#cupreous

[blobfishious]

spent my weekend painting this on my friend’s wall

forgot how fun painting was lmao

[creagach-regional-pokemon]

(Ask-the-vampeasle) The lycandoom follows behind Cupreous silently before creeping close. “BOO!!” The hybrid roars next to the strange mons head to try and spook them. “What’s got you so scared huh?!” She laughs at her own actions.

@ask-the-vampeasle

Cupreous: *isn’t amused* You’d be scared all the time if you’ve been suddenly killed before. And have the guilt knowing that the one who killed you got away and framed it on another but nobody will listen to you when you say the truth. I’m trying to relax here.

[electricarmchair]

The Freeze

The lithium land turns cupreous tones

King Copper's hands hold once golden leaves

Fallen from Argon's breaking branches

Crumbling too soon by winter thieves

Carbon copies from chromium clouds

Thread silver shivers through curling trees

King Copper clutches his roots and chokes

Winter leads sulfur into rusted appease

[jonaswpoetry]

Bitter truth

This city sits beneath the stare of an empire that’s

Now crumbled like marble monuments, yet

Still persisting in cupreous bodies placed upon

Pedestals to exceed the metaphor of superiority

Over both owned, and they who owe their lives

To a legacy gained by trading freedoms for luxury;

 -

It is in tragedy’s shadow that knees are crossed, with

Sun shining at the backs of better men looking down

Upon lessers who should not question or complain of

Bitter truths that lie behind what sweetens stolen tea –

 -

Just continue on a road paved

With the injustices

Of centuries

[leftiswhatgodmademe]

Cupreous by nature

My insides are liquefied. Internal organs failing. *cough cough My heart stopped for a moment My lungs are seizing while my brain is frying. I think I smell burnt toast. I think I taste copper pennies. My right arm went numb and my left arm feels like it’s in a pool of needles. My right foot feels like my left foot and I my foot feels like my right ass cheek. The fuck is going on with me?  Somebody, anybody, give me enough medicine to be healed or die.  I can’t take this in between survival shit anymore.

[safely-bitten]

Cupreous Waters

Tears dripped from the eyes of her lost love;

Red, his heart and soul spilling out with them,

Seeing her with him.

His tears fell into the water,

His heart tinting it red.

She slips her dress off her shoulders

And he waits.

Watching.

Watching her fall into the arms of her new lover

Into the cupreous waters

The waters his tears

The waters his heart

Tinted red.

[cruxymox]

a cupreous sea of visions

Madness isn’t so bad, down here.

I have goner hound defend. (A moor poet knows.)

There is the large growling dog at the gate, its noise is deeper than my heart. It watches the gate always, leaving us to vibrate in the blue sound without worry. Can’t get out, ever never getting back to the humdrum home of normalcy, but then again nothing can get in. It is a good dog.

There are tastes in my thoughts. Pastry-like, sticky licorice, salmon, coffee grounds in teeth, ice cold, mother’s shepherd’s pie. When I try to recall my childhood, one might think that it would be the bittersweet of a dark chocolate slice. One might think many things here, there’s all the time you could fit in your pockets. But no, there is no flavor to those memories at all. It is the feeling of sand rolling about the tongue, or a bland crumbling pill. And a pill for what?

I’ve consulted with the others, and they have decided that I do have a penchant for prophecy. All those pills it turns out were worth something. My nightmares are gif-memes of the future. Already seen in the viral over-clickbait of my crawling brain.

The few traits like opera. (Remember the moor poet.)

There isn’t really very much to us any more, we think. There is more to say than to be. Maybe this is why the dog pays us no heed. So what does it guard? The little of me that is left rebels, but only somewhat, it takes massive effort to scowl nevermind shaking fists. Letting go, I remember my last dream.

There is a packed auditorium, a grand stage. Somewhere above, the moon gives violent birth to three smaller moons. A hundred unseen dreadful creatures, ushers, shadow-gilded, glid-glide between well-dressed legs. There are no cell phones, just knives, playing with hushed light on blurred faces. The lit area of the stage is empty, the wood is old. An orchestra plays with chaos, passing it back and forth in the dark places. There is but one singer, singing deep in the language of masks and regret. It is beautiful, his voice cracks in a vibrato of tears.

I wake up drowning, the taste of blood in my mouth.

Madness is a good world.

[fakesurprise]

Crouched, the trembled heat of you cupreous Under my fingers. “Hey,” I whisper, your smile cupreous Pressed against the world, eyes gleam cupreous Reddish to blend soft as a spoken cupreous “Easy,” I say and you relax, electric and cupreous Oceans conduct in a smile thin and cupreous Until like a butterfly you sprout wings tinged cupreous Shyly holding out a wishing well coin coloured cupreous