Sunafterwinter - Sun.after.winter

As I grow older I feel my capacity to understand that Miss Piggy is not a real person reached a peak in my adolescence and is now on a steady decline. I watched a Wendy Williams interview and there's this part that's like "can we get a ring cam!" and Miss Piggy shows her bling and I'm just like fuck she's so iconic. Miss Piggy who are you wearing? Miss Piggy have you ever considered running for office??

love elizabeth s.

Bartender: thanks for stopping that bar fight, spiderman. Can I get you a drink? It’s on the house

Peter: thank you, but I can’t

Bartender: why not

Peter:

Bartender:

Peter, trying not to give his age away: I’m pregnant

You ask me why I like you, and the words feel too earthbound—like cupping water in your palms and calling it the sea.

I could tell you about the way your voice feels like a lighthouse calling me home, or how your laugh cracks open my ribs, letting the wildflowers inside me bloom.

But none of it would be enough, not for this, not for you.

I like you because the world tilts in your direction, because every word you speak feels like the first page of a story I’ve always wanted to read.

And if I had no words, only silence, I’d still find a way to show you: my gaze resting, my breath steady, my being leaning toward you, always.

Dreams to Unfold

hope, he wrote

not a whole poem

but a note in bold

daily diary reminder to his soul

just a simple idea

that words matter

when fighting fear

so he chose, hope

in this pivotal year

when what we hold

is dearer than dear

all we will ever know

that the seeds we sow

grow an intimate garden

flower petals painted gold

dreams waiting to unfold

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

©️ @followcb ☆ April 28, 2024

Sometimes I like to stare into the face of death.

It awakens a part of me I'd typically rather stay hidden.

A part of me that wishes I was in it's place,

Rotting away slowly,

Unaware of my body as it withers away,

Becoming one with the earth

as I'm somewhere on the other side.

Yippee another joint poem with Autumn :D WE KNOW ITS LIKE EDGELORD WORTHY AND NOT GREAT BUT LIKE SEE THE VISION 😭

Canvas

We are artists; we bleed our pain on paper

With our bones as tools, our sculptures we taper

Gouging at ourselves with each new gentle stroke we create, not resting until our darkest thoughts we’re able to articulate

We’re the vessel that brings to life our muse

That, we cannot choose

Art is as addicting as booze, disgusting, but a habit

And alike, our fate is definite

Forever doomed to be societies deficit

(Teehee felt silly)

I love this scene so much 🤣🥑

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled “do not stand at my grave and weep” after the poem by mary elizabeth frye. the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.