Apr 29
02/12/26, anastasiasyah
seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from Brazil
seen from Yemen
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
02/12/26, anastasiasyah
ink and bone
Worlds upon worlds And I still look too human Still, still — Between the god of resolve and the sun A lingering echo A dream of ink, both dissolving in water
The little light fell to its death; A spark caught upon my lips, and I so Hoped for breath! I thought that was why I had kept the bone dagger, But all that came out was, still, just blood
The suave of feet.
The romance of addiction in the hands of his.
I am a writer of war.
Dance with me.
Love is a funky sight.
The saint of eloping madness.
Lure of may.
In the life of hedged sun.
Time is a cry of grace in the sun.
The erosion of sorts in love.
I.
Seek of war.
Tragic sight of seasonal man.
I.
Dense sway of green
Sunidhi
worn quite close like pollen and bees. rummage around through all those discarded barricades as though tickling fancy had gradually caught such gentle beasts in a fundamental world of mattress feathers.
let's make nectar, honey, news in a positive.
let's watch windows from streets below carnivores or wrap a quiet strong hand around oh, so be gentle again...
-
palm fortune and paper cards that don't tell you, not exactly, what will become.
suck it up, buttercup, problem child, brilliant mind in a dull scrotum of couragous what-have-you.
a galaxy-wide nap might work.
The sight of poetry.
In the cusp of sea.
In the tinge of summer.
The dance of poetic.
Heavens called us upon.
Crying of tenth lie.
Syrups of God's.
In the spinning season.
In the make of tragedy.
The heroic dance.
The seek of nuances.
The search of sight.
The seemingly sea.
The dense man.
I.
The ache of sea
Sunidhi
When I wake up after a dream I get upset because there, I am yours. There, you are mine.
I don't want that to end.
Excerpts from Bus Stops by Laura, Love is a Teacher
A lot of people don’t realize this…
Writing the book is just one part.
There’s also:
1. Editing
2. Proofreading
3. Formatting
4. Publishing
And each one matters if you want your book to actually look professional.
If you’re planning to publish and you’re unsure about these steps, feel free to ask me anything.
It’s Dark Inside My Body
It’s dark inside my body. Not glowing red like I sometimes think. My lungs pump in complete darkness. My cloaked heart beats in solitude
like so many blotted planets without nearby stars to talk them up, and shed light on their unique bodies, which have accomplished and endured so much.
Sometimes when I rant in a brightly lit place, I imagine the light finding my choppy mouth, and how it must appear like a twinkling star to my sunken organs, who toil my entire life until their wishes are granted.