When I Think Of You I Think Of Red, The Red Of Our Kitchen Walls, The Red That You Always Chose To Colour

Excerpt from wip Dead above

Hollow eyes watching the crowd

it's mid day, It's busy

People rush to stores like beds of fish

Fish with magpie eyes looking for shiny things to take back to their home

The figure watching, Is ignored

To look at those hollow eyes would mean to look at their own magpies ones

To confront the misery and their lack of it

So instead they talk louder as they walk past, they drown out a defeated "excuse m–

Or they become silent, their steps quick and their eyes down as they click and swipe

As the figure with hollow eyes watches you pretend to type.

I would have sent a message but I thought I should send an ask. I love your blog. I love the way you write ad what you write.

I always appreciate a kind ask , especially considering the amount of silly troll ones I get. Thankyou so much 🌼 this was really lovely to hear, I needed something like this today so thankyou🩷🌺🩷🌺🩷

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers. ❣️

It's probably a bit sad that I can't think of 5 off the top of my head. But the quiet moments when there are no worries or things to do hiding on the back burner. When it's raining so heavily outside it feels like the safest warmest place on earth is your bed, and so you lay there with only that thought and feeling for a little while and it's enough. Enough to make the hard things worth it.

Is your username inkspilled spelled wrong and if not what on earth does prilled mean

Lol, no its just part of my name turned into a verb (kinda) which is April if you wanted to know.

Have I become addicted

to the sadness,

has it evolved into a hybrid

of apathy

of melancholy.

Will it stitch itself to my eyelids.

Will it clog up my narrow veins.

Is this the type of pain,

that drives my buried hope insane.

Hope wins every time the sun peaks over the horizon after a long dark night, it softens the day and baths the ground, it warms the air and we breath easier and maybe our souls uncurl a little from that protective crouch we've grown used to, maybe we let our limbs loosen, maybe we let hope sink into our skin, maybe we let it melt our misery from within.

They say write what you know so I will. I want to tell the story of loss and hope. How quickly everything can fall apart , how you can be looking at misery and then suddenly living inside it. How hopes and dreams are a shield against dirty looks but they don't protect your cold hands or feet in the winter months.

I want to tell the story of the forgotten, the ignored. The people sitting against storefronts that are always asked to move move where?

I want to tell the story of the tired, the burdened. The children raising their siblings while their parents buy more scratch cards because maybe this time we'll win some money will they snap out of it then?

I want to tell the story of the desperate, the lost. The young person that left everything behind , that sits in cafes but never orders. That uses the free WiFi to check social media accounts of old friends, but can never bring themselves to do so, afraid that they realise they've been forgotten how much longer can I can they hide?

What story do you want to tell?

I don't get out bed most days, I barely remember to drink water and my hyper fixations seem to be doing me more harm than good. But I go to get groceries in the late evening hours, as the birds call out to the fading sun. I can't bring myself to go regularly, but I've been in my house for weeks and the birds are singing and the streets are empty and life seems beautiful and fresh when you walk alone just breathing or singing to your self. I walk over the fly over, closer to the branches that reach up and away from here.

I just awoke from a nightmare. Absolutely horrendous I tell you. There was a koala sized rat/tarantula hybrid and it kept running at me and clamping it's fangs into my hands. This being. This fiend just wouldn't let up, it was relentless, I have phantom pains in my hands. But To be fair it might have just been extremely pissed off and offended, because the moment it toppled out of a backpack, I gagged and held up a blanket like it was garlic and a cross.