ars longa, vita brevis

we have art in order not to die of the truth. esther huang| xvii | poetry

[jupiterean]

ensemble.

it does not interest me whether

you choose to kill the

sap-laden butterfly or

funnel your overblown head into the

purple orchid’s eye—

rather, speak the language of your

gaze as we peer over

meadow-canyons and times crevasses,

forget the future, jilt the sky, spin on

your scruples, teach me the best way to

live with an eye closed and the other

spread open like a horizon, submerge me

in your soul with a weight chained to my

right ankle; let me breathe and let me

breathe and let me

breathe

— jupiterean

[jupiterean]

11:14 PM

a song rattling in my head as i shake

off the day’s pain. trace the darkness for

a hand to hold, find nothing in the

open maw of midnight. left and right

atrium scissoring in the anxiety i left

in the floating ballad of deadline this

morning; a year from now i won’t remember

tonight’s lonely tremble of dusk. if i fall

asleep, i will wake from a dream

dead with the wisps of mind

left scattered on the sheets.

—jupiterean

[jupiterean]

find unearthed a new home

oasis to grip and slingshot

around your fingers

kept sacred in shrine of

memory - i am decided

by everything around me

—jupiterean, back to nature

[jupiterean]

11:14 PM

a song rattling in my head as i shake

off the day’s pain. trace the darkness for

a hand to hold, find nothing in the

open maw of midnight. left and right

atrium scissoring in the anxiety i left

in the floating ballad of deadline this

morning; a year from now i won’t remember

tonight’s lonely tremble of dusk. if i fall

asleep, i will wake from a dream

dead with the wisps of mind

left scattered on the sheets.

[jupiterean]

the painter lies in the divots of rooftop alongside canvas of sky and exhibition of wildflowers. loneliness has a flavorless color when it sits between cheek and tongue in your mouth, though it is swallowed easily. quiet, there’s an architecture to this madness. spend an eternity finding someone to unsheath themselves and let you map their veins under a blueprint of pulse. medicate the fever that which has no cure. drain the sink—red, red, red.

focus on the color(from escapril 2019), jupiterean

(yes, it’s been a while since i’ve seen you—life happens, unfortunately—but i’m glad to be back!)

[jupiterean]

hi! i've noticed that you used to write on wattpad and was wondering if you would ever go back and add more on that account? i love your writing and would love to see more!

i can’t even express my surprise and pleasure at receiving this ask—it’s amazing to see people like you stick with me even through my Dark Wattpad Ages™️(i really appreciate it, by the way, so thank you!) as for returning to wattpad, im unsure as to whether that will be a possibility as of right now, but ever since i’ve been on hiatus i have always kept it in my mind. for now the answer is a bit uncertain, as i think i’ve moved on from that period in my life and my writing has developed considerably—and, with school and multiple extracurriculars i’m finding it unfortunately difficult to keep up with writing even on tumblr. however, i do plan on working on some bigger, long-term writing projects over the summer and in the future while continuing to write here, so that might be something to look forward to(hopefully)!

[jupiterean]

it has occured to me how our trip-wired nerves can wrap themselves around our lightninged wrists. occured that perhaps your foaming mouth spilling over with ensorcelled rhapsodies could clamp over my shattered teeth with such ease, with such ordained sublimity. occurred to me how the pretty phrases that unfurl out from my tongue would no longer be pretty in high volume, how humans become desensitized to things they are too often exposed to, how nothing is beautiful if everything is. take it all away then, the prettiness of it all—leave the red, leave the shambles, leave apocalypse. leave it all to shrivel and watch how they will all call it legend.

—ELEGY FOR POLITE POETRY, via jupiterean

[jupiterean]

you, creature of procreation and sloping limbs—you are an overeager mouth bent on the inclines, spilling reveries between your teeth. slingshot-and-metaphor through colliding dreamscape, and tell me there is more to the world than this anti-revolving catastrophe.

tell me a story, via jupiterean

[jupiterean]

Ever consider making a chapbook?

i have, yes!

it has been something that i have considered for a long time, but i have a couple issues that prevent me from actually doing it.

first of all, plagiarism. it is unfortunately and extremely easy to plagiarize something you find online, especially if it’s written by a small blog. if i make a chapbook, you can expect me to put my best, most polished work into it—but that also means if plagiarized, that’s some of my favorite poetry being stolen. this is also why i don’t put some of the work i’m most proud of online: i’m scared. my poetry is valuable to me(if you know a way to bypass this fear of plagiarism, dm me right now with your secrets).

second, audience. i’m a relatively small blog in the grand scheme of things, so i’ve been a)worrying that a chapbook wouldn’t perform well because perhaps no one has the patience to read such a high volume of bad poetry from me and b)trying to decide whether to put(a small amount of) money on the line(something that would be great, but probably unrealistic as of right now). which isn’t to say i’m not appreciative: you guys are great! i love you! i could never make you pay to read my mediocre writing because you’ve already done so much by supporting me! so i’ve considered doing a “pay what you want” thing/patreon/buy me a coffee, but at this stage i think waiting to grow my blog before doing that would be better—because although i would love to make my best writing available for everyone, it would also be amazing to eventually have my work and effort supported financially as well.

so, chapbook? maybe not now, but look for it in the future.

if you made it this far, THANK YOU!! i couldn’t have even made it here without my lovely readers. much love ❤️

as always, feel free to slide into those DMs so i can thank you personally :) also, send more asks! i love answering all of your questions!

[jupiterean]

whimsy-coated oblivion and the sickening smell of burning caramel sliding over effervescence and your technicolored fingers - a galvanic, diluted scripture of strange half-bent silhouettes hued pink in sunset and gore. i imagine you between the sugared chasms of pastel wonderland and crimson hellground, arms stretched toward the immeasurable heavens that could never save our cotton-candied iniquities, fingers twisted. you ask where we are. i could tell you a number of sweet nothings that could function as an answer: defrosted candyland. fantasia diseased by polarity. a coagulating gingerbread mansion. it all melts into nothing, and my final answer, echoing off vibrancy, is dreamscape. then i watch as we are both swallowed by saccharinity, our gasps painting the sky bubblegum-and-vanilla. 

—SUGARED DREAMS, jupiterean

[jupiterean]

who's ur tumblr crush

@markruffalo notice me

and you, anon ;)

[jupiterean]

unearth me by the dampness of my skin, epidermis hinging on the cusp of penumbras-and-faultlines. the striations of subterranean muscle leave aching venom under each tendon, ligaments refused, bone marrow gone dry. tell me, then, if the creature thudding miraculous in this ribcage prison is bridged by anything other than bloodshot steel, sin-encrusted madness—tell me if you would call it a malevolent beast. tell me martyrdom and the gallows. tell me if you’d care to throw it all away.

AN ODE TO TOXICITY, jupiterean

[jupiterean]

season of thanatos, of phanes;

summer of lost time and i/am lapping the dribbling yolk of sun off of/heated air and incandescent stars/red popsicle melting quicker than my fears. i drown/myself in the lucid depths of ionized water daily and emerge rapturously/find a new vice to regurgitate/my life into. when water is slick down my back and my thighs/trail chlorine, my german neighbor teaches me to say “guten abend” and/tells me i’ll make the olympics. front crawl, one arm after the/next. come/fall again and enter syzygy of death and life/i cannot trespass that one-hundred-meter border in enough time/it’s funny that i think about her sometimes/staring face-down at concrete and breathing only enough/(never enough), knowing that some people will see you/for all the things you most absolutely are not.

—jupiterean

[jupiterean]

the augur fell dead to the temple floor last night;

prophetic mouth unhinged and dressed bloody with crimson foam, collecting qualms whilst turning mahogany on marble. take it as an auspice of morrigan or coincidence, an omen of ruby-encrusted bones. say his skull breaks against our shattered conceptions of night, or say harbinger of embittered penumbra—how deftly his fingers oxidized in the moonlight, copper at the edges and fading into reddening transcendence. next week, if the shrine burns or the priest seizes into demonic possession, we will flood the steps of the temple with gasoline and watch it all go to ashes. for what religion gives birth to such grave portents that would render ourselves blind to such blatant apocalypse?

—AND THUS WE BURY HIM FEARFULLY, jupiterean

[jupiterean]

Hi i love your writing so so much and was wondering if you would ever consider releasing weekly writing prompts...??

thank you so much; you’re so sweet! and i’ve actually never really considered doing it before, but thanks to you it may be a possibility in the future(most probably on a separate blog or my side blog, @plutonean). as of now i don’t think i have the resources to do so, being such a small writeblr with a limited(but extremely cherished and appreciated!) active audience.

but if you’re looking for weekly prompts, @writerscreed and @savage-words hosts pretty good ones! and i do follow the tag #jupiterean if you want me to interact with your work.

by the way, feel free to dm me at anytime :) much love and good luck!❤️

[jupiterean]

say it goes like this: our quaking arctics shivering in the reflections of lustless frosted leaves, veins turned to glass too volatile for our bones to hold. say bloodbender, and i tell you to capture our frozen multitudes in the plethora of variances found in the chasms of your skin. say worldkiller, and thus dawns the unentangling apocalypse no one was there to see. say it never works. say we stay here, winterless, in divine entanglement with the arrow of time.

—jupiterean

[jupiterean]

I. imagine me as vulnerability and the fear of being such—as if, for one fleeting moment, we were drowning in ancient anthropomorphic seas, transmuted into half-bent multitudes of salt and liquor. i am waves tossed in ocean vapor and submarine wilderness—now tell me to breathe, or—remind me how to drown; i have forgotten what it is like to return to sirenhood.

II. imagine me as hestia, down to skin and bones ridding history from my marbled flesh. explain to me the way things rot and i will show you how they burn: swallowed in cataclysmic flame and glinting with railed transcedence. the contrasts of your veined words distilled in my mouth flicker until they are swallowed—now, imagine me as dead.