arthurebbers

[arthurebbers]

I love movies where the plot takes place in less than a day. It’s like. What if these people were experiencing the worst 8 hours of the entire lives and you got to see the highlight reel?

[arthurebbers]

[arthurebbers]

A Short Poem

ALL THE CHAOS SEEMS NORMAL NOW,

EITHER WAY I'LL BE IN MY ROOM.

NONE OF MY TEXT MESSAGES SEND

AND I'M TOO AFRAID TO CALL.

[arthurebbers]

Instructions for the Wake

There will be no funeral, only a wake.

My body should be nowhere to be found, there should be no photos nor videos of me. My name should only be spoken when absolutely necessary.

There are only a select few who may attend: wrestlers Swedish lesbians people with a very rational fear of telephones gays, bisexuals and transgendered persons manslaughterers manslaughterees

There will be a strict set of rules that must be obeyed*: no suits no handshakes no speeches nor toasts the drinking of alcohol is completely forbidden so is the smoking of cigarettes and the snorting of snuff crack and heroin are allowed all electronic devices must be left by the door everyone must leave and arrive in separate cars

There are to be three key events: 45 minutes of silent circle time 45 minutes of non-silent circle time lunch Apart from that you may do as you please.

If you are to attempt meaningful discussion, there are four things you may want to know: I looked to the universe and it watched me die I looked to the world and it watched me die I looked to my bedroom and it watched me die I looked to my mirror and it watched me die

*All rules may be broken for comedy purposes.

[arthurebbers]

A Strange Sort of Death

I feel like a detective brushing down a crime scene, or perhaps a runaway bride, hiding in plain sight. Lost but not gone, the fingerprints washed away, the murder weapon left behind.

There's no past like it, and no future to follow; a ghost that breathes, a newborn that doesn't. I feel I am the  final chapter,  and nothing more.

I haunt, I linger, I remain, though only in death and decay. Though only as a ghost.

My mother  taught me that. My mother taught me  how to haunt, how to be there but not really.

How to be a ghost that breathes, or, perhaps, a newborn that doesn't.

[arthurebbers]

I don't have many followers but I thought I'd help a mutual out anyways, I am from the UK but don't live anywhere near Oxford. Hopefully someone on here does though? If so please help this person out?

This is a long shot but I'm desperate:

Does anyone live the Oxfordshire in the UK and is willing to meet me (in a public space of course) to sign my deed poll? I need 2 signatures but they can't live at the same address as me and the only people I know live with me :/

Or, does anyone know a better site to advertise this on? Cuz tumblr's just full of Americans

[arthurebbers]

Self-Indulgent Poem

I worry that when my dog lets out a big, dramatic sigh, the way dogs often so, that he's sighing because of me. Because of something I've done, some mistake I've made, moving too much or too quickly, making too much noise. I worry that he finds me an inconvenience.

I worry that I'll love him like I love my books. His books will be well-loved and well-read but still well-cared for, not like my books. I read them too much, too violently, I bend the spines, I fold the corners, highlight my favourite passages, tear out my favourite pages. I love them too much, become too attachted, too enthralled, too reliant. I rely on them so much I wear them down, I rely on them to the point that I destroy them. I rely on them like I rely on him to have nice books, cared for books, looked after books. I worry that I will destroy him.

I worry that when I sigh my dog worries that it's because of him. Something he's done, moved too much ot too quickly, made too much noise. I want to telp him that it's not, but I know firsthand that that never helps.

I worry that I'll break him, wear him down, bend the spine, fold the corners, cover him in pen and highlighter, tear out my favourite pages. I worry that I will make him unintelligible, unusable, unreadable. I worry that's what love is, to bend and break something beyond repair, that to love and be loved is to break and be broken. He tells me my books aren't broken, aren't damaged, only changed. He says that's what love is, He says to love and be loved is to change and be changed. He tells me he'd give me anything I want. He tells me to tear out my favourite pages.

I worry that when my dog sighs he worries that I worry that it's because of me. I want to tell him that it's alright, that I don't mind, that I understand, that I know nobody can always be convenient. But I can't. It wouldn't be true. And even if it was, it wouldn't help. I know it wouldn't help.

I worry that I'll kill my dog in the night, that I'll roll over and crush him and kill him in the night. Logically I know that he would move, that he would wriggle and bark and wake me up or just break free on his own before I ever could, but still, I worry that I'll kill my dog in the night. I will never be able to sleep next to another person. Next to him. He could tell me anything, he could tell me to kill him in the night, he could tell me to roll over and crush him and kill him in the night, but he'd have to do it from across, he'd have to do it from a separate bed.

[arthurebbers]

Lewis

Bones asleep on ocean floors tell a story like no other, we are a natural machine, a creature cursed. To soil, earth, rock, it's been no time at all. To us it’s been an eternity.

I think humans each have a few fundamental flaws, and that each one is its own personal tragedy. I think one or two are someone else. A natural result of hearts incompatible, not everyone can love you back.

You are to devour me one day, or perhaps I, you. Currently we are blank slates, beings so young, beings so old. We knew each other back then, I can feel it. Quarks coming together, fossilised footprints whose paths intersect, fish in a fishbowl, rats in a cage. But one day you are to devour me, or perhaps I, you. And we will be joined as we once were, two people sharing a body,   hearts beating together, lungs expanding as one.

The word soulmate springs to mind, the idea of my heart beating anywhere but besides yours terrifies me. It unsettles me, makes me sick, absent.

And I’ve felt this absence for years, it's starting to get to me, weigh me down, a led balloon, a ship in the storm, pockets filled with rocks. A part of me wants you to feel it too. Another hopes you never know such a weight.

Sometimes I can’t stand it, alone in my chest, I lay it out on the table, watch it pulse and ooze, beat painfully, beat alone, and I dream of a time long ago, an eternity away, where you and I were there, combined, with no before and with no after, quarks coming together, rats in a cage, thoughts lying only with each other.

I dream of a future, much the same, our hearts beating, our lungs breathing, thoughts simultaneous, laying side by side, bones asleep on ocean floors.

I am not meant for casual love. I was born for soul consuming love and obsession.

[arthurebbers]

I am not meant for casual love. I was born for soul consuming love and obsession.

[arthurebbers]

— Daphne du Maurier

[arthurebbers]

[arthurebbers]

Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice

I have the same ability to love as Eurydice did, I can forgive the same way Eurydice did.

They give this power to Gods, they act like it's some great gift, reserved only for the divine. But she could damn me to hell and I would forgive her.

She could leave me there, She could want to leave me there and I would forgive her. She could try to save me and fail, and I would forgive her. She could fail at every turn, she could try but fail at every turn and I would forgive her.

But she's got to try. And she's got to turn around. I promise I'll forgive  you, but only if you try, and only if you turn around.

So please try. Please try and please turn around. Please turn around. Please, please, please, please, please, please just turn around. I will forgive you, just turn around.

[arthurebbers]

Tantalus

I have starved and thirsted

Watched other eat

Drink and be merry

Feet away

Just out of reach

This was my childhood

Dinner from trash cans

Water from rain

But here I sit

Having overcome that

And I am forced to watch

Everyone around

Bask in that which I crave

That which I need

The only comfort I know

Would help me

Not simply out of reach

But flaunted

Held above and in front of me

At all hours

But it’s not the lack of comfort

It’s the hope

The hope is what suffocates me

The idea that maybe

Maybe this time

I shall receive

When I know so thoroughly

I won’t

The hope is what steals my will

Tantalus has it easy.

[arthurebbers]

To the brightest sun I’ve ever known

I will transcend moonlight to view you under the stars

I will hold gravity in the palms of my hands if it means being just a bit closer to you

My blinding sunshine, star shine, super nova

I will gaze upon you even if I must not gaze upon anything again

Strike the sight from my eyes

The noise from my ears

The scents in my nose

If I may simply experience you

Just you

In all your disarray your self repair self intoxication internal explosion every personal implosion

I hope to experience you.

All of you.

With all my love.

[arthurebbers]

Untitled (1)

The years don't last long. The days are short but the weeks take forever, November feels like Thursday. Once I am dead all I want to do is rust, everything is changing in such a familiar way. My life was quiet and your hair is getting long again.

[arthurebbers]

It's sweet,

the way you drown

in my amber,

a less viscous

honey,

and darker

for the way

it loves you.

My tundra heart

almost blooms.

The wildfire

that might have

burned the sea

to salt.

[arthurebbers]

“The Weight of Unseen Things”

In the quiet hours, where shadows stretch long,

I carry the weight of what’s gone wrong.

Not a weight you can hold, nor a chain you can see,

But the echoes of choices that made me… me.

They whisper at dawn, they linger at night,

A chorus of “what-ifs” that dims every light.

The words I swallowed, the roads not taken,

The promises made, then cruelly forsaken.

Do you feel it too? That invisible strain,

The tug of regret, the ghost of pain?

A smile for the world, a mask so tight,

But inside, the storms wage endless fights.

And yet, within this chaos, a spark still glows,

A small, fragile ember that quietly knows:

We’re stitched by our scars, but not wholly defined,

There’s beauty in breaking and mending in kind.

For every tear shed, there’s a seed to be sown,

A garden of lessons where resilience is grown.

The weight may not vanish, but strength will appear,

In carrying what’s heavy, we conquer our fear.

So here’s to the burden, the ache, the climb,

The fight for meaning through space and time.

We are not alone in this labyrinth of feels,

For what we bury, someone else heals.

And maybe that’s life: a tangle, a dance,

Of holding the pain while giving hope a chance.

So, to you who feels heavy, I see you, I care—

Your heart’s not alone, we’re all anchored there.

- DK