Shedding imposed feminity
60x30 mixed media
Jules of Nature
Keni
Misplaced Lens Cap

⁂
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Sade Olutola
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
RMH
Three Goblin Art
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Andulka
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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@lena-conh
Shedding imposed feminity
60x30 mixed media
Laudna.
Bells Hells 1/7 (oil on canvas).
The view #2.
I find myself climbing this tree
and I loathe the view from the top.
But like a cat, scared and confused,
I can't descend on my own.
-
The branches are poking my eyes
and the bark is too rough on my skin,
and the splinters that dig into my palms
feel like needles of hot iron guilt.
-
Cause you see, all these foliage is new.
It's the first time I've seen it around.
I'm not sure who has watered the seed,
but I hate that it grows in my grounds.
daily sketch 6/365
daily sketch 5/365
daily sketch 4/365
daily sketch 3/365
daily sketch 2/365
daily sketch 1/365
I break the dam when I'm overspilling, drown the fire right before it catches, loud and hot and so all consuming. I paint the walls when I see the scratches.
I build a dam when the snow starts melting, light a fire before darkness settles, still and cold and so all consuming. I raise the walls when I'm feeling restless.
I wish for snow when the heat's excessive, I wish for night when the sun is blinding, bright and sharp and so all consuming. I wish for storm and I wish for lightning.
I wonder if you ever dream about me or is that a curse that I put upon myself. When I said "Yeah, I'll be fine. Yeah, don't you worry," I was lying through my teeth and through my pain.
And my hand is firmly caught inside the bramble, if I pull or if I leave it it will hurt. The thorns that anchor, sharp and mighty, are drawing blood straight from my veins.
But the bramble is alive as much as I am, I refuse to go and rip in into bits. For I am the one at fault for reaching into, fully knowing that the berries where not there.
I’ve never known a truth so certain, etched into my bones by hand. Never walked a path so surely, like my feet already know the land.
I’ts a midnight sky. A clear map. A burning light upon your hand. A springing bud. A smudge of ink. The sting and fall of a honey bee.
The dreams that are bestowed upon me, I wish that you could see them too. Rejoice in all their vibrant colours and promise we would make them true.
Once volatile as the fleeting scent of a summer day ten years away. Once dynamic and unrestrained, tidal and free like migrating birds. What would it take to become immutable, a lighthouse beaming from the edge of a cliff. To become a star so bold and reliable that you’re given a name and a myth.
The sweetness of a sunset on your tongue, ears hot like with embers inside them. The night offers some peace of mind in exange for an honest answer.
It gets lonely when these hours come by, it gets cold and it gets terrifying. But you get used to the stars looking down. It’s less scary when you know they’re not judging.
With that cat on the roof you lock eyes and he asks for a small little wager: one confession for a hungry feline and he’ll keep you away from the danger.
But the sweetness remains on your tonge, a thick balm made of honey and fire. Your eyelids are heavy and tired but your soul is awake and inspired.