Hello, your writings are breathtaking! Truly breathtaking ❤
this is probably so old, I’m sorry, but thank you so so much. It means so much to me <3
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
noise dept.

JBB: An Artblog!

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trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art

blake kathryn
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Three Goblin Art
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Andulka
seen from Portugal

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@stardustminds
Hello, your writings are breathtaking! Truly breathtaking ❤
this is probably so old, I’m sorry, but thank you so so much. It means so much to me <3
do you see the ghosts, the empty husks of living things, searching like wolves for the ichor veins beneath the stone skin of our earth. they do not see you, the ghosts. they see another girl. but they do not smell the immortality you carry in your step. they do not sense the thrum of eternity in place of your blood.
wolf ghosts. | a.v
People tell you to stop living in the world of dreams and ambitions. They tell you to start living in reality. But reality is a world hell bent on tearing itself apart. Reality is a boy waiting for a mother that isn’t coming back from the hospital. Reality is a father trying to explain to his kids why they might not have enough food for tomorrow. Reality is a human being living in fear that he may be killed for believing in his faith. Reality is a family who lost their home in a war torn country and now have to move to a place where they’re not welcome. Reality is the countless boys and girls that died in bombings over a worthless war of wealth and power. Now ask your self. Who would want to live in this reality?
Sef-12:35
(Submitted by @itssafi )
if the stars can survive burning so can i
supernova: we’ll fuse when we collide (via mymouthisfullofstars)
aikelos → stardustminds
sorry for any inconvenience.
I am learning to hate. not with childish rage and silly despise. I am learning to hate, and act accordingly. I am a river red with blood, vengeance absolute. I am learning to hate, with an impossible rage, burning from an eternal fire.
but slowly, surely, I am learning to hate. | a.v - styx
in another world, i do not wait for you & your hero heart, your restless fingers to unchain me. i etch my own name in the stars, and with every bloodied fingertip i leave the legacy of a girl who was not afraid.
excerpt from in another world, andromeda is a galaxy | published in UNMYTHOLOGIZE (via inkmagician)
prompt: write a poem inspired a song you were sung as a child
This is really interesting, wow. My culture has a myriad of lovely folk songs, actually! I remember one in particular about a riverbank and the sun, and another about a dove. I’ll have to ask my grandmother for some more details, but this is something I’ll definitley be doing, thank you!
To walk away is not always synonymous with giving up. A storm will cease it's torrents of rain before moving on to another city. Perhaps it will wreak more havoc there. What I wish to say, my dear, is that you may walk away from this town, and start anew elsewhere. You can simply leave, and leave a path of upturned stones and tear-stained ground in your wake.
to walk away is not to give up | a.v.
The fucked up truth is that not everything happens for a reason. We sometimes make the wrong decisions and we’re forced to live with them for the rest of our lives. And I know that I should live with mine. But still, on the loneliest nights, I look up at the stars and I stop and smile. Because although we now walk different paths, although I know that years will pass and we still won’t be together; I’ll always remember that for a brief, fraction of a moment, against all the odds, our stars crossed. And that will always, always be enough.
LA // excerpt from a book I’ll never write (via thoughtsofla)
the boy across the street has paint in his sun-gold hair. his eyes are brighter than the warm sunlight and his smile never falters the boy across the street hums bawdy tunes when he isn’t singing them, and his soft smile could light up the darkness. he is a soft creature trapped in this harsh realm his sister is everything he is not. she is dark where he is light and she has daggers where he has eyes the color of the cloudless sky. she is quiet and assessing where he is loud and trusting. she is the harsh in this realm, bred for survival
golden boy, deadly girl. | apollo & artemis | a.v.
two announcements!
Firstly, I have just reached 200 followers on this blog! Thank you lots to everyone who's supported me and my dream for writing thus far!
Second: To all the people who asked about the mythology short stories, they're here! I've just decided to format them differently than I'd planned, by instead of creating stories with direct prose, I've started drafting poems about the gods/mythological figures into a modern context.
I'll be tagging them with “Gods in ink” so if you're interested in these, please either track the tag or simply follow me. My current drafts of these are Styx, Asteria and Artemis + Apollo.
can i just say how much i LOVE the for what your twisted gods call love poem? its probably my absolute favorite thing i've read in my life, i love how raw and violent it is compared to the usual poetry and its just... i think about it so much
oh my god, this just completely made my day??? thank you lots, I’m glad my words have an impact on you xx
this is the poem they’re talking about
I. We were gods, you and I, moving mountains because they were in our way, tallying kills in blood on scarred earth. II. I called us a tragedy once. I said, ‘we’re a cacophony, us, a disaster and a tragedy’. you said, ‘we are burgundy dreams. we are the fragments of what would have been.’ I never forgot your words. III. You always said your soul was a glass coward, fragile and shy. I see why, now, the poets never agreed with you. IV. You were a poem made to life. Soft edges and kind words, a beautiful prose. But you were more than just words, I see now. You were an array of stars and daggers and freckles, each one marring your skin in different ways. V. We were a cacophony, us both. But I wouldn't give up our tragic recklessness for all the stars.
five things I should have told you | a.v
let him go, the boy you thought had eyes like the face of the moon, softer and kinder, perhaps. in the end, he did have eyes like the face of the moon, unforgiving and full of secrets.
and he never deserved your star-sung soul. | a.v.l
I have loved you, in every life, I think - Scatter my atoms across the universe, and still, they would know your name. Softly, I become endless, in you.
you were written on every molecule I ever became | p.d (via lostcap)
I. i’m not a witch, but i know tales of boys who got lost in the woods for they did not know how to control their fury. of boys who were sent to gather lumber for the winter & were found with their flesh skinned & their bones thrown to the dogs. . II. i’ve seen mothers weep for those lost boys as they buried nothing but their dirty skulls. . III. ( their childlike meat is slowly boiling somewhere / rotting & delicious, a warning raw and unforgiving - we will feast on their flesh & gift their blood to our gods as you sink their naked bones into the graves. / we promised we’ll hunt the ones who roughed their souls & made their hands monstrous & calloused, & reap them to smoke. ) . IV. THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS: to burn one WITCH is to slay a thousand HUMANS.
Demi Ev./ tales of lost boys (via nehmesis)