Bishop's recent activity

  1. The Ward; and a goodbye to Tildes.

    ~creative Text 300 words
    First, the piece. I built a fire from the branches which were missed by the snow. Drank the water of the cacti that in deserts still grow. Found the shade in the south where the sun forever glows....

    First, the piece.

    I built a fire from the branches

    which were missed by the snow.

    Drank the water of the cacti

    that in deserts still grow.

    Found the shade in the south

    where the sun forever glows.

    Clawed and scraped my way to freedom

    of likes I have never known.

    .

    A starved, abandoned cub

    lost in Greenlandic champaign -

    I pawed about the lifeless floors

    of snow-imprisoned plains.

    With wind ill-matted fur I marched

    and shivered through the rain

    in search of hearts and hearths to

    make me home again.

    .

    A ward of warmth appeared, assumed

    to aid my ailing mews.

    A securing shawl of summer softened

    me from winters shrewd.

    A multitude of miracles revealed

    rejuvenating news.

    I concluded countless colder winds

    are warmer without you.

    This site has given me so much: peace of mind, freedom of expression, cathartic release, and a sense of care and community of which I, over the last number of months, have deeply been in need.

    Things are looking ever forward as I continue on about adult life. However, included in those plans of forward-action are a number of artistic pursuits.

    In search of some semblance of belonging and community, I revealed a lot about myself in various posts and comments I’ve left about Tildes; and made the mistake of not publishing my works separately or under a pseudonym.

    I would like to publish a book of poetry, release paintings, and create music. However, I don’t feel comfortable continuing to do so under my real name.

    I will be well; I’m in a better place now. (Personally, of course. Not like that.) It’s simply time for me to separate the art from the artist, as it were.

    Thank you all, so much, Tildes. I love you.

    It’s been fun.

    Bishop.

    29 votes

  4. chocolate.

    ~creative Text 364 words
    My phone sits, as I, in silence In my room – alone. I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy To dig into my bones. When I was younger I was told that One day God would call me home. Instead the...

    My phone sits, as I, in silence

    In my room – alone.

    I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy

    To dig into my bones.

    When I was younger I was told that

    One day God would call me home.

    Instead the coffin calls my name in whispers

    And beckons the unknown.

    .

    Why do I feed a body with a

    Soul that keeps depleting?

    When all my hopes and expectations come up

    Short and keep receding – I

    Start alternating between plotting,

    Thinking, pleading

    That I’ll make a rash decision, they’ll

    Give my organs to the needy.

    .

    Perhaps I’ll drive a stake into my head and chest.

    No one should endure this mind or heart.

    Meditation never seemed to give much value,

    All the medication felt a farce.

    I’m an incongruent, uncompleted puzzle

    Dangling from a bridge; falling apart.

    I watch my pieces sink below into the water,

    As this letter dances all about the hearth.

    .

    I carried out important shit in boxes;

    Let the rest behind to be thrown away.

    I hid and watched as they threw in the dumpster,

    A bed now wrought with chocolate and decay.

    As the memories flashed in to my brain,

    Of how we chose to spend that final day.

    (Of how) even on the best day of the end of my life,

    I ended up naked, chocolate-covered, curled up on your chest and crying,

    Begging you to stay.

    .

    The devil is a myth they tell believers;

    Hell prevents their chasing earthly dreams.

    I will not go to Heaven, and there is no Great Receiver

    Who will comfort me and silence my screams.

    There is no purgatory in the ether;

    The earth is this one act’s final scene.

    Fittingly, the water isn’t beautiful here either.

    It’s choppy, warm, and a putrid shade of green.

    .

    Someone use my hands to write a sonnet.

    Someone use my eyes to see a better day.

    Someone use my legs to climb a mountain;

    Use my tongue to find the words to say.

    They’ll use my lungs to feel the oxygen.

    Use my kidney when theirs is in decay.

    They’ll use my heart to feel in love again.

    I’ll rest easier that way.

    10 votes

  5. What do you want someone to ask you about?

    ~talk Ask (survey)
    Did something cool recently, and no one’s bothered to ask? Got some stuff on your chest, and no one’s checking in? Super passionate about a niche topic that not too many people think of? Toss your...

    Did something cool recently, and no one’s bothered to ask?

    Got some stuff on your chest, and no one’s checking in?

    Super passionate about a niche topic that not too many people think of?

    Toss your question-hopeful here, and let someone pop it!

    37 votes

  7. [Kind Words] moonlight masochist\

    ~creative Text 263 words
    I keep on my journey when the world's asleep, searching you out, like a bewildered sheep. If you'll come to my aid when you see me- with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets. It must...

    I keep on my journey when the world's asleep,

    searching you out, like a bewildered sheep.

    If you'll come to my aid when you see me-

    with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets.

    It must be the price of my earthly sin,

    that I've no food or water for nourishment

    that I crawl alone, in the dark, hoping.

    I am the moonlight masochist.

    ..

    So hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

    Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

    Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

    Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

    Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

    Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

    Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

    My moonlight masochist matriarch.

    ..

    I cough as I choke on the poisoned air.

    No one around who seems to care -

    Save for two beady eyes who approach and glare,

    a thin coyote with a hungry stare.

    I only hear howls in monotone

    as two other dogs come sniff my throat

    But at least when they carry off my bones,

    I can kinda say I never died alone.

    ..

    Hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

    Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

    Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

    Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

    Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

    Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

    Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

    My moonlight masochist matriarch.

    7 votes

  8. boats. (or, Kintsugi Bitch.)

    ~creative Text 384 words
    I was a kintsugi bitch A dull, forgotten, broken pot And then you fixed me up . You lined me with your own dweomercrafted brand of gold Lac, Mel, et Saccharum . And when you’d starve me for...

    I was a kintsugi bitch

    A dull, forgotten, broken pot

    And then you fixed me up

    .

    You lined me with your own

    dweomercrafted brand of gold

    Lac, Mel, et Saccharum

    .

    And when you’d starve me for attention,

    Fed me more from your breast

    Til you filled me up

    .

    And then I’d look you in the eyes

    Sugar broiling in the stomach

    Am I pretty now

    ..

    Lost, full, and quite ignored

    When you had leapt onto the floor

    And said we’ve got to go

    .

    I grabbed your hand and followed blind

    My stomach churned I lagged behind

    You were the love I know

    .

    You said we’re going to the sea

    My dear you’ll spend a life with me

    We’ll make the waves a home

    .

    And I smiled ear to ear

    Cheeks were blushing like a deer

    Am I pretty now

    ..

    And then we made it to the bay

    quickly climbed into a boat

    They never have to know

    .

    We headed south for centuries

    They cannot take the memories

    I never hunger now

    .

    And after weeks of solitude

    A stranger came into the view

    There was another boat

    .

    My stomach burned, concerned,

    Not a soul had stood astern

    You produced a rope

    ..

    You gave a gentle kiss

    And slid the twine across my wrists

    And tied them into knots

    Dipped my legs into the water

    Either hand tied either helm

    Stretched into a cross

    I looked up at you in fear

    Just to see you’ve disappeared

    I started crying out.

    My stomach burned under the water

    And the sun was getting hotter

    And I’m all alone.

    I pleased come to feed me

    Don’t leave me weak, depleting

    I got no response.

    The fish were getting curious

    Flies buzzed something furious

    They knew what I did not

    That if you leave out milk and honey

    In the heat, in weather sunny,

    It’ll start to rot.

    .

    Months had passed in sickly motion

    Head leaned back, my eyes were open

    I died long ago.

    The bugs ate at my open mouth

    My skin was yellow, wrought with drought

    My throat housed a mold

    The waters smelled of sulfate

    As the serpents ate my stomach ache

    My blood has washed away

    The rope gave up on hope and

    Threw my purple, molten corpse into the ocean

    Am I pretty now?

    .

    .

    .

    5 votes

  9. hey i have a question

    ~creative Text 190 words
    it's kinda silly kinda nothing but i was thinkin kinda wondering hey. if i asked. would you pick the loose string from my sweater bring a blanket in cloudy weather go with me on an adventure give...

    it's kinda silly

    kinda nothing

    but i was thinkin

    kinda wondering

    hey.

    if i asked.

    would you pick the loose string from my sweater

    bring a blanket in cloudy weather

    go with me on an adventure

    give a little hug, a little pressure

    would you grab a little snack

    put my favorite towel on the rack

    hear me sing, and try not to laugh

    or light a blunt, hit twice, and pass

    help me dye my hair

    tell me i look cute in underwear

    text me just to say you're there

    snap your cookie just to share

    or rub my neck soft when it hurts

    tell my i've a way with words

    walk to the park when wind's absurd

    just to sip a tea and watch the birds

    tell me that you like my lips

    pick me clothes out for a trip

    head to the lake to skinny dip

    and blush a bit because you like my hips

    could you

    sweat with me at the gym

    fill our popcorn to the brim

    say that this shirt makes me look slim

    and maybe love me limb from limb

    instead of him

    .

    .

    .

    18 votes

  10. metaphysical sigh.

    ~creative Text 169 words
    one day i will die one day so will you. the pictures on the wall will end up in the trash or old and tattered in an attic. our greatest of great-grandkids won't know our faces or how deeply we...

    one day

    i will die

    one day

    so will you.

    the pictures on the wall

    will end up in the trash

    or old and tattered

    in an attic.

    our greatest of great-grandkids

    won't know our faces or

    how deeply we were saddened

    to never see them grow

    to never learn the world they know

    to never speak their modern language

    or watch the trees around them

    grow.

    for we'll be dead in the ground

    and we'll never hear a sound

    for what comes next ain't only silence

    it ain't blood and it ain't violence

    it just

    ain't.

    so for now we're killing time perhaps

    we'll get laid or

    learn to paint.

    but in the end, it all goes out

    into the trash

    into the dust

    and rest assured

    into the ground.

    .

    if you choose to abuse me

    i'd rather hear threats for ever than

    hear no sound.

    because if you're still here to hurt me

    i can say that someone

    stuck around.

    .

    .

    .

    before i'm buried in the ground.

    9 votes

  15. what’s the most drastic choice you’ve ever made in your life? how’d it turn out?

    ~talk Ask
    gotta have a body here, but i don’t want to run into that former askreddit problem, so here are some of my favorite bodies instead: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bog_of_Allen...

    gotta have a body here, but i don’t want to run into that former askreddit problem, so here are some of my favorite bodies instead:

    https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bog_of_Allen

    https://open.spotify.com/artist/3xYXYzm9H3RzyQgBrYwIcx?nd=1

    http://classics.mit.edu/Antoninus/meditations.html

    https://www.wikipedia.org

    19 votes

  16. Eldritch Love.

    ~creative Text 498 words
    Longest piece to date? Last night I saw a beast four different heads with blackened eyes. Not black in metaphor, but from the blood that dried inside. Each of seven legs was mangled and the beast...

    Longest piece to date?

    Last night I saw a beast

    four different heads with blackened eyes.

    Not black in metaphor, but from

    the blood that dried inside.

    Each of seven legs was mangled

    and the beast was blind

    but she could fly.

    .

    Once upon a night so dreary,

    and so dreadful I

    came across a weathered bar

    a woman stood inside.

    She sat me at a table, there was

    not a soul in sight

    but I felt fine.

    .

    Then she brought a glass of dark with

    something new inside.

    Leaned in close and whispered to me

    "Baby, close your eyes."

    I parted my lips and drank as

    her hand guided mine.

    My guard resigned.

    .

    She said "I know a place where you can

    truly feel alive.

    Each one of your problems fall

    defenseless by your side."

    And she wrapped her arms around me

    I contently sighed

    as she took flight.

    Her wretched and misshapen legs

    held me close to her chest.

    She let out her warning cries

    i inhaled every breath.

    Her claws were creeping out I

    fell upon them like a bed.

    I laid to rest.

    .

    I fell into a home so oddly

    shallow and recessed.

    The walls were made of rock,

    a water drop fell on my head.

    There was no single light,

    the ceiling lowered as she led

    me to her den.

    .

    As I looked around the room birthed

    questions in my head.

    So opposite the warmth that she

    had first on me impressed...

    She stroked my cheek, claws on my chin

    my heart fluttered, digressed.

    I was possessed.

    .

    She laid me on the floor and stood with

    five legs for each end.

    One aside my head and feet

    another at my hands.

    Then she gently laid a blanket

    down over my head,

    "Shall we commence?"

    I still feel it so vividly

    each night I fall asleep,

    the fused infatuated fear I felt

    at a monster's feet,

    when that heinous eldritch horror

    drained my blood from me,

    took me for libation, prayed a tithe

    she poured me out.

    Her heart could call the kettle as it,

    too, went black in drought

    She bore her fangs and lowered,

    took my body in her mouth.

    She then carried me cliffside, like a dog

    she threw me down.

    My corpse then fell so far, on

    impact, no audible sound.

    The final earthly thing I heard,

    her shriek, "The Gods are proud."

    Now upon each night so dreary, she

    crawls out to find

    a source of poor, defenseless blood

    that she can sacrifice.

    She'll lure them in with gentle kisses

    and sapphire eyes.

    We all will die.

    Epilogue.

    On my way to death, I was met

    with a choice instead.

    I could end my life or help

    ensure the gods were fed.

    In the heat of fear and pain I

    then nodded my head.

    The halls of purgatory filled with

    screams and smells of death,

    as my eyes dried from the inside

    and I then begat

    five extra legs.

    6 votes

  17. 12:08

    ~creative Text 297 words
    So what’s the deal with offices, amirite? What if we gave a building full of adults enough money to get by. Oh, and also they have to drive 30-60 minutes to get here. And that time they spend on...

    So what’s the deal with offices, amirite?

    What if we gave a building full of adults enough money to get by. Oh, and also they have to drive 30-60 minutes to get here. And that time they spend on the way here? Yeah what if they just gave us that for free, and we made them pay for parking!

    I know, I know, fantastic right? But listen, it’s not over yet. What if we also made the work pointlessly constrained to a particular 8-hour block in the day, five days a week so that they never have any personal time, even though this is all work they could get done in four hours a day and is fully capable of being completed on their own?

    Fabulous!

    ——

    So yeah, I don’t have free time. That means I’ve got a few half-ass pieces that I’ve been wanting to finish up for awhile.

    Apparently bars are open today, so I’m gonna get sauced and get to it. Prepare for a small dump today. (Also I got some dummy minor news imma share in another post. Stay tuned if you want. Or don’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ all’s well.

    Anyway here’s that piece now.

    ——-

    I remember that time I forgot your

    birthday

    And that time was today

    At 12:08 in the morning

    And for a moment

    I felt great.

    .

    My dear that was the first sign

    That you were

    Slipping on out of my mind

    Today I’m sober in the morning

    Feelin okay.

    .

    Well well-butrin what a surprise

    When it done

    Come on back to my mind

    Now it’s 12:09 in the morning

    And ain’t shit changed.

    .

    And in those 60 seconds

    Girl I swear

    I learned a lesson -

    Depression is a woman

    With your name.

    10 votes

  18. lunch date. (the love poem.)

    ~creative Text 160 words
    Today I found a girl Who was pretty nice To me. She made me stop and talk And rest and breathe. She said your stomach growls, Your legs Are weak. How’d you like to come And sit With me? . And my...

    Today I found a girl

    Who was pretty nice

    To me.

    She made me stop and talk

    And rest

    and breathe.

    She said your stomach growls,

    Your legs

    Are weak.

    How’d you like to come

    And sit

    With me?

    .

    And my how time it flew

    And passed

    Us by.

    Lunch turned into tea

    Turned in-

    to night.

    The way her body curved

    It shaped

    My mind.

    And then her laugh,

    Her smile,

    Her eyes.

    .

    Would you mind if I stayed

    For an hour or two

    Or three?

    We could sit and talk

    And laugh

    And crawl between the sheets.

    And maybe I can stay the night

    Or two

    Or three?

    And you’ll hold onto me.

    And we can spend forever

    Cus talk

    Is cheap.

    And maybe nights will

    Slowly carve a curve and crash on

    Into weeks.

    Maybe we’ll be cuddled

    On the couch or sipping

    Sex on the beach

    Maybe I could stay

    For life, just

    You, and me.

    9 votes

  19. Wild Turkey 101

    ~creative Text 228 words
    i got fire in my blood Wild Turkey and the nicotine might just call my doctor have him put me on amphetamines driving past the memories i'm pushing on 100 speed crossing single-white lines with a...

    i got fire in my blood

    Wild Turkey and the nicotine

    might just call my doctor

    have him put me on amphetamines

    driving past the memories

    i'm pushing on 100 speed

    crossing single-white lines

    with a blade til my bones weak.

    cold-brew hipster

    gothboi fantasies

    hard to think straight when

    my thoughts are attacking me

    here i let the voices out

    inner demons writing rhapsodies

    before i go and swing from

    a noose and a dramatic tree

    .

    can't decide what i want between

    freedom and consistency

    i say i want it done

    but i think i want her missing me

    last week i bought a gun*

    this week i went to therapy

    when will i be free from all the

    thermo-manic tendencies?

    .

    drowning in my bed

    breathing wild turkey

    i couldn't feel if i were dead,

    but i like the way she hurts me

    i've come to know the pain

    it's like a second home to me

    liquor novocaine

    im falling from autonomy.

    if mecca was a bedroom

    girl you were a God to me

    and laying here alone is

    a wicked act of blasphemy.

    never knew you were a snake

    feeding hate from an apple tree

    I'll chop it down, and build a tomb

    so you can hold me,

    as an effigy

    (* didnt actually buy a gun. me no like. literally 0 plans to.)

    7 votes

  20. the law of averages (fuck math)

    ~creative Text 114 words
    short one. wrote it sober, so i couldn't (didn't?) really expand on it. either way, just bought a bottle for the first time since shit happened but i don't plan on going too crazy this time. then...

    short one. wrote it sober, so i couldn't (didn't?) really expand on it.

    either way, just bought a bottle for the first time since shit happened but i don't plan on going too crazy this time.

    then again, do i plan half the shit i do? or am i just constantly fumbling my way up through life.

    either way here's some shit about math.

    enjoy.

    You said I was the one

    But that was only when you managed

    To get some rest, and breathe, and

    Keep yourself from going rabid

    But must of the time you

    Wore your claws out like a savage

    So if we’re being honest I‘m the

    .08 on average.

    9 votes