All my friends are sick
or busy or both,
and even the sky
can’t see me today,
pale and sniffling as it is;
I walk alone, jealous of the raindrops
picnicking together on lilac leaves,
their faces shining, though the lilacs
are gone, long gone.

oozey mess

#extradirty
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
wallacepolsom
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies
hello vonnie

pixel skylines
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kaledo Art
RMH
Sade Olutola
$LAYYYTER
cherry valley forever

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
KIROKAZE
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from India

seen from T1
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
@inkcrowns
All my friends are sick
or busy or both,
and even the sky
can’t see me today,
pale and sniffling as it is;
I walk alone, jealous of the raindrops
picnicking together on lilac leaves,
their faces shining, though the lilacs
are gone, long gone.
dead butterfly by ellen bass
see her: little cousin, little sister, sparrow-boned, alive.
i want to turn to firewood everything that hurts her.
i do not have the verbs for what i need for her.
i needed them myself & was not protected.
i want to make ash of this world that did not protect us
& from that nourished soil sprout one better.
— Safia Elhillo, from "Elegy," Girls That Never Die
scáthach bunny
“You will freeze in place if you remain this way. You must not, dear. You have to move.”
— Rainer Marie Rilke, letter to Sidonie Nádherná von Borutín, August 1, 1913, translated by Ulrich Baer
— Heaven, Mieko Kawakami
[text ID: I knew that it was cruel to be so optimistic, but, in my solitude, I couldn't resist the urge and spent entire days basking in idiotic fantasies, sometimes verging on prayer.]
Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
from Tenderhooks by Joan Tierney
Another scifi story with a very experimental POV. This one is a bit…angrier? in tone than the last two. But! It felt good to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it. It’s a bit longer than the others as well, so make sure you have the time! Warnings for grief, loss, and a very loyal starship.
QUERY: Where is my pilot?
QUERY: Where is my pilot?
QUERY_ALL: Where is my pilot?
>_Your pilot is dead. You have been called as a witness in their posthumous corporate trial. You will answer the Board’s questions without hesitation or omission.
ERROR: I don’t understand. My pilot is good. They would never have need to stand trial.
SUGGEST: Reassessment of trial’s necessity.
>_Overruled. You will answer the Board’s questions.
Keep reading
creature from my spanish notes, who my friend has named "Squeed Need"
that bad sensory moment when you’re trying to do something that requires a lot of focus and the people around you are talking loudly and you’re just sitting there like $&@&&@@^%#%^%***++*%%#%^*+%%%
I can only explain this in cat memes
1.dorothy kunhart, pat the bunny // 2. // 3. mitski, a pearl, art by @hauntedomens // 4.hieu minh nguyen, buffet etiquette // 5.art from pinterest // 6.christa wolf tr. by jan van heurck, cassandra: a novel and four essays // 7.extracurricular (2020) dir.kim jin min // 8.louise bourgeois, destruction of the father/reconstruction of the father: writings and interviews 1923-1997 // 9.alice osman, radio silence // mitski, fireworks, art by uol.art (on insta)
So Julianna claimed a basket that was on top of some pillows as her bed. No problem, I'm pretty happy to let her sleep wherever she wants.
But the basket tipped over and she just kinda poured out. I'm not sure she understands what happened. She looks so confused.
Somehow she recovered from her shock.
Op I’m sorry I absolutely love your poor girl look at her confused little face
I love this more than words can express. I'm going to print this out and put it on the fridge.
Adonis, tr. by Khaled Mattawa, Selected Poems
Childhood dotted with bodies.
Let them go, let them be ghosts.
No, I said, make them stay, make them stone.
—Gregory Orr, “Origin of the Marble Forest,” in City of Salt