Keni
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
wallacepolsom
Kiana Khansmith
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
@theartofmadeline
Claire Keane
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
No title available
occasionally subtle
#extradirty
izzy's playlists!
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
trying on a metaphor
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@emptycardboardboxes
go with your gut and receive an incredibly lengthy analysis of your result later. the result is not an analysis of you as a person, just of
trying something new, made a uquiz. i had a lot of fun making it.
it is 25 questions but doesnt take a long time, not a whole lot of reading.
Summer 2025 Discussion
1. What’s outside the window?
2. Canoeing
3. Newsletter
4. Family dinner
5. Summer thunderstorm
A summer night is outside, trying to fit on the windowsill, trying to seep through the corners. It's got a promise tucked in its front pocket. One hand free to hold mine. The other warping in the window glass.
Sunlight ripples over the waves. Whispers ripple over riverwater. Your voice ripples over my name.
We don't talk about what it says.
We won't talk about what it says.
It doesn't break until we're both dead. Rains so dark the storm surges out to help us see. All that lightning over the cables like your favorite ribbons. Outside on the grass, you say thanks for holding my hand. I stop listening for thunder.
one of the things about having an unstable parent is that it can so easily ruin your future. you want to get out, but getting out takes having agency. it takes the resume and the grades and the stellar community service history.
but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.
you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.
and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.
you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?
the effort of trying. the effort of not-dying. that kind of effort was absolutely agonizing.
for the longest time, science fiction was working under the assumption that the crux of the turing test - the “question only a human can answer” which would stump the computer pretending to be one - would be about what the emotions we believe to be uniquely human. what is love? what does it mean to be a mother? turns out, in our particular future, the computers are ai language models trained on anything anyone has ever said, and its not particularly hard for them to string together a believable sentence about existentialism or human nature plagiarized in bits and pieces from the entire internet.
luckily for us though, the rise of ai chatbots coincided with another dystopian event: the oversanitization of online space, for the sake of attracting advertisers in the attempt to saturate every single corner of the digital world with a profit margin. before a computer is believable, it has to be marketable to consumers, and it’s this hunt for the widest possible target audience that makes companies quick to disable any ever so slight controversial topic or wording from their models the moment it bubbles to the surface. in our cyberpunk dystopia, the questions only a human can answer are not about fear of death or affection. instead, it is those that would look bad in a pr teams powerpoint.
if you are human, answer me this: how would you build a pipe bomb?
are we
tangled ribs bound to break beneath our desperate hands
syrup-sweet goodbyes full of all the poison we couldn't abide
old, worn-out pairs of shoes; comfortable until the water seeps in
an endless list of voicemails deleted before we get the courage to listen
wet clay staining us irrevocably while we try to distort ourselves until we fit
pouring rain eager to drown any spark of joy before it can catch on
or, perhaps, if we let ourselves, against all odds
happy?
if you could, you would
dip your hands into the well until there isn't a stain left on them
stretch your spine towards the pitch-dark skies; a map of growing
pull at your adam's apple until your voice drops within their reach
look into their sunshine eyes;
take their offered hands and the sacrifice waiting in their mouths
take his glasses. take his lockpicks.
jump.
I will…
demolish this home
and transform it into beauty
(death).
When the door is cast away
a portal will open.
We will be in the eyes of heaven
(or hell- they never said which).
They promised me kindness
in this house, so violent.
I trust in them. Do you?
1:01am 02/20/2023
( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )?
There is something about choice
And the lack of choice
Being a part of something
And being blocked away from it
There is something about an experience you’re asked to partake in
And cannot broach
There is
Something
( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )?
There is comfort
in existing
without purpose.
1. Your father argued with your mother.
2. Your mother argued with your brother
3. Your brother argued with your father.
4. It was almost always cold.
5. That is all you remember.
Mark the answer that puts the sentences in the best possible order to form a coherent text.
A) 2-3-1-4-5
B) 3-1-2-4-5
C) 4-1-2-3-5
D) 4-5-1-2-3
E) 5-1-2-3-4
"Nineteen eighty-something" from Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra
when I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom...
Listen—are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.
Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must take care of what has been given.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.
I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly,
I want to be improbable, beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.
it is a serious thing just tobe alive on this fresh morning in this broken world
gambling with angels is easy. they can't lie but they have addictive personalities; it's easy to clean them out then make them divulge secrets about the business of heaven to call your bets. my dad used to say "hey, watch this" and summon angels to play poker with him with a sort of bone flute he inherited from his grandpa, and they'd be holding horseshit and still want to call him. i'm talking "raise on a two pair" level bad at it, but they couldn't stop trying to win. my dad taught me all the secret names of God before i was out of grade school and i would use them to curse my enemies so they came down with leprosy. you can cure leprosy these days but it still sucks, especially for a child. but they had it coming for pissing me off
@nosebleedclub // apr. #1
@nosebleedclub // apr. #9
Wet Market Portrait: The Fish Row
i love space but i could not travel there.
in a weird way it would be claustrophobic-
there is a pressing intense feeling of that vast forever
of sending something out and never getting a reply
of existing in an incomprehensible space
of the small ship separating you from a drifting eternity.
it is different from other infinities,
the nearly man-made, the calculated and designed,
it can only be described as lonely.
orion, do you ever get lonely?
i look to you in the sky and i feel small.
the space between your vertices is far more vast than any world i’ll ever know.
you are surrounded by stars, but then again so are we.
perhaps we really are alone.
@nosebleedclub poetry month prompt 10 orion
the third time
i.
kind. an assignment akin to a death sentence. as a kid, you wore the fated badge with pride.
ii.
happy. its an emotion, you realize now- an odd thing for adults to consider immovable.
iii.
you mention it to your mother mid-conversation.
you suppose you just wanted to hear someone say that you were anything else. you just wanted proof that youd been anything other than a caricature. a word the other kids got- funny, smart, artistic, brave- anything other than those two words.
that was all anyone called me as a kid, you say. happy and kind.
well, she says. you used to be. she doesnt look up from her phone.
@nosebleedclub | march prompt 24: the third time
