Faster, Heated In This Sweet Space.

ill get my new acrylic markers and ill be mf unstoppable just you wait

side eye

...

oh kim we're really in it now,,,

THOUGHT GAINED: INFERNAL ENGINES

PROBLEM

The world is ending. You know it, your neighbor knows it, the dealer knows it, the jailer knows it, the king and all his men know it. All one has to do is look around to see it— the future is curdling into something pale and incorporeal. The infernal machine that is this stupid world is going to blow, sooner rather than later. So what are you doing? Why are you still here? Why is anyone still here?

SOLUTION

You are doing the only thing worth doing. You are living. *Why,* you ask? Try and remember now. Remember your mother’s hand on your shoulder. Remember the taste of a fresh catch. Remember the times when you were kind to the dogs in the valley and they did not bare their teeth. Remember the weight of a child on your shoulders. Remember the stars throwing their light against the wall of sodium and smog. Remember singing until your throat was raw. Remember crying just as loudly and publicly, and the gentleness with which someone opened your curled fist and pressed a handkerchief into your palm. Crying, laughing, running, eating, screaming, haunting, loving, fighting, fighting, fighting. The fight fuels you, and you fuel the fight. You run yourself ragged just for a chance to keep running. You never stop. You cannot stop. The world depends on it. *You* are the infernal engine. You are the world. And, simply put: you want to live.

peeps that consume tma content and make it trend; i cant stress how funny this 'homophobic vase' yall talk about without context and that the only context i know is that he apparently ate someones husband

for minsungseason2024 over on twt! :)

sunrise, parabellum.

Why do you make everything gay/trans?

why do i wake up in the morning and enjoy the sun on my face the fresh air in my lungs. why do i wonder at the intricacies of nature when i wander among trees. why do i delight in the colors of moss and the muffling qualities of loam like snow. why does my heart alight at the sound of rain, the weight of a storm. why do i smile at the sight of squirrels and birds and gasp at the glimpse of deer or elk. why do i roam. why do i open myself to all that can be known. why do i feel warmth in the presence of friends and curiosity in the presence of strangers. why do i tend gardens and visit oceans. why do i persist in pushing this aching body forward, day after day. why do i live

once i get to scanning my sketchbooks again ill be unstoppable just you wait