Livving

I write silly art

[livving54]

The Dirt

The dirt welcomes me. Me and my friends. It opens itself up. Allows us to enter its diverse ecosystem we soon will be a part of. It devours me, I’m losing feeling, disappearing from existence. I’m blooming, I’ve become something much greater than I could in my life, a part of our world. A place for trees to grow. Squirrels to bury. Birds to nest. And for flowers to sprout and take over land previously claimed by cluelessness. 

[livving54]

What do I do with the burrows in my mind? Do I hide within or fill them up with acceptance? What will I do with the floods of doubt in my mind? Do I built an ark, or do I drown within? What repels the darkness in my mind, a bright light or a mirror reflecting me?

What do I do with this horrid skin, do I cut it off or do I alter it? How will I cure this itch, this feeling of being fake, an actor in my own world? How do I prevent going mute when the sound coming out feels off?

How do I make them stop, this feeling, these voices? They’re not mine but I wish they were. How do I silence it. It is not me. It won’t be me.

I feel silenced by myself, pressured to perform. Out of protection, from who I could not say.

I have been absent for a while suffering from Writers block and these feelings

[livving54]

Do you feel like a god when you're in my arms?

A god, of divine nature, above all else? I do not believe I possess such powers. Even if I did, I would not exert these god-like abilities on you. In your arms, I'm merely a possession and I'm not to be granted permissions.

Your heartbeat would be the only noise I crave, not the sound despairing whispers of air leaving one's lungs make. No one could withhold me from coming home to you. My god, the one that stands above me.

Your hands would be the only human thing able to touch the child within. Which was scarred by the years of expectations, of prayers. Only in your human arms, I'd be able to feel more human

In your presence, I would only be a demigod. As powerful as an ant before a human. All I can do is bite that savory skin you bind me in in an attempt to show my appreciation. For your eyes bind my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Stealing my words and stealing my heart. It's all yours. And so am I.

[livving54]

I just saw an ad that proudly announced their product is microplastic-free.

What happened to our planet for us to see this as a good thing? What possible explanation could justify praising the absence of something that shouldn't even be there in the first place, making that praise seem fair?

Honestly, what cog has turned that we see this as a good thing? Microplastic-free. Stop to ask yourself why that now on your favorite product presents itself a sticker with "microplastic-free" on it.

In speculation. Is this just marketing? Seeing a global issue as an opportunity to make money on the people's concerns? My thoughts run around, filling every inch with questions, concerns, and, most notably, grief.

I could personally give these questions a voice but I believe I don't have to. I believe and hope I manifested them in your mind. I would beg if I dared to, but please, doubt is your most powerful ability in times like these. Question change like it's an undercovered species.

And remember, nothing is as it seems.

[livving54]

A nameless character in my mind is going on their insanity arc... Stay tuned I guess.

I feel a poisonous soup brew in my thoughts and every word that floats lingers with the aftertaste of madness.

[livving54]

This is my sacred space and only you may invade it.

TW: NSFW

You may bind me with rope. In an exhibition like no other. A piece that reflects on the desired vulnerability in love. With the use of knots that would impress a scout. An art that lays one at the mercy of another.

You may push me against the wall. Make your hands my necklace. Leaving my breath scarce. The sound would strike fear into the muggles. The shrieking of an unoiled door fills the room as you leave me breathless. For I am yours to play.

You may manipulate my eyes. Force them upon an object I've never read before. Feeling every strike of my actions. Only for it to stop after I've finished my assignment. A lesson learned and hard to forget. As the bruises stalk me for another fortnight.

You may break me. My ego. The delusion. The lies I once told myself are no longer relevant. I am not in control. I am below. Take me to an all-time high. Float me there with your tender words and their demanding demeanor.

You may lay me high but don't leave me there. Scale the mountain with me, though also descend it with me. This is our heaven, no one can cross this tensioned line between us. Drop me from high but catch me too.

After the drop, you may pamper me. Cradle me in the very arms that minutes ago bound me. Curl my hair with the fingers that just tilted my head to meet your demanding gaze, they're soft now. Your lips curl into a comforting smile. You now are my sacred space.

[livving54]

Greetings deserted one.

I have not come to you to bring your name in more vain. It has been used in an attempt to execute a religion. They fear you for they fear the unknown.

Your powers amaze me. The transformation from man to pig. It fears me too but I've come in good faith. I lay my weapons upon your mercy. For they're no longer mine to wield.

I have come to your land with words that in my hope spark inspiration. I hope they inspire you to feel welcome amongst us humans. To feel safe to visit my diverse land.

I have been elected major in the town south of the mountain. I've made it clear that I'll open the town for whoever desires to enter during the election. That Includes you. You may send one of your nymphs to check it out first. As I said, everyone is welcome.

Our market is diverse with products from across the globe. I'll leave you a sack of our currency. We left a spot open in the hope you'd bring your work to us.

Yes, we. The townsman agreed with me. Our polarization has lasted long enough. We also understand that though we are new to this world and have not experienced the betrayal, you did. You were the victim of our delusion. I would understand if you deny my invitation.

You may see the invite as a distraction so we can destroy your land. Claim it as ours. Or that we attempt to abuse your wisdom in our favor. Those are the thoughts that crossed my mind while I speak these words. But I assure you, that is not my conscious intention.

I will now leave you to your craft. I'll leave with hope. See you soon welcomed one.

[livving54]

Update on my exams:

I GRADUATED! Got a 9 for English which is somehow disappointing but fair considering I was in agony during my exam. The rest I got an 8 for so, eh. Good enough, to do what I want in life. YIPPIE!!!!!!

Finally summer vacation too!

[livving54]

As a self-proclaimed writer I still strongly believe words hold no meaning.

What are words without a tongue to form them? What are words without an emotion to manifest them? What are words without a body to give them meaning?

We can make a word, like love, a word we fear. Context. Often, a common dislike will bring people closer than a common like will. Why do we fear words if we were the ones to give them meaning? Why do we contain our minds?

Why do we bind ourselves to finite words? Why not scream and shout with such energy that even if you don't share a language? You will understand. Because pain is a universal language and we don't need words to express that.

Though we do. This device cannot translate my pain into words. For the shouts are incoherent to one without awareness of their life. I have to translate them. I have to translate from a language without words and without meaning to a language with finite meaning.

That's my art, and it appears that I'm not as good as I've been foretold.

[livving54]

Now just bored, figuring out what to do next. The thoughts dance in a repetitive choreography. Only each repetition gets worse. Scenario after scenario. There seems not to be a difference between them until you look back an hour. The words got sharper. The moves got more delicate.

Then finally, in the last dance. I've become a waterfall. Poisoned with despair and fear. Drifting away into a state of limbo. The people feast on my disappearance. As l' always be the annoyance in the town. They drink from my river, diluting their consciousness. Left to be no more than an cautionary tale that'll scare the children to never dream.

Yeah, that about describes how I feel.

[livving54]

I just had my English final exam. Years of preparation, passion, and certainty went into that 1 hour of my life. Doubting my abilities. Doubting if what I'm doing now is what I truly want to be doing till I permanently lay down.

While presenting I was interrupted by the examiner and was told to speak slower, my response was fueled with desperation. "I cant, my heart won't allow me" I knew everything was residing on these 25 minutes in that room.

It felt like a metaphysical force was rearranging my organs to make way for self-doubt and despair.

Anyways, I am tired. I'll get my grade tomorrow. I'll keep y'all updated. To whomever cares.

[livving54]

I'm tired of repeating to a mind that never listened.

[livving54]

Nature will not grieve us. Grief nature before there's nothing left to grieve.

When the sky has manifested blemishes of black. I'll watch the blanket be sewn into existence. I'll see it as the arrival of a god we've long forgotten. He went by many names. But none would strike fear like they used to. The man was a psychopomp. In charge of bringing the deceased to a place of peace. Which our earth could no longer be called.

Souls used to wander the world for it was a safe haven. It no longer holds that title. We've destroyed it. We've destroyed the trees and the rituals. And far more importantly, we destroyed our humanity.

The few that fought to keep it breathing will now collapse to end their suffering, painlessly. As for the rest. It won't be so peaceful. Metaphysical limbs bind themselves to yours. Stretching, pushing, ironing the little humanity left. Claiming the life for itself. Life which you were granted and used to kill your creator.

When the air becomes bitter and the birds seem to be fine. I'll see it as a sign that nature is finally striking back. It has given us chance after chance but we extinguished the flame to then let it burn a minute later. 1 picture then you walk away again.

Your chemistry has changed for the oxygen you so eagerly desired to now be the end of your species. It burns and weakens your bones and muscles. From your legs up. Lungs and heart left for last. Iron within your blood forms little spikes as the dark limbs change their structure. Poking millions of tiny holes. Slowly but painfully sinking into predetermined faith.

When the blood has turned brown. The sky will blemish blue again. Leaving feasts for the creatures left. Setting ground for new trees and nesting places. When night falls it'll truly be dark again and when the morning rises the traffic will no longer disturb the songs.

[livving54]

I don't know why I write about love. Out of desperation, I suppose. I rather speak words of blood and pain. They cut deeper than things people do daily. Fantasize about the thing we don't have or we once had. Words of suffering connect to the inner human. Something we've all experienced, one way or another. There's a rare chance you've never seen the color of your blood. Unless you lack all visible comprehension. But ya get me.

Allow me to end this with a question. After all, a little interactivity never hurt anybody. What's something you've been yearning to read? Maybe a knife that needs ripping out.

[livving54]

Calm waves—The other side from Lavender and scars

There we sat in silence, a silence made by the locking of our eyes. I said across from him on the red velvet couch. An equally red blanket thrown over the cushions. My ex broke me, the memory of his abuse still floods my eyes.

I find myself back in the moment, on the couch, with him. His ocean-blue eyes feel safe, like home. It felt fragile. Though they burn. I feel a tear crawl up and lie down in my eyes. I try and keep it, hold it as mine. His eyes sparkled with love and hope. I wished not to ruin the moment but the tear escaped, stolen by gravity. Many followed the first.

Our eyes departed his drifted to my even lavender shirt. My tears created a chaotic pattern. Our eyes collided again. Panic struck his eyes. I got annoyed with myself for destroying the little passion between us. Which I realized was stupid. He loved me. Not for my skin but for me. The true me. His eyes sparked with passion but the panic overtook it. Though he was able to keep his tears to himself. As I laid an apology on my tongue he opened his arms implying closure.

Closure was all I desired so I accepted his invitation and crawled upon his skin. It was soft and well cared for. My worries flowed into his ocean and I felt free. He must have noticed I was cold because he folded the blanket off the cushion around me, around us. It was  I drifted deeper into him to a point I was convinced I was floating in water. Tomorrow would bring uncertainty but before I was able to finish the thought, I drifted away into a slumber.

[livving54]

Can we just admire this for a brief moment?

The beauty of laying down to never stand back up.

[livving54]

Lavender and scars

There we sat in silence. A silence that manifested when our eyes collided from opposite sides of the couch. I admired your hazy blue eyes. Like a storm I was trying to find refuge to. But it wasn’t love I saw in yours, like you would have seen in mine. They shook in a rhythm of fear and pain.

You attempted to withhold a tear. Though gravity still took it from you. More followed the first. Your expression had not changed, what did change was the pattern on your shirt. Two almost perfect dotted lines on the even lavender colored shirt.

I froze at the sight. Our eyes met again. My thoughts flooded with panic. My heart yearned to tender the pain, but my mind did not know how. All I knew to do was to open my arms. Cradle you so our shirts would match.

Your body shook and your skin was cold. I intended not to stay long, since I had work in the morning, but you fell asleep. I decided to message my boss saying I would not be able to make it tomorrow. I felt guilty until I looked back at you and closed my eyes. I soon followed your example and fell asleep.