Vintage Wlw Will Forever Own My Heart. We Have Been Here For Ages, And We Won’t Leave.

I used to dream of death

or blazing, blistering pain.

A mark of martyrdom above my

twisted, tortured brain.

But now I sigh and dream of life

and care for all my wounds

No need to be a martyr

I don't need no cocoon

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

the impossible return

the trees might be changing… but what about you?

There is no I.

am i the central nervous system? the brain, the skin, the eye? the microbiome in my gut, or stardust in the sky?

the soul (what soul?), the heart, the breath, the hormones in my blood? the shadows splashed on Plato's wall, the people that I love?

the clothes on my back, the name on ID, the carbon in my bones? the air i breathe unconsciously, the place that i call home?

or am i just the nowhere man, the woman so alone? i am the dreamer of the dream, the - I - in i don't know

alexander heir

To all my darlings, and the ones I'll never know.

By @themararosa on twitter

"One might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity."

- Stephen King, The Gunslinger

Alessandro Biffignandi

The world may be in crisis, but the mulberries are ripe, and they taste just as good as ever.

The world may be in crisis, but the fireflies came out at dusk yesterday. And they will come out again tonight, and tomorrow, too.

The world may be in crisis. But today a breeze stirred my hair and cooled my face, and it eased the heat of the summer sun and I took a deep breath and I breathed.

The world may be in crisis, but a stranger smiled at me, and a dog found a good home, and a toddler told his baby sister he loved her.

The world may be in crisis, but the world still holds people who are working to heal it.

The world may be in crisis, but there is still a world. And the world contains us, the world contains love, the world contains beauty. And the mulberries are ripe.

There is still a world.

nvmillustration

sonnet for the uncanonical, 2025

written for two-bees escapril; the prompts are 'sonnet' (week one) and 'apocrypha' (day three). i will admit that this is probably only partially a sonnet; i've never been great with meter, but the rhyme scheme and structure is mostly there! i think. either way, i had fun challenging myself.