bunnomancer

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JBB: An Artblog!
RMH

@theartofmadeline
Misplaced Lens Cap
DEAR READER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Love Begins
styofa doing anything

#extradirty
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
cherry valley forever
art blog(derogatory)
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
i don't do bad sauce passes

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

if i look back, i am lost
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@halfmagic
bunnomancer
goat fanart
D&Ddoodles (map is by me, sketchpage is by @thisisbigaudiodynamite)
im gonna burn the house down, sister. im gonna pour soap water all over the floors to clean the places we never look and then im gonna scribble on the walls with the oil paints i didnt have time to use when i was young. im gonna smash a lamp into a curtain until the whole place is up in flames and i will leave my words and my money inside. im gonna pack three outfits into my car and drive it to the dump and forget them in there as i get out. im gonna leave the keys in the ignition and walk north, sister, through the garbage and reeds
Western Washington Gothic
You exit your house every day to gray skies and the sound of seagulls. You never see the seagulls. Their calls are so shrill, so loud, yet they never fly overhead. But you can rest assured they see you.
The farmer’s market is closed right now. You distinctly remember visiting it at one point, but you never see anyone there anymore. Where is it, anyway?
The puddles on the sidewalks never dry up. They seem far deeper and darker than anyone you could ever meet.
The trees are always green. You always see green. Everything is green. It is never sunny, but the trees don’t seem to mind.
You walk by at least 20 pale, brown-haired people a day wearing jeans, sneakers, and a North Face polar-fleece. They never greet you, and you can never remember their faces once they pass by.
“Float On” is playing on the radio. It is always playing on the radio. It is always too quiet and imbued with static for you to remember the lyrics. You hum along.
There are so many boats in the harbor and none of them ever have anyone in them.
At the corner of every urban block there is a Starbucks. You enter them when passing, like everyone else. You order something small, just to tide you over, you say. Two minutes later, you’re in the one down the street, ordering something similar. You can always smell coffee. And fish. Your head hurts.
You are stuck in traffic. I-5 is packed with cars similar in color to your own. You inch forward and ponder the intricacies of the building to your right, with the words “ONE DOLLAR CHINESE FOOD” written in large, red print along one wall. No one has ever eaten there. You have no desire to either. The car in front of you inches forward. Where is everyone driving to?
WE LEFT THE SUN ON TOO LONG AND NOW IT'S BURNT OUT AND THE MESH LINES ON OUR KNEES & FACES FROM SITTING DOWN PRESSED UP AGAINST THE SCREEN DOOR DON'T GET US ANYWHERE ANYMORE THEY DON'T CURE THE HEATWAVE OR FIX THE OLD GENERATOR OR GET THE FAUCET RUNNING AGAIN WHAT CAN WE DO BUT LET THEM FADE IT'S LIKE WE LEFT THE SUMMER ON TOO LONG AND NOW WE'RE BURNT OUT
we will get through this. we dont have to lie or avoid the truth. we can lay out our wares and our worries and know that at the end of the day, as the sun sets we will have made it through. we can count our coins or pity our lack but still, we are looking down at our hands. our hands, which count down time too. and as the sun sets we will have made it through. as my hands find nothing but time, i am weary. and bleary too my eyes from falling asleep on the phone again. it never slipped out of my hands. no time nor entropy fell it. i did not set it down. i have not. and as the sun sets, we will have made it through. with or without, we'll get through.
YOU ARE ALWAYS PASSING THROUGH AND EVERY BRIDGE HAS A TOLL YOU MIGHT PAY WITH A HOLE IN A POCKET OR A SCRAPE ON A KNEE OR A TUNE THAT YOU HUM AND THEN FORGET BUT YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER ITS SWEETNESS AND I BEG YOU TO REMEMBER: YOU ARE ALWAYS ASKING HOSTEL AND EVERY GATE HAS A KEEP DO NOT FORGET TO SHOW THANKS YOUR FARE MUST SPEAK IN TONGUES
EVERY BOX IS A PUZZLE BOX THERE’S ALWAYS SOMETHING HIDDEN IN THAT TWISTED WOOD EVEN IF IT HIDES WHERE YOU WOULDN’T THINK TO LOOK AND MAKE SURE WHEN YOU FIND IT (IF YOU FIND IT) THAT IT’S NOT SOMETHING LOOKING RIGHT BACK OUT AT YOU BECAUSE IF SO IT MIGHT NOT HAVE WANTED TO BE FOUND
kid, if dappled sun and hazy warmth and the light buzz of bees and dragonflies fail to engulf you in a wave of humming memory, then how can you be sure of where you came from? were you really pressed into form by the seagulls and the paint-peeling radiator and the radio static? if you can’t feel them now then i’m not sure what we can do for you… head down the hall and to the right. tell the woman at the desk you need a forsaken nostalgia form. fill it out, yeah? give her everything you can remember… hey, good luck okay?
playing around with harsher sounds