Mar 26, 2023
sneak in my most vulnerable state.
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Lithuania
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Canada
seen from Indonesia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
sneak in my most vulnerable state.
Long Grey Cloud
Disoriented
the long grey cloud
befuddles
we lose our path
🌑
Waiting
for the rays to break
to shine a light
For then
our journey can continue
A short poem about clouds...
A Metaphor
Wistfully I stare at the clouds
slowing drifting
with unperceivable change
A metaphor for life
Terminated clouds are for January. Before boarding, I touch the left side of Your neck for the last time before long. It's raining. Veiled clouds are for December. Slowly walking through security, My heart is a hammer, but then : you. I'm home. Scudding clouds are for November. I'm rarely sitting down and my body Is nothing but a closed envelop(p)e Ready to be sent aboard. Ragged clouds are for October. Heavy feet and shaking, I was golden, black and blue. Swollen throat, unable to form words. Thunder clouds are for September I've been offered a year, and I'm Floating between tears and glee, Finally grounded by a light necklace. Swept clouds are for August. The water is clear. The tiny fishes of my thoughts Scatter away to infest someone else. Linear clouds are for July. You left on a Monday and I travelled on National Day. I wish I could hold your hand. Clustered clouds are for June. I'm desperately in love with you and Your mouth tastes like Sun-loved fruits. Downy clouds are for May. My fingertips are tingling from Delight, as I neglect work. We are sitting side by side. Puffy clouds are for April. The weather is unstable and so am I. I don't want to let go of the scent of Your body and your hushed voice. Hazy clouds are for March. I still don't understand the meaning of independance. I am the broken legs of a goddess. Grouped clouds are for February. It's time for dry hands and red noses. Snowflakes melting in our whispers. Smoke curling and soft touches. Until we meet again. I will reveal in the feeling that We are living under the same sky, Changing and loving like clouds.
On Lovely Clouds and their Monthly Shapes, Tales of a Skeleton (2016)
"Tinychat time"
Love, Fuck, Joey
Reblog people fucking
follow little guys
hate Morgan Freeman moment nasa
actually
friends forever crying.