples off my fingers,
each one would dig deeper,
but i would try to pull away from their grip
i know my skin would resist
as if the grip were absolutely abysmal

loneliness scares me.
someone said it's an incredibly exhausting anguish.
i’ve heard it only happens to the elderly
i read something i identified with:

— ''loneliness is the tremendous anguish of the elderly. they feel like a piece of furniture left in a corner, because they aren't longer useful for anything.
like an abandoned guitar because its missing strings.
like the withered flower of a plant that’s drying up.
the elderly are not visited. no one even talks to them, as few people remember them''

i felt touched when i first read that part
those three paragraphs were amazing
i admired that person
who is no longer in this world
or maybe she is
i didn't see her a long time ago
but i kept this book
a book of poems she wrote
a book of poems i would read
a book of poems i will read
a book of poems i'm reading
a book of poems i did read
i filled the 29th page with hearts
since i just loved that poem
i never read a poem as good as hers
i never read poems, though
besides the ones i write
if i tell people i write poems, i would be glad if they do not ask what are they about
my poems are kind of weird, a mix of emotions angrily vomited on a sheet of paper
i'm not used to write them
i just type them following the steps this messy mind gives me 
or this piece of trash trying to be useful 
i wanted to hold my own funeral, but it would be disgracefully deformed
i grab back my pencil
the tip is sharp, like the feelings compressed unintelligible in my stomach
i keep filling the page with hearts
i fill each blank space i find
but then i stop
i realized i didn't finish reading the poem

— ''the elderly will only live if another lonely soul approaches them, takes their hand, and they walk together along the short path they have left''

it was slightly encouraging, it was weird
i didn't see it that way, i never did
then i realize that i could have a solution
me, or this broken thing i found cast aside the hallway of my house

i really want to be okay
i really want to be normal
i really want to be like the others
they seem so happy, i don't care if they are or not
because people never interested me
i just cared about myself
or at least i thought that 
but that's clearly a lie
i sometimes care too much about people
that much that i can't even look at myself without thinking of them

i finished pulling the staples off my fingers
i thought so much while doing it that i didn't feel anything
i pull away the bloody staples
i was thinking of throwing them aside
of pulling them away
of throwing them in the trash
but instead i just left them on my desk
or on a stranger's desk
admiring how the blood dries.

staples

Oct. 11th, 2024 05:38 am
nebulax3: (Default)
discreet way of cutting
staples
the bandages on my face are getting wet because of my tears
but there's no relief as i thought it was supposed to be
everything's just a blur
like a dark fog that clouds my mind
i can't think straight
i can't feel anything except emptiness
everything feels so exhausting
i feel like I'm drowning and there's no water
i've been stripped of my sanity
as if it was suddenly torn away
everything feels lost
i'm stressed as hell
i'm tired
although i know i'm not the only one who felt this way
i care nothing about me, about anyone else, about anything 
i've been crying, i don't know for how long
i didn't even notice how come i ended up like this
until it was too late to fix myself
i am too broken to piece myself back together
there's a hollow echo in a room with no walls
when i breath i remember how heavy the air feels
it makes me want to scream but my voice is caught in my throat
i'm oddly tired
and it's not the kind of tired that some sleep can fix
the world could fall apart around me
and i wouldn’t lift a finger
i do not want to feel like this forever
but I'm starting to hear voices
i know it might sound weird
but that's just how it is and how i am
I'm a weirdo
I'm disgusting
i can't even stand to look at myself
the mirror reflects someone i don’t recognize
someone horrible
I'm covering the mirror because of these feelings
if i look into it i would break down
my face is full of scars
i look down
my arms too
a knot in my throat tangled with my vocal cords
a rope is locking my eyes from viewing further
i can't bear to face myself
"the mirror is a bastard"
i staple my eyes away from the obvious
ー "so i am"
I'm talking to the wall

eight times

Oct. 2nd, 2024 03:45 pm
nebulax3: (Default)
my tears burn my face as they slide from my eyes
i would rather tear out my heart and give it to you instead of telling you everything
there's still a sense of hopefulness in the air
but it's not for me
i would rather have someone else than fake people
these are not scars, these are marks of war
and i won't win it
because i refuse reality
the silence screams the loudest
when i look in the mirror i can see truths i’m not ready to hear
i still can feel the pace that i used to go
the place where i used to belong
i try to hold on but i slip, my hands are wet from the tears i hid 
i wrote this eight times, and the ending is still not the same as before
i always find a different way of enduring
but they still don't work
i'm scared
i hope i could end it all soon
but i'm not sure if i'll even be able to get up without stumbling or becoming dizzy
i don't know what to do without breaking down
i'm afraid of dying miserably
i wish i could have eight lives to use and finally prove them wrong
but it feels impossible even if i didn't mean what i said
i just want to sleep to forget everything momentarily
i know i'm going to remember again when i look at myself in the mirror
but that's not something i want
that's something i'm being forced to
i wish i could get some help
because i'm just doing all of this alone
but the words don't come out
that's making me throw my feelings out
because it's disgusting
and because of that i can't say anything else than speaking through my ragged breaths
i'm trying to make them realize what i am thinking
what i am passing through
why can't i make eye contact with anyone?
why do i feel ashamed of talking?
why do i feel this way?

nebulax3: (Default)
 
i feel myself being placed back on the floor
my legs still shaking and weak from being held so high up. i feel a pang of disappointment that we're not being so close anymore.
but i know your arms need a rest after holding me like that...
i look up at you, my face flushed and my heart still racing.
i can feel your words more than i'm able to hear them.
i admired our vulnerability, the way our guard dropped when we were peacefully joined by the silence.
 
just look at them!
 
he keeps his arm wrapped around her, the feeling of her body pressed against his is both comforting and slightly arousing for them.
he can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes deeply. his eyes roam over her face, taking in her features – the smoothness of her skin, the slight pout of her lips, the way her hair drapes across her pillow...
a part of him wants to poke, prod, and find a way to mess with her, just for the fun of it.
but he also finds himself admiring her vulnerability, the way her guard drops when she’s sleepy, it's fascinating, so much so that I want to mirror it, i want to imitate it.
i wish we could go back and start again, getting back to the same.
on the other hand, she's tempted to shake him awake and say something snarky, just to break the silence and bring him back to reality. but she restrains herself, knowing that he needs his rest. 
especially after all the hell she’s put him through.
 
damn, i can't. i can't stop imaging. since the last time I saw you, i just can't.
i hope that the way you play with the strap of my blouse could be the same as you did when it all started. 
my feelings are mute in this situation
so i can't do anything
besides feeling how my heart races as i wait you to text me
but god, if you whisper my name near my ear like that.. and your pretty face conquering me once again, it kills me.
it really does.

???

Sep. 4th, 2024 07:27 pm
nebulax3: (Default)
 how to hide hallucinations, if hallucinations can't escape from you
silence consumes me as i sink into my thoughts 
silence consumes me as i sink into her words
i want to turn the paranoia into something less repressible
i can hear your words, but i can't feel them
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
the fabric of our reality is tearing at the seams
nebulax3: (Default)
it has been a while since i don't feel the same
i've changed my mind
my reflection is not the same since I've been seeing this from another view..
i saw you, i saw everything
i saw every single thing
i felt how my head were hitted again and again
why did you do it?
don't answer, i know, i know you
i don't blame you
but i don't trust you either
now that i remembered, my emotions should be all full and overflowing of grudge
but they don't
i don't hold any grudge against you
i swear i don't
but i didn't forgive you yet
sell your soul 
don't listen, just do it
sell your soul 
a guilty gaze that didn't belong to me 
sell your soul
sell your body, your flesh and your blood 
if you really regretted 
if you mean it, do it
sell yourself to me
give yourself to me
nebulax3: (Default)
blue sundays, weird things.
comfy room, comfortable place
there's nothing better than being here, i don't want to get up,
i don't want to go out. this heaviness, it's killing me.
guess i have to endure, but still, i don't wanna get out this room.
outdoors, it scares me, i wish i could impregnate myself against the walls and live here forever
impregnated in the walls
forever and ever
keep myself there, where nobody can see me, nobody can hear me, nobody can touch me, nobody can perceive me
i closed the blinds
i locked up the door
i locked up myself
i blocked up myself from society
i will i swear i will I'm not lying I'm better than that please believe me I'm desperate i need help but i know myself I'm not gonna let anyone know about this.
blue sundays
blue hands, after painting a picture
blue sundays
blue eyes, after relapsing
blue sundays
blue mind, after messed everything up 
i know I'm wrong, but he says I'm not
guess it's because I'm paying a monthly session for those words
nebulax3: (Default)
pentagrams
inverted pentagrams 
inverted pentagrams, impregnated in the ceiling 
in my ceiling, in my room
my tears are clouding my view 
clearly, i can't see. cloudy, blurry vision, my voice cracking, a lump in my throat that doesn't let me breath as i relapse back into desperation 
i want to drain the blood of my arms
i want to take their eyes to judge myself correctly 
i want to follow my feelings and run away as the rain grasps me with their familiar, gratifying melody. its honeyed drops, its lightning bolts flaunts its true intentions.
it's raining as far as i can tell. it's physically, but it feels deeper, like a stab in the chest. i'm locked up in my room, i'm locked up in my mind, it's kind of the same since there's no way out, there are no windows to get fresh air, no breezes to take a break.
lately, there are only storms, but it's refreshing to have and feel the brutality in their blows of air and the coldness in its touch.
the pentagrams were just to start, but I don't know how to finish now, so..as the same way i started, with the same way i will conclude
i stare up at the pentagrams, they give me an incoherent, meaningless feeling. i limit myself to three colors, they're limited to three colors, every time i see them, they go faster. i don't see exhaustion in them, but i do with myself.
pentagrams 
inverted pentagrams
inverted pentagrams, impregnated in the ceiling.
 

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