◦°˚⋱.。◦°˚⋱.。◦°˚·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·◦°˚⋱.◦°˚⋱.。◦
ıllı claire જ⁀➴♡﹐she / her # ᶻz﹕
✦. ⊹ ˚ . occasional poet, musician : 🎱
⋆˚꩜。 M.LIST ⋆˚꩜。 TAGS
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──★ ˙ ̟ i post/interact from @whenthepawn27 !!
No title available

Jimmy Eat World
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

if i look back, i am lost
Game of Thrones Daily
noise dept.

oozey mess
No title available
Today's Document
Cosmic Funnies

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Noah Kahan

Discoholic 🪩
No title available
𓃗

gracie abrams
Claire Keane
almost home
YOU ARE THE REASON

seen from Singapore

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seen from Singapore

seen from United States
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seen from Italy
seen from Brazil
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seen from United States

seen from Australia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
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seen from France
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seen from Türkiye
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@walk-down-alameda
◦°˚⋱.。◦°˚⋱.。◦°˚·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·◦°˚⋱.◦°˚⋱.。◦
ıllı claire જ⁀➴♡﹐she / her # ᶻz﹕
✦. ⊹ ˚ . occasional poet, musician : 🎱
⋆˚꩜。 M.LIST ⋆˚꩜。 TAGS
══════════════════════════════
──★ ˙ ̟ i post/interact from @whenthepawn27 !!
zoloft
angled perfectly
to not move
in the corner of my room beneath
fluorescent lighting that i despised
that felt like the hospital i was doomed to arrive at
if something moved
lined up
under the bed
incorrectly color coordinated by a self proclaimed clairvoyant
but don’t question my methods
because i’m the reason you’re still alive
June
and i’m saved
by capsuled powder that tastes like birthday cake
and gives me horse blinders
but at least i’m safe
from the truth that lurks within my blindspots
my goat
Girls are doing all the fellows' jobs now!
eurus
i once slept through a tornado—
in that moment, i experienced an inkling of peace; wrathful, exasperated breaths cut through the murmurs i tried so desperately to ignore.
and this time, i didn’t have to try,
i observed, quietly.
that night, i started to understand his irascible nature.
i owe eurus a favor.
threshold
ember veiled temple.
steady your aim as i reach for a lighter;
illuminate my silhouette.
disparity a threshold,
disparity your clothes.
i pray it’s cupid’s arrow,
though, you’re more like artemis.
stabbed by smoke stilettos,
i still crave that bite.
tender vessel—
an atlas stripped to nothing.
set your bow down before me.
threshold will be our despair.
whore
i met a whore today.
a whore who loved being a whore so much she proudly detested celibacy; she said it’s a social construct.
i felt a chaste nail was driven into my brain—rusted, bent, laden with blissful battle scars.
it sent a buzz of dopamine through my veins, down my spine, into a sacred garden; my self-reproach hindered anyone from entering.
if i am blessed with a body, why should i be cursed with the inability to flaunt it?
why must we patronize pleasure?
the whore is not to blame,
envy is the malefactor.
Dear friends,
Every day feels heavier than the one before. Displacement has left us without stability, and the weight of rent, university fees, and medical needs grows unbearable. I reach out to you not just for help, but for hope.
Your kindness has carried us this far ,please don’t stop now. Even the smallest gift brings light to my family in this darkness. Share our story, keep us in your prayers, and if you can, support us.
have a look at this account yall, and if you can donate, please do.
free🍉
god
god,
i’m not sure if i believe.
maybe it’s a comfort to the gullible; like the stars’ alignment in the sky,
like the phase of the moon when i entered this world in turmoil,
how it bears witness to my soul.
i think it’s pure coincidence.
why would i bow to the divinity of a deity unable to prove its existence?
i don’t want to worship an obstinate being.
if it loved me, it would show it, rather than sending me hurdles i choose to walk around.
it would tell me, “confront your adversities with bravery, not trepidation.”
i would hear it’s reportedly tranquil lullabies.
instead, it incites fear.
why does nobody else feel fear?
nothing on this earth is holy, so how can it be created by something who is?
why would i base my decisions off of an authorless book?
i think i’ll stay wondering until i take my last breath,
then i’ll know.
Communicating the language of Soul through embodiment.
She is the poem
by June Bates
Hanif Abdurraqib, from "The Music of The Misery", The Crown Ain't Worth Much
hippie
you’re just like your mother—the one you speak ill of every waking moment.
spitting image.
was she like this at your age?
she wasn’t; you misrepresent the pathological liar,
you revile the narcissist with your fingers crossed behind your back,
you despise the sociopath while silence vengefully grips you by your throat, your mind interpreting it as an inclination of pleasure—masochist.
what purpose does nicotine serve if her chokehold robs you of your ability to inhale.
you know who she is.
Hanif Abdurraqib, from "When I Say That Loving Me is Kind of Like Being a Bulls Fan", The Crown Ain't Worth Much
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જ⁀➴ #c.poetry - my writing જ⁀➴ #c.random - shitposting જ⁀➴ #c.answer - responding to asks જ⁀➴ #c.reblog - my reblogs જ⁀➴ #c.dir - directory
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smoking section
hypothetical you,
a gas station diner—smoking section.
i find kalon in the way you slowly kill yourself, like i can espy your lungs becoming a constrictive cage.
there’s a viable remedy, yet you flick the ashes to the ground like it’s nothing—
my nascent lungs sputter exasperated huffs with every inhale of the noxious plumes; maybe it’s fear, maybe i’m histrionic, maybe you’re truly sublime.
i’m not mature enough to tell the difference yet.
dark, coarse curls adorn your body in a way i was taught to resent; i was ten, with a men’s razor in my hand, and a female chauvinist for a mom.
i discern beauty in the taboo aspects of your existence.
you’re some sort of deity, i think.
untouchable.
you stand below my mind’s altar, your feet i would kneel to until the abrasive weaves of the rug become permanently engraved into my knees.
i’d trace the scars just to feel you again.
addiction—
tobacco, nicotine; i was taught to personally repudiate since elementary school assemblies.
it’s everything i feel i should detest.
i would be willing to shove the familial hatred to the back of my brain for you.
i’d sever my entire bloodline for you.
you’re disgusting—and you disgust me despite being a figment of my imagination.
it’s euphoric.
i’d let my health steadily unravel, cell by cell—transform into tumors.
all for you, to embody you.
hypothetical you
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⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨MASTERLIST୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ
✿ free verse
જ⁀➴ smoking section - about queer guilt/envy in childhood જ⁀➴ hippie - about a fake friend જ⁀➴ god - about my strained relationship to religion જ⁀➴ whore - about embracing sexuality
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