when you’re trying to write and your last two functioning brain cells start yelling at each other
styofa doing anything

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DEAR READER
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will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
AnasAbdin
Three Goblin Art

Janaina Medeiros
NASA

JVL
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oozey mess

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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
taylor price

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Peter Solarz
Jules of Nature

Kaledo Art

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@imperial-artisans
when you’re trying to write and your last two functioning brain cells start yelling at each other
If I could have just one wish
If I could have just one wish, I would wish to wake up everyday to the sound of your breath on my neck, the warmth of your lips on my cheek, the touch of your fingers on my skin, and the feel of your heart beating with mine… Knowing that I could never find that feeling with anyone other than you.
Artist Credit: Anna Macht
Autobiography In Five Short Chapters
Chapter I
I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost… I am hopeless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.
Chapter II
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in this same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter III
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I still fall in… it’s a habit… but, my eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.
Chapter IV
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.
Chapter V
I walk down another street.
Artist Credit: Aykut Aydoğdu
a poem
A poem begins in delight but ends in wisdom.
Artis Credit: Astri Lohne
Love me, Hate me
Love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, I'll always be in your heart... If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind.
Artist (s) Credit: unknown
Water Picture
In the pond in the park all things are doubled: Long buildings hang and wriggle gently. Chimneys are bent legs bouncing on clouds below. A flag wags like a fishhook down there in the sky. The arched stone bridge is an eye, with underlid in the water. In its lens dip crinkled heads with hats that don't fall off. Dogs go by, barking on their backs. A baby, taken to feed the ducks, dangles upside-down, a pink balloon for a buoy. Treetops deploy a haze of cherry bloom for roots, where birds coast belly-up in the glass bowl of a hill; from its bottom a bunch of peanut-munching children is suspended by their sneakers, waveringly. A swan, with twin necks forming the figure 3, steers between two dimpled towers doubled. Fondly hissing, she kisses herself, and all the scene is troubled: water-windows splinter, tree-limbs tangle, the bridge folds like a fan.
Artist(s) Credit: unknown
Dreams: by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow
Artist Credit: Aykut Aydoğdu
death
Death, which was settling in all around me, silently, gently. It would seize upon a sleeping person, steal into him and devour him bit by bit. - Elie Wiesel, Night 89
Artist Credit: Elena Masci
Mirage of the Mind
I thought love was just a mirage of the mind, it's an illusion, it's fake, impossible to find. But the day I met you, I began to see, that love is real, and exists in me.
Artist Credit: BEAU BERNIER FRANK