Something something magical strike transhumanism something something capitalism

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Syria
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from China
Something something magical strike transhumanism something something capitalism
Sometimes I forget I'm not some weird, (semi)immortal scientist conducting experiments on dead people and that I actually have school again and responsibilities.
like wdym I can't be an evil rat anymore????
wdym I 'have' school???????
drew isolde so ill have more chances of her coming home + bonus sonetto🤞
wip as they say i love this freak beast
best thing ive drawn all year
To Save as not to Deprave
Dear you,
do not assist in the search
for my state
of elation. Leave it up to the tea I brew,
the carved initials in birch.
Wording to destroy what I create,
under the umbrella under the snow.
Dear you,
do not give in
to this torture
bestowed by each list.
Will be ticketed to grin.
Whatever whoever has gone through,
If I had it my way through this,
it shall bounce off your pores.
I'm just a rant that tends to rhyme
The world is becoming a smoke-free establishment
and my breaths still don't know where they belong.
Pitching a picture perfect playlist for the main event,
replayed encores scored for a sing-along.
I make very little sense,
but surely you sensed I never get the rhythm wrong.
Let's waft above that unknown block,
you can tell them that we talked.
That I'm doing just fine pacing with the clock.
This season dilutes reality with 80 proof promises.
Yet, romance remains drained
for the sake of an overbearing heart's refrained wishes
and the pronunciation of self and sane.
I'm rarely aware of what this is,
but this isn't a question that can't be contained.
Let's spiral down to rock and roll bottom,
you can tell them I got you drunk.
That we did just fine as the sidewalk spun.
In the end: I'm just a rant that tends to rhyme,
founded by nothing at all.
But the taste of wasted time
is just enough collateral
to declare this novella mine.
Feel free to analyze an excerpt, but withhold the results until fall.