Hush, My Brave Knight, And Go To Sleep. The Grief Is Real, The Sadness Is Real, And It's Alright To Feel

the botany students

dozens of houseplants growing in your room

a pocket guide to local flora tucked in your backpack

studying the complex anatomy of plants

performing experiments to see how plants grow under different conditions

long walks, identifying the species you see along the way

detailed botanical diagrams

the humid air of a greenhouse

practicing sketches, working to accurately capture each leaf and petal

pressing samples beneath heavy textbooks

understanding the complex nature of ecosystems

wildflowers tucked into your hair

a crumbling stone wall, overgrown with moss and ivy

learning to distinguish edible and poisonous plants

watching a graft take hold

fingertips stained with chlorophyll and dirt

a cup of herbal tea, slowly growing cold as you study for an exam

the smell of earth just after a rainstorm

wandering through a forest, counting the types of trees you pass

knowing what plants to use for home remedies

tending to your garden

cool, foggy mornings, walking through dew covered grass

collecting samples for further study, handling the delicate specimens with care

a sense of awe at the huge variety in plant species

the rare elegance of flowers that bloom only once a decade

TW!!!!!

OCD! AUTISM! DEPRESSION! ANXIETY! TRAUMA! SA!!!!! all in very specific feeling terms which are important to differentiate between triggers like numbers and calories this is a very specifically ocd rant poem!!!!!!!! morality ocd is big and scary!

today i drape over the school bathroom toilet

i am scared that my poetry no longer feels

like i am simply expelling the sickest

most

tangential /

still most poems

fear is in the way

i'll get there

literal /

(how to breathe| how to think |

happy code |code to feel better

||bad behavior|

| good behavior. |

how to be sick cat |..|

how to be | ... |

| healthy cat? |

how to speak in the tone

of someone who is fine |

|.... .... ..||||..|.|~|

how to become fine.

spiritual /

(why me why me why me)

what is real?

acidic ( self explanatory ) /

shame.

I am wrong

i am wrong i am broken

nothing nothing nothing at all

emptiness is better than death

i search for it .

in me.

i cannot find it anymore

in that porcelain

cup of shadows

i can only find

her

🥧. 🐈‍⬛🐛🪳🕷️🕷️🕷️🪲🕺🏻

not her, or her, or her or her

(though,

yes,

her

her

her

her

her

him.

him.

him. but not.)

...

its me .

i

am

finding

..

.... ..

!!

⭐️CAT!!!🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛✨✨🥧

WHY

am i

still

so fucking

wrong

my secretion isn't on the sides of the bowl because pieces are in her. she still keeps it.

i hope she does. i do.

and him. he will never rid himself of the guilt. i hope he learns to ..

to just ..

to .

..... ... ...........

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Fuck you for what you did to me.

fuck you for being fine.

fuck you for being proud

of a goddamn lesbian

sucking your cock and fuck you

for talking about it

fuck you for breaking me to the point where i had to become something else

fuck you for reminding me that what i feel is not normal

fuck you

...... ...

............ .. .... ....

for being the filthy hierophant

i see in every man

who has touched me

why is it you that stays? who gave you such a power?

but

isn't that the point? that i can be

broken?

from him?

i was her

until the day i wasn't —

when i was her

and then

her

and her.... ( there are no

colors in this time

except the ones that return

to me.

when i am..... )

🪄🪄🧠🤓🐈‍⬛🏛️🎨🎭🖼️🏴‍☠️👩🏻‍🎤🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️❤️✨⭐️🌠🌃🌌🔭🔭🔭🔭🔭

me !!!!!!!!!!!

💕💖💗💞💓💐🌸🌺💓💘💝💝💐💘🌸💐🎀🌷💝🎀🌷🌷🐷💝🧞‍♀️🎀🎀🦩🩰👚🎟️

from the deep pit

of my stomach

there is me.

why do the painful things make her louder?

why

the

fuck.

has it been nine goddamn years of this?

nine?

3 6 9 three six nine i know what the numbers are

i know why they are there

grandma

(mother of grandma) teaches me of

grandma

(mother of grandma)

i can hear you

i can

i am sorry for abandoning you

to live in a shell of

a soul

when i couldnt see it you

knight of wands told me how to

keep going

you tell me that it is okay to live for more than my body

even if the thoughts never leave?

even if the thoughts never leave.

even if i

stay the same? you will still be lovable

it hurts to turn back into

a newly traumatized

confused cat self

she is yellow she is happy go lucky

she has a light she yearns

will not go out

when she gets

"better"

my thoughts about her don't feel that way

you

learned to live in an angry mind

in the same spot theres something else

block has vanished

all too fast

is this what hope feels like?

i am wise )

i am learning learning learning

when the fog is there and when it isn't

because i want to

i will learn

how to love

how to feel

how to understand and listen and observe the way i always have

you are right

it is better to speak than it is to die

( you speak to me through wisdom of the greats

never will i let go of

my intellect!

TRUE

intellect)

it is better to exist than it is not to cry

( you shout this

from the kind of pedestal

i have grown so weary of in others /

in myself)

there is intelligence in creating

is the birth of passion from knowledge?

connection ?

am i doing this

that terribly wrong?

but isnt the love

something?

Où étais-je ?

When will sleep stop being deprived smh

Huge shoutout to those who have been diagnosed with the same (mental) illness as their abuser(s). Who fear they might turn out to be abusive themselves because of their diagnosis. Who get triggered by the name of their diagnosis and the symptoms it brings because it is so strongly associated to their abuse. Whose abuse has made them scared and prejudiced of people with the same diagnosis and are now unsure and conflicted on how to feel about themselves. Who have a hard time researching their illness and treatment options because the association to their abuse triggers them too badly to continue reading about it. Who may end up discovering articles and videos warning people about their diagnosis and falsely claiming that they are abusive because of their diagnosis, but feeling strongly that the articles are correct because of their own experience being abused.

I see you and you are strong. Your diagnosis does not make you inherently abusive. You are nothing like them. You are your own person making your own choices. Abusing people is a choice, so as long as you do not make that choice you have nothing to fear. I hope that with time and possible therapy you are able to accept your own diagnosis as a seperate thing from your abuse. They are not inherently connected, they only share an association. Don't lose hope, I believe in you.

The uh ,,

The wing ?tutorial? Featuring many examples and little to no explanation

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does anyone have a torrent link for the memories of all humans past present and future i can't seem to find it myself

Can you make a post romanticising biology, chemistry and physics please?

the biology, chemistry, and physics student ༉‧₊˚.

staying up late finishing all your assignments and deadlines

living on caffeine and never more than 6 hours of sleep

desk cluttered with mugs, once filled with coffee and tea

an accurate hand, drawing and calculating all your thoughts and theories onto paper

running into class barely on time, hair in a state, outfit just-about put together

bag overflowing with papers and calculations

textbooks scattered with tabs and annotations

mail box filled, every notification receives your signature eye roll

your work is too important

living for your achievements, trying to find a way to the undiscovered lands

bookshelves lined with books detailing all your interests

reading Frankenstein every year

listening to chaotic classical music while you work, finding comfort in the changing notes

constantly thinking things through

ranting to your walls about your discoveries or theories

finding art in the exact, and finding the exact in art

Thank you for the ask! <3

IT’S ME, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!

It’s too late to save the world

Ash trees sprout in cracks in the asphalt. The gutters collect leaves, which become soil, in which dandelions sprout.

There’s nothing you can do

A man plants an entire forest. A young girl teaches a drone to deliver saplings. The elderly volunteer to clean up radioactive waste.

You might as well give up

Wolves return to ancestral hunting grounds. Bison return to the prairie. Otters return to the kelp beds. Young oaks push roots deep into reclaimed farmland.

Who cares anyway?

Children draw pictures of flowers. Festivals are held for cherry blossoms and pecans and apples. A crowd cheers as the last line is cut away from the ensnared creature.

I have disobeyed worse than you

The world does not die on my watch