pawprint art @two-tired - Tumblr Blog

foxfootunderscore

le bnuy part 2

lonelyatdawn

3/18/26 8:06PM

two-tired

midnight sun

two-tired

my midnight sun sears soft, dull-burning bright star, moonbeam sunlight on asphalt, as bugs scurry across the sidewalk.

she watches as i walk alone, through endless road, lined in perfect rows, of identical standing homes,

she reaches for me, glinting off virgin blade, clutched in half hearted fear, tucked into gesturing hand.

#i wrote this like a seer writing down prophetic visions #because i got hit with the Poetry Beam while watching a youtube video #i only ever want to write poetry these days when i hear poetry #the yt video is i shall wear midnight by wizards keep #the way she spoke in that video and the visuals were beyond beautiful #this poem. is supposed to capture the feeling of standing in the middle of an empty road at night #which is why i used this photo specifically/ its from a night i was walking with my friend at night in the residential areas #doesnt quite nail it but whatever #poem #poetry #spilled ink #creative writing #photography #i /should/post my photos. some of them are nice and i want to look at them more often #i miss going outside so i have things to take photos of #i miss being outside in the evening #but its just too scary to do alone

flunkett

sometimes ill write poetry and think "wait this reference is so vague and only makes sense to me with my own lived experiences... i should change it so more people understand" and then i think What The Fuck Am I Talking About and i make it vaguer. what am i? a brand? am i trying to appeal to general audiences or write about autism through a furry lense?

flunkett

and sometimes ill use a word and think "is this word appropiate for the context or should i reel it back?" and then i know i shouldnt reel it back

flunkett

every word has thought put into it, as is the nature of poetry . lines like "scorn of groomed sensibilities", "reel it down the well when we both arent looking" and "roughly the size of [HORNED MAMMAL]" are all intentional choices that i revised over and over

flunkett

every poem i write i like more than the last one. the first one linked is my current favourite as it is my most recent. its technically titled Jim

midnight sun

strangledplanet

starrysurrealism

destroyed through my dreams the failures pile up higher I am not enough to overcome and yet I lie to myself as if I have the chance

The Boy

#the thing about mosaics #is that the bqckground color #or grout if its tile #matters a lot #it changed like 5 times #i liked a nice tan color for most of it but the grey browns of the box were getting muddled #so it was turned more red and it was kind of a dusty rose color #then it matched his orange oarts #so it was purple but i didnt like the purple. too bright #i turned off the background and it looked betrer but i didnt want such a clear pattern #i found a wolf fur pattern. enough variation to stand out not enough to rwally draw the eye

absence of The Boy

florad0ra

first project of 2026

petaltexturedskies

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless. Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia? Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.

Mary Oliver, “I worried”

girlnephew

great-gatsby

every reread kills me a little bit more

great-gatsby

reread and enjoy <3

8-8-8-16

makomoriz

i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem

eatsoylentgreen

phegos

squaresaw

So last month I got hit by a car and died right. Which I didn't initially realize until I watched some guy haul my body into his pickup and drive off. Which, being that it's deep in rural Michigan, I assume means my body will make some venison jerky and maybe some wall decoration, and I'll be resigned to being one of hundreds of deer ghosts floating around Saginaw, which is w/e. But then I find out the guy works at a taxidermy shop or something, and he's actually pretty good at stuffing and mounting deer carcasses, which I come to find out when I find myself face to face with my old body in the shop window. So naturally, I figure since ghosts need to possess something to interact with the living world and etc etc etc the most logical thing to do is to possess my own body, since it's basically a statue of myself. And a little surprisingly, it actually fits like a glove. Like, since it's my body, it feels like stepping right back into place. So I get out of town and back to my herd, eventually. And that's where the trouble starts coming into it, because after I get settled again, I don't know how to explain to everyone else what feels so weird. Like since I can move my body and do everything I used to do, it's functionally the same, like nothing happened. Or it SHOULD be, so I don't know how to explain how it's NOT. But it's just hard to explain it to someone who's never been hit by a truck I guess

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

pawprint art