Display [29. 4. 24]

demolish [7. 4. 25.]

exposure,

closure.

for sure,

i definitely need more...

more of it.

for i crave it like nothing else.

i'm in a space,

one with a fairly comforting embrace.

for i know it's just a burst of blackened energy.

but when it becomes rosy,

i'll hold close my posy.

looking at the petals for faith...

looking at the leaves for an esplanade...

looking-- the stems, for they are pretty waif...

and looking to the browned roots for gen.

Copyright © 2025 Cattille Quettea

hey, my alstroemeriaceae! cattille here! you have spoken, and i will listen!!!

a new poem series is on the way!!! cannot give you a set date on when it will happen but will be soon. especially since i'm out of school for now.

everlast [1. 7. 24.]

i finally went to a park, getting fresh air outside of my lawn.

days without a sole companion,

days seem that they never end,

sun details the darkness.

bugs, they seem as if they're my only ever friends

rises the moon.

other girls had all their fun, all their men.

over them, they do swoon.

but as for me, i am all alone.

my only company is sun, stars and moon.

silence details my darkness,

rotting alone in a finally clean room.

rises the moon.

something's left within a soul,

yearning,

longing,

with no hope.

rises the moon.

longing for a bezzie.

yearning for some sort of paisan.

i've subsist for far too long.

how did i possibly go on?

i did because i've no hope

and there's nothing else to do but cope.

so i stay up late and sleep all day, then rise in the noon.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

FROTH [15. 7. 24.]

[after the "loss" of a shoddy "friend"]

rot, inexplainable rot.

froth, unforgettable froth.

loss, an unfortunate loss.

or is it fortunate?

it's early to determine.

now, i don't feel as if i have lost a single thing.

yet, as of now, i do feel a bit empty.

more room left in my life,

more room for the scar tissues.

more room for building up

and becoming more.

after the wound is cleaned with hydrogen peroxide,

germs are harshly ripped and stripped for it.

froth, stinging froth,

froth, singing froth.

froth, froth, FROTH!

if wishing on a star won't grant me friends,

perhaps nothing will.

and just because i lack companions,

does not means i never lack having time to kill.

loss, silencing loss.

loss, violently loss.

loss, loss, Loss!

but i must occupy my life,

i must occupy my time...

with useful things.

i must occupy mine.

i aspire to not

rot, rot, rot.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

fischer's girls, fischer's girl [31. 5. 24.]

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others, cold as stone.

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

i've recently discovered bobby fischer and dreamt of him lots...

and i've been playing lots of chess.

why are the mad men the most handsome?

and at what they do, always the best?

now that drives me mad.

but if i'm the best, will i go mad too?

not that he would think much of me,

my insignificance similar to that of a shrew.

a pawn, a gawk and goner.

he's right because i am quite lousy at chess...

and i'd like to stay at home.

he's wrong because i can cook

and i don't and won't leave the intellectual affairs alone.

and other than chess, i'm quite good at them.

i wish to be left alone but not to be left like him.

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others, cold as stone.

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

and when i meet my demise, for it, i think my mental would be fit.

during life, people laugh and

my name, they begore.

and i declared i would not be it.

and when i meet my demise, for it, i think my mental would be fit.

i know i will not be missed.

64 squares; a chess board full.

piano chiming in my ears,

dear God, i'm a such fool.

no friends, no company

it's not worth my soul-

nothing is worth just a nobody.

let me descend into madness alone.

free of association with others,

let my descent into madness be mine and mine alone.

i would not be able to fix him,

i'm not even able to fix myself.

i wish i was able to...

to do both.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

latch [2. 3. 24]

oh,

i want him so badly.

oh,

i want somebody oh, so badly.

i don't want to lack in his love.

i want to latch onto him and

i want him to love it.

to love me.

i want him,

i need him.

i need somebody.

i need somebody who sees me as perfect.

if they do, to them i will do the same.

i want to be loved-

for the first and final time.

please oh, please i want just a single man.

no more than one, i want love.

i want true love.

i need it.

i need him to obsessed with.

i need him to need me to be obsessed with.

i need him,

this perfect, non-existent him...

i need this.

i need love.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

spun out [28. 12. 24.]

to drive,

to die,

it's all the same.

my mind,

my heart,

brittle bones and face.

killing yourself for perfection is a way to live.

dying because you cannot achieve it is also a way to wear your skin.

it's nothing.

it's nothing at all.

relish it and watch them fucking fall.

to drive,

to die,

it's all the same.

my mind,

my heart,

brittle bones and face.

i'll drive,

i'll die,

it's all the same.

Copyright © 2025 Cattille Quettea

there was never a lucille. [19. 1. 24.]

everyone worries about the physical purity of the girl, lady, woman.

why doesn't anybody care about the mental purity of the girl, lady and woman?

telling to her keep her hands to herself.

to keep her eyes to herself.

her skin to herself.

her very presence.

but letting others be so quickly to impurify her mind with the red hot dousing of "bitch", "whore", "slut", "broad" and more on the stainless cloth of her psyche.

for that is worse than the judging irises

looking upon her like a virus.

worse than baneful whispers.

she then is mentally messed up for life,

finally proper and put into line by being called such foul monikers.

but, for she has no mind.

no light within her iris, pupils too.

she then is judged for that.

she is then going to be messed for a second time.

she will have nothing lacking in the eyes of the world.

no soul, no mind.

-- for rot has stripped it from her

she will ascend past humanity...

to femininity.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

ratgirl [24. 2. 24]

"why so messy?", is what she asks me.

'why so messy?', is what i think.

none other to blame but myself.

beautiful chaos and beautiful clothes on the floor are my shell.

for i have nobody besides myself.

no friends, nobody else.

outside of my phrontistery,

nobody contacts me.

i am not worth a friend to them yet,

they are worth a friend to me.

then-

at home, all alone.

no matter if the temperature is warm or cold.

no matter if my room's door is opened or closed.

no matter if my speech is silent or bold.

not physically yet,

i'm at home, all alone.

my mind's imagination is organised.

quite organised and clean.

the thought of true friends, a fun life and romance is with what it gleams.

i live in my room,

apathy lives in me.

life is not miserable,

nor is it fun.

it's like this for all but,

at the same time for none.

none other to blame but myself.

beautiful chaos and beautiful clothes on the floor are my shell.

but gosh,

doesn't it look like hell?

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

cattille's core catalogue ['24 - '25]

cattille's catalogue ['24] : lieux, personnes et actions

cattille's catalogue ['25] : pays de rêve