Two paintings, one concept.
hello vonnie
Not today Justin
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON
tumblr dot com
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Stranger Things

PR's Tumblrdome
cherry valley forever

No title available
we're not kids anymore.
dirt enthusiast
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Product Placement

if i look back, i am lost
Cosimo Galluzzi

Kiana Khansmith
KIROKAZE

shark vs the universe
seen from United Kingdom
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@zeemelo
Two paintings, one concept.
He Would Scream If He Could
Over at my art blog :)
Ghost of You
Having a very poetic day at my office job.
Predator Eyes
Self-Portrait.
Summer
It's eight-thirty And it isn't night yet, The sunset not fully done, Getting prettier and more intense By the minute, Before the spectacle ends In a silent sigh of moonlight.
I take pictures And I laugh with my mouth open, Because I'm sad But it's that light sadness Of Summer, And you're here.
The Monkeys
We feed the monkeys At our house Because they're starving The monkeys are starving Because of our house Built over their homes
Some don't have tails, Just little nubs Or nothing at all And they don't seem to mind But my grandfather said they scream When the electric wires Cut them I said it was awful He said they don't even bleed, The wound cauterizes And they scream But they are not even allowed To bleed or mourn They survive And I thought that was awful too So I fed them A little bit more
Something Worse
Body made of sand,
My hands, a desperate hug.
I lose every grain.
Mourning the Living
We sit at the new coffee shop I said I've been meaning to try out (I lied) My drink is bitter (Nothing to do with the taste) And you give me an empty smile Saying nothing new, Laughing nervously, "Same old, same old" (You lied, kind of— Stings anyway) And we both look anywhere But each other's eyes, stumbling Because we forgot how to read us, Because if we look, truly, We might remember too much Too genuinely, When we existed without pretense, When we talked freely into the night— And so we stay as long as is polite to, I offer to pay and you thank me (I feel guilty, somewhat) We hug without really touching, I say to text me when you get home And you don't And I stare at last year's birthday message, So much easier than saying "I love you, I used to love you, I remember you fondly— I want to."
Flash Poetry Flash Cards
Lies in Threes
Lies sit silk-smooth on that otherwise Sharp tongue of yours, That's how I could tell them apart— That, and your unsmiling eyes That reminded me of a murky puddle But glinted with superiority When trickery was involved.
I remembered a lesson: You must let a liar believe He is a good liar, That you are easy to lie to. And I did.
You told me, scoffing, That my stuttering lies Were always utterly unconvincing, Saying I lied in threes: How are you? Good, good, good. Do you mind? No, no, no.
I learned a new lesson: You must let a liar believe That you are a bad liar, That you are good and simple. And I did.
Good Liar
You said he was a good liar And I stopped you And said, feeling strongly (The way children do about their morals) That no liar is good. You laughed at me, Saying that's not what it means; That he's good at lying; You laughed at my weak grasp Of your language And I stared, hard, but quiet (The way chastised children are) Wondering if only I see the dangers Left in ambiguity.
Lying
You lied, all the time, And I'm not sure if I knew. You told me you knew death, The way you said it, knew, Made it sound so intimate And so I asked you, Because I was always scared, If it hurt to die. And you shrugged, shrugged, And told me pain is a choice. "A choice?" Did I sound hopeful? But your wolf smile crept in (The one that prickled my skin, That made me think, somewhere, He lies he lies he lies Before I convinced myself otherwise) And you told me pain is a choice, Just not one I get to make. And didn't understand And you smiled And I didn't understand.
“Care to dance?”
“We already do.”
I am not normal about them