Latch [2. 3. 24]

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

greetings, my alstroemeriaceae. i just want to inform you all that i have uploaded some other poetry that sort of touches a different aesthetics on my other page @insanitygirls . so please go check that out. i appreciate the support, and i love you all, bye!!! <3

there is no lucille. [18. 1. 24.]

i wanna be more.

i need to want less.

less to earn,

less to get.

more to give,

more to learn.

why can't i keep the things that i earn?

must you rip them from me?

under and out from my hands?

my accomplishments are yours,

because we are friends.

but now we aren't friends.

no friendship seeds verdant.

don't expect me to again

remove this burden.

look what you've done.

look what you've made.

eat it all up,

dont avoid your plate.

no efforts of yours were verdant,

refrain from writing of letters,

you've sewed what you've sent.

now wanting to be friends?

now wanting to repent?

your accomplishments are mine,

because we were friends.

you and only you...

are the burden.

Copyright © 2024 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.

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

there will never be a lucille. [20. 1. 24.]

the heart of she continues to beat,

but she is dead.

the pupils of she keep on intaking,

but she provides no output.

the limbs, the blood, the grace.

the reputation, the responsibility, the face.

the sins that flood the grave.

she needs help,

she'll never be able to obtain.

she is gorgeous,

she's glamour.

she tries not to think yet,

her mind is clamoured.

she's gorgeous,

she is glamour.

she's staring death in the face and

send off bouquets stare right back at her.

a stare so comforting,

so sweet.

her feet gently pushed the chair to the side.

her body flies; so eager for death to meet.

the road was hard.

her soul, now fed.

the heart of she used to continue to beat,

but now she is dead.

Copyright © 2024 Cattille Quettea

lay claim [10. 8. 24]

when will it be my turn?

to rightfully see what i learned?

to righteously claim what i've earned.

when will it be my turn?

can you stop denying a lady a right to her life?

can you stop denying your ladies their merriment and light?

can you stop denying the ladies their birthright?

because ever since we were born, we've had to fight.

that simply isn't right, for you close out our light...

now is it?

we are made of flesh, blood and bones.

never once have we been left alone.

greedy hands and greedy men.

greedy eyes, from them, ourselves we must defend.

the laws that are in place

do not change the mindsets of the space.

we want to be seen,

level and equal,

not the greater of the two evils.

to that, we wern.

so when will it be my turn?

to rightfully see what i learned?

to righteously claim what i've earned.

when will it be my turn?

..._...

delicacy and respect cannot be decided on, practiced and maintained in a day.

if it was, the world would be in the best way:

an echo chamber of buoyant, auspicious ideas

and everyone, willing to listen.

no proposing to deaf ears.

but why is a universe like this seen as wild.

because when you disagree,

some see it's fitting to act as a child.

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

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

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