Writing Period Dramas In The Discord, Lads

to finding;

hands reaching out towards each other in the depths of the sea, a lone lighthose standing in the midst of the ocean, waves that roar and grow only taller, the sea spray and the salty breeze kissing your face, odd things washing up onto shore, letters written in cursive, effortless script, beholding the words of a lover.

My Storyteller 💜

His hair is grey

And vision is blurred

His spends his day

In bed, one-third.

He taught me to read,

And told me to lead.

He taught me to write,

And told me to fight.

Evening's he spent

Saying his prayer.

He hates to depend

Loves his arm chair.

Night's he spent

Telling us tales

About the places he went

With all the details.

A child's first teacher

Is it's mother

But my first teacher

Is my grandfather.

His hair is grey

And vision is blurred

His smile never fades

He's my world.

(04.12.20)

“a toxic label

broken chords

a gentle note

Silence roars

What I Am is

what I know

As above

so below...” - m.sonder

//transgressions//

t h o u g h t s

It's been a few minutes,

My head on your shoulder, your arm around me

Neither of us utters a word.

What are you thinking?

You ask, breaking the silence.

I'm thinking,

About the day we finally accepted how we felt,

And then the world tilted, the hourglass turned,

How every day we're slipping away, gradually

One sand grain at a time.

I'm thinking,

How unfortunate it is that our fate's already written

That we were to be like parallel lines

Destined to be together

But not with each other.

I'm thinking,

How long are we going to take it, one day at a time?

One call, one heart emoji, one I miss you at a time.

Like a recovering addict,

Each day takes us twelve steps away from each other.

I'm thinking,

How the time we are together is snowglobe moments.

How we are confined to only a moment in time.

While the world around us moves on and on.

And we relive one perfect yet fragile moment.

I'm thinking,

How we belong to each other today,

For now.

How wonderful it'll be if the world ends today.

While you are mine and I'm yours.

So I don't have to see tomorrow.

When the hourglass is finally empty

When either of the parallel lines ends.

When we are so apart that we stand out of sight

When the snow globe falls to the floor, waking us up.

Instead,

I try to come back to that second,

To your voice, eyes, and presence,

Instead, I say,

I'm thinking about getting ice cream.

FLOWERS AND SCARS

The flowers you once gave

Are now my bookmarks.

Dried and black,

Yet somehow artful.

Like the scars, you left behind

To bookmark

The person I was, and have become.

Dried and black,

Yet somehow hurtful.

(13.11.20)

Book Dinosaurs

Posting on Tumblr my art in the past few months.

I used to curl up close to my bedroom wall,

hide under my blanket and hug my knees to my chest

Hoping, if there was a demon under my bed

it couldn't reach me.

Now I sleep on the other end

And when the night is darkest

I reach out under my bed

Hoping the demon under my bed

would hold me.

Tell me tales until I fall asleep, I say.

When it responds

I notice our voice sounds similar.

Hoarse and scratchy from the lack of use.

Hands cold and rough like it's filled with papercuts.

There are other demons, you know? Inside my head, I say.

They're not as kind as you.

They keep me up at night and keep me spiraling in the morning.

How do I get rid of them?

It considers, and as my consciousness starts to slip, it answers

Be kind to yourself as you're to me.

Doesn't a word look weird when we stare at it long enough? Doesn't the alphabet look slightly meaningless when we write it over and over again? Here's one: CLING C-LING, C-L-ING, C-L-I-NG, C-L-I-N-G. Does this make sense? It doesn't sound like a word the more you say it. It doesn't look like a word the more you write it. The curves and strokes, dots and dash!

Isn't it how the name of the people you love changes? At some point, it stops being a name, a word that belongs to them. It becomes a feeling that belongs to you. It stops sounding like a word or a random string of letters. It becomes a string of feelings you cling to when life falls apart. Their name on your phone screen stops looking like a word. Every notification and phone call conjures an image of them looking at you and smiling before you can even look at it twice. That particular string of curves and strokes, dots and dash Once belonged to them and is now beloved by you Which you randomly write in the air because it gives you comfort.

Sometimes we take names for granted without realizing the power it holds. When all it takes is that one word to appear on your screen to get you through another tiring day.

#it feels like home

i broke into ur brain just to call u out in this quiz (but in a soft way). how does it feel to be loved by u?

if there's anything tumblr has taught me it's that this guy named franz kafka was in agony 365 days a year