@44hy - Tumblr Blog

thevaultoftheatomicspaceage

#moody #words

mournfulroses

Makenzie Campbell, from a poem featured in "2 a.m. Thoughts," originally published in 2017

#words

architectureofdoom

Unfinished cable car station from the 1980s, Ijevan, Vakhtang Lezhava. Picture by Stefano Perego, 2023.

#decrepit

vintagegermany

Dortmund 1920s

#decrepit

dropdome

Hauts-Forneaux B Blast Furnace built in 1962, Liege, Belgium

#decrepit

upstairsdownstairsandinbetween

Villa Nouvelle Vague, Oostduinkerke, Belgium,

Magalie Munters Architect

E Kline Avenue, Lansford, Pennsylvania.

#moody

how dare my child self view adulthood with any kind of optimism. we are cattle. we are cattle. we are cattle. we are cattle. we are cattle

listen to me, child. we are cattle. i grab you by the hair, wrenching you into my face. i take a long breath and watch my eyes squirm inside your sockets. i recount to you a shared memory, when you ran ahead of your mother in the parking lot and tripped and fell, and that minivan rolled over you out of its parking spot.

do you remember how it missed you, child? how close it was? how you shimmied against the pavement beneath it as it turned above you so you could keep in line with the rear axle?

you shouldve let it crush you, child.

you wouldve died as a human instead of living as cattle.

#44

they never should have met me. i was selfish. i took from them. i dug the holes deep inside me that they nest in now. i committed the unspeakable sin of letting someone find rapture within me.

he found rapture within someone who was never supposed it make it this far. rapture in a fluke. in a coward. their bodies weigh me down, anchors, a blessing and a curse in equal measure.

this was never supposed to happen. i am bound now. my death would kill them. either way i am going to drown.

#44

i turn to the Sun, and i smile, and the Sun is trusting. my grip shifts. sweat stinks against steel. i imagine building heat, a slight-of-hand trick that brings me to sudden climax.

for over a decade there has been a flowerbud itching at the inside of my skull. its wanted to see the light for so long, scratching at me incessantly, its need on some days stronger than others. it aches to bloom and flourish and today i finally let it. the rose unfurls from the side of my head, bold and dark - it shimmers as it catches light. i see it sparkle off the whites of their eyes. those that thrive in the vile light of the Sun have never seen such art. i hope it stains their radiance. i hope it teaches them.

in this fantasy i was always alone. its filthy and shameless and selfish of me. it fits me like a glove. in this fantasy i can paint without guilt over the mourning, i can show the Sun my masterpiece.

there is so, so, so much pain in beauty. theres trauma in it. thats what it takes.

i collapse.

#44

unteriors

Butler Street, Valencia, Pennsylvania.

#decrepit

the world is cruel and i must grovel. i must whine and beg and paw while demons given flesh press the boot harder on our collective trachea.

every passing day the resentment i hold for my birth grows. the sensation is in-and-of-itself a noose. its taut and it leaves my mouth gaping and my lips drooling. not a single day goes by lately that my throat doesnt burn.

all surveillance. all surveillance. all surveillance. theyll film my self destruction and theyll cum to it.

#44