hrh-writes

[hrh-writes]

[will we grow old or grow weary]

you will be the death of me

either through pure ecstacy

or pure heartbreak

you will be my greatest

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[glass walls]

I am broken glass

useless amongst the rubble and diamonds

yet you pick up the pieces of me

and fit them together

gentle and with purpose

you look at my imperfect surface

see right through my cracks

and tell me how much I sparkle.

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

wait... so ur telling me I have to actually WRITE my book and not just daydream about it??????

[hrh-writes]

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

[hrh-writes]

[sometimes what you're afraid of is the only way to let go]

you knew I was scared

of flying

I hated the feeling

but one night

down an empty road

you stepped on the gas

I asked what the hell you were doing

and you said

“darling,

the Earth spins faster than this”

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[adventure log: the forever train]

               You may not see it

       from where you are sitting

  on your tiny little planet

 but there is a train

   time ignores

       its destination                                       nowhere,

      forever travelling through the

    v  a  s  t   e n d lessness   of    space.

   If you ever

      happen to catch it

          you’ll be enchanted

                     by its windows

            that glitter with stars

     as you  f l y  p a s t.

   You’ll meet

   strange        strangers

     who make                                          surprisingly

           nice company

              and if you listen

           they will share with you

     the wisdom of their hearts.

    The air will be cool

        a shivering touch to your spine

             and the smell of the train car’s

                      leather seats and squ e a k ing body

                         will become a comfort,

                          a friend to your senses.

                        The word surreal

              now makes sense

       it awakens you

    your eyes will sparkle

   like the stars outside

    and just before you leave

         the train will give you a  gift.

             It will leave you with the most

                 e l e c t r i fying question 

                 you will ever know          for all eternity

              and from there on out

        it will remain buzzing

     in your soul

 for e v e r 

                                            “where will I go next?"

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[cliffside]

well?

why don’t you do something?

                        don’t let the fear of falling

            keep you from reaching the ocean.

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[hate human]

I hate being human

The human pattern

reveals the same thing

time and time again

We are an unjust and cruel thing

we let the pure and good rot

we let them die

while the awful and petty

roam around romanticised; clueless

to how their toxic mindset, their

afflictions being nothing but trivial, affect

everyone around them

We are a dramatic and pretentious breed

we crave

appreciation

approval

attention

We crave

love, yet

we seek to obtain it in the most selfish ways

when love is nothing but

a selfless occupation

We hurt those who love us

we love those who hurt us

I wonder, how are we still alive?

when we are slowly killing ourselves

and every other kind off

When we do

because we can

cursing every higher power

with no fear of what we may have angered?

I hate being human

but

I love

you

I love

how the sun shines a little brighter

when it’s just above your head

How we rumba in our socks

and sit in the rain

How you give each breath meaning

when I lose faith in living

How you

despite your species

have learned to love, regardless

You remind me

there is good in this world

you give colour it’s wings back

and I hate being human

a little less.

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[hrh-writes]

reblog with the most left-of-field, strange way a book idea came to you.

i'll go first:

I had a dream that kendall from big time rush told me to write in my (now) WIPs genre 💀

[hrh-writes]

[lost in ellipses]

Where does a thought go

when it is forgotten?

It’s so empty here, and yet,

I am surrounded

Silence draped in nothing but stars

mimicking thousands

of unspoken answers and questions.

Lost in thought

my sighs are stolen by the galaxy

and my mind drifts off with the debris

into the endless void

Here on my little asteroid

I think I know the answer.

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[shooting stars]

What if shooting stars  were human?

Would you stop taking them for granted, then?

How valuable do you think

they would become?

Would you,  unnaturally

leave your house at night,  to look up

hoping to see one… maybe, catch one?

Or, would you be confronted by their differences?

Would they offend you? Would you try

to convince yourself that they are, in fact

not human, because

you had never known them as such before?

Despite their thoughts,

                             and feelings,

                                           and protests

would you not believe them?

Maybe you’d ask them why

hadn’t they said anything before?

Why hadn’t they

revealed themselves sooner?

I mean, why should you

alter your life for these

strangers… these creatures?

When they’re not like you

and that makes them so ugly

When they make you feel threatened

When they make you feel

fear.

And what if it turned out to be

your neighbour,

or that strange girl at church?

anyone at all

protruding out like an unsightly thorn

offending your comfortability

in this mundane, modern landscape

Perhaps, if

life had turned out differently…

But,   you’ll never know,

as you are not a shooting star. You needn’t care

about what does not affect you,  right?

                                       What if you woke up one day,

                            to find yourself falling from the sky?

                          Would you feel any differently,  then?

H.R.H.

[hrh-writes]

[hrh-writes]

My average writing experience:

"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"

*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*

[hrh-writes]

[hrh-writes]

Writers when they realize they really have to write