#a.h.

[chaosscales]

Can he hear us? We think so, yes.

ETHAN HAWKE as ARTHUR HARROW (MCU's Moon Knight, E03)

[amalights]

I went to the beach yesterday. While I only live a ten minute walk away from the coast, we don't have a beach, just a mudland with the occasional trolley half sunk and then lost to sea when the tide raises to the barrier. My city is already under sea level. So my brother and I went on a two hour bus journey. I ended up with sever sunburn on my nose and hands but least the views where nice.

[gravityfalls4life]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX!!!

we all say in unison

[hadalsali]

antiherosongic - a gender related to the song "anti-hero" by taylor swift; it may feel sad and angry, but doesn't have to

whosafraidsongic - a gender related to the song "who's afraid of little old me" by taylor swift; it may feel like a caged animal lashing out, but doesnt have to

tagging - @radiomogai

[sharry-arry-odd]

People see what they wish to see. And in most cases, what they are told that they see.

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern

[nutzlos-und-ueberfluessig]

Bitte antworte mir! Ich brauche dich so dringend gerade! Ich brauche jemanden der mich versteht!

[imaginemirage]

"Sing O Goddess, but not of the rage of Achilles. Nor of Alexander's fury. Do not sing, O Goddess, of the demise of Icarus. You have sang too often about the ire of men. Sing O Goddess, of how we toppled kingdoms with our lips. Sing of how we singlehandedly ended the world by whispering in a weak man's ear. Sing of how our power does not lie in cowardly murder but in the power of our heartsblood. O Goddess, sing of Medusa instead, of her cold, unforgiving eyes. Sing of Helen too, and her need to see the world burn. Sing for brave Psyche, who won immortality and also a man. Sing of all of us, and how in the end we didn't need to bloody our hands to rip the world to shreds."

a.h.

[astrophelian]

here is a dream

we are under the stars, lips swollen, voices echoing. we speculate everything. (how much of an asshole was aristotle. how bad does oscar wilde really seem. who the fuck is shakespeare.)

here is a dream

I meet the cold morning breeze, and your poetry is by my doorstep coupled with daisies like the ones you hold in your eyes. your words and soft metaphors and striking truths are the first things I witness in the morning.

here is a dream

I treasure the dried tears on paper, tracing your handwriting with my finger. I press the daisies between one of my tattered paperbacks. I smile at the fact that you've always preferred hardcovers over paperbacks. I chuckle at the irony of how you're the one who commutes more but opts for the heavier option.

here is a dream

there are painted flowers in a small sunlit corner. I see art in wafting steam of either coffee or tea. it doesn't matter but it does, we love both. I tape the napkin poetry and ballpoint drawings on the kitchen walls. I write poetry and love notes on post-its and slip it inside your current book for you to find. you gently pry off my glasses and bookmark my paperback and kiss my forehead after I've fallen asleep while reading.

here is a dream

we grow mint and basil and succulents. you name a flower after me, metaphorically. I sew your name in embroidery thread and put it in calligraphy. because after poetry and I love you, your name is the best word I know.

here is a dream

we riffle through pages of philosophical writings and memoirs and I ruffle your hair and kiss your sun-dappled skin. we listen to music. your presence is the peaceful sort of gloom I long for in a hot day. I am filled with love and tenderness for you.

here is a dream

we find the answer to love, we find the answer through each other.

-a.h.