#published 2008

[smilingoceanlover]

When anybody in Mansfield Park goes on about the merits of Fanny Price’s match with Henry Crawford its 100% about how great it is that she’d fix him and then his raising her consequence in society would be justified.

All the 🚩🚩🚩 flying and absolutely everyone gaslighting Fanny over the whole thing.

So timely of you, Jane Austen my queen.

[lunaticbookblog]

Mistborn: The Hero Of Ages by Brandon Sanderson

This is THE book of the series. Basically a lore drop from page one to the very end. A lot of information about shards. Ending was incredibly satisfying. One of THE Sanderson endings. An ending up there with Way of Kings. This book redeemed the series, honestly, and made suffering through book 2 worth it. A more balanced book in terms of which characters are getting point of view chapters. Kandras are one of the most fascinating concepts he’s come up with, and were given enough focus. Sazed ❤️ TenSoon ❤️ Spook ❤️

“The nature of the world is such that when we create something, we often destroy something else in the process.”

[adpoems]

They’re Not Asking for Radical Solutions

Breathless; shaken; craving the crown of torn clothing and scarcely blanketed In ethic - by the usual. And this is glory- this is breaking ground at sea-level.

opening caverns of rolling waves, grave cries - a crisis of confidence and broken, gleaming bone. Soft spoken lies and for a second I am in their grips until light warms cold skin and erases the memories of my arms The signs of morning break through a late-bloomed hour And fall like rain Into my eyes.

*Published in 2008

[adpoems]

This Is Never Going To End

Sideways veins, like wine bottle countries, bruise and face east - gurgling, drowned in Ophelia skin.

Tender white, I am unkissed and aligned to perfect - both arms overturned through the water. Warm and hidden away from the air that settled into the lines around my mouth.

Gone under, sunk like morals, I bend to the weight of wailing - a kind of godless relief.

Apples lower the branches overhead - full and closer to me, bending the grass on the banks neaby with sunny seeds that chip away my teeth.

I move like rotting glaciers around the curves of throats, sweet fingers travelling around the jaw - across a dry mouth that dies, grinning blindly up into some kind of sun.

*Published by Psychic Meatloaf Journal in April of 2011: https://www.psychicmeatloaf.com/