cascoril - Tumblr blog

[cascoril]

[cascoril]

The tyrant's greatest fear is the public growing a conscience

[cascoril]

Do you ever realise that, like, this is it?

Do you ever look around and feel incomplete?

Do you ever wish for adventure not coming?

Do you ever wonder what it could be like,

Another way?

[cascoril]

A Refutation, A Reading, A Child who did not know

was reading some of my old poetry, and wow i was not healthy huh. also the line about 'we share much' sticks out especially because well, we do not. 2019 me did not expect the transition lol

yrs ~Cassy Cascoril

[cascoril]

Well, I’ve seen too much

Been through too much

To have faith in you

 Complete trust?

I don’t think so 

You can call me jaded

And that’s probably correct

You can call me calloused

And I would not correct

So I hide in the mountains

And write my little poems

And do my little drawings

And pretend you don’t exist 

[cascoril]

Well, I’ve seen too much

Been through too much

To have faith in you

 Complete trust?

I don’t think so 

You can call me jaded

And that’s probably correct

You can call me calloused

And I would not correct

So I hide in the mountains

And write my little poems

And do my little drawings

And pretend you don’t exist 

[cascoril]

A small excerpt from my long term project, the one I'm named after! Figured I might as well - I hope yous like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The song of Cascoril

Under the wild winter wind,

And the sky paling blue,

Young cascoril is right there,

Picking lies from true,

For you see this child had been told,

A future less than bright

And whilst they stood there on the ground

Their mind was wrought with fright

For our poor hero had been curse'd

And did not know by what

For she had tangled with a witch

And left alone to rot

The village healer had guessed some,

And mystics had guessed more

And though there was much lie in this,

There was truth in it's core

You see this childs curse was that of

A life left to repeat

reset of both mind and heart,

Both punishment and treat.

For many years this person lived,

Growing as any would

Forgetting of the curse she held,

Living, best she could

~~~~~~~~

My plan is to try write a long sort of faux-epic, though I doubt I have that much poem in me lol

Still, it's going alright!

[cascoril]

Caitlin Colon, "The Surrender Theory"

[cascoril]

Last day to live

You've got one day

To live a life

To keep yourself sated

For the coming storm

Be it days or weeks or months

A time to live dead

Take one last time to be

Going out or staying in

Take that last chance to exist

Until your torch can be relit

[cascoril]

Vomit over lipstick

It's been a whole twenty-four hours

Since the last time you slept

And youre trying to deal with it

Through whatever ways you've kept

And it's not working yet,

Perhaps it won't at all,

When you dressed up to stand up high

It's just further to fall

You're hiding how shit you feel

Through pink-gold painted eyes

And though it makes you feel better

It still cannot disguise,

That unless you can get better,

Unless this nausea you can quell,

There'll be vomit over lipstick

With your good day shot to hell.

But hey maybe it was worth it

Maybe when to the mirror you do rise

You'll see a sight of her staring

Through those deep sleep-lacking eyes

[cascoril]

So a guy named Dan,

Wanted to record

A few videos with friends

So this happens

And it leads to

Lore that never ends

The board is here,

It's a person

And it kills people quite a bit

It also has

Far too much

Information on it

I'm not even sure if

Half the world's on it

Where made before

Or by it itself

Does this make the board god

I thinj the board might be god

Why is the board god

Why can god fit on a shelf

I think the board may also be responsible for milk theory

Don't ask what that is

You don't want to know

Wait is magical John

Even on the board

Why doesn't Tumblr have timestamps

I'm really tired and this has broken my mind

Also I'm not sure if this counts as a poem anymore

So

I may delete it

Or I may eat it

Praise the board

I feel like rtumblr has simultaneously murdered me and raised me from the dead as a zombie poet who's jaw fell off mid rhyme

This explains my absesnse right

[cascoril]

Another Last Week

And the week begins, as it tends to do, with a Monday

but this time these words felt different

This time they were to last

a collection, an end, the conclusion at 100

730 days, coming to a rest

a time spent happy, a time spent sad

a time spent simply being

a time not left to fade away

a time for him to be in

it wasn't always easy

but it wasn't always hard

two years full

of happiness

of anger

of sadness

of memes

and his story wasn't over

but this chapter at least

and he could go to bed

but first he said

Ill see you all last week

-- Cassy Cascoril

[cascoril]

Yeah I know this is out of the usual stuff I post BUT-

What the FUCK YouTube??? How dare they do all that stuff against him?? Or against any other content creators, for that matter??

Among the many, many issues RT explains in his video here - like retroactively enforcing bs policies without a second chance for appeal or reupload - I’m still stumped on the age restriction because of swear words… which happened AFTER he had explicitly listed each and every one of his videos as “not for kids” before uploading them. 

All content must be “pure” for children? Even when it’s explicitly stated that those videos are not for their viewing? What??

I’m simmering with rage. I’ve been watching RT for more than 2 years (according to Google I’ve subscribed to him in January 2020) and he’s been so hard at work, just amazing, so entertaining - and YouTube?? Is trying to drive him off the platform?? Apparently???

As much as I fervently hope it won’t happen, I just want him to be happy. 

[cascoril]

this is not a poem

if you've seen my other posts, you'll know I'm a poet. It's what I do here.

This isn't that

Becuase Im fucking pissed and don't have the words to make it sound nice.

I hate how they sexualised what I want to be. How can an asexual see how they treat girls like me and want to be there. Why isn't there anything I can find just to let me feel good

Obviously I'm exaggerating, and I'm sure i can find something it just... fucking hurts to be a subculture of a subculture of a marginalised group - and it wouldn't even be this bad if we just... let the girls be.

Why can't they just let us be.

Everyday I awaken, to the core shaken, of another day in this world.

how can I survive, how am I meant to thrive, in a body that does not fit.

I'm so tired. I'm so... wrong.

and I don't know how be right

Yours,

Cassy Cascoril

[cascoril]

I don't even know my own name

And that's fucking scary

To not know who you are,

or if anyone really knows you

I don't know my name

or even if it's broken

if a part of me is different

Or if I'm just confusing

I don't know who I am

Or how to find out

Or who I even want to be

At the end of this route.

[cascoril]

//Sertraline, once a day//

i miss the feeling

Of feeling like shit

That gloom and dark

When life takes a hit

Sand emotion's edge

To save myself

But I miss the blade

Cutting my health

stop for a while

Excuses burning strong

But the lies aren't enough

for them to follow along

Do I miss the pain?

Like some masochist

Or do I miss pretending

I'm not on some list

Do I miss pretending

That life is a bliss

Why must I miss pretending

That I don't just hate this

[cascoril]

///Heal/// Vonstable Memorandum Section 1: Daëlim Subsection 3: Remeberances, Reflections, Anecdotes Subject: Healing

Something that has stuck out to me in these recent years is how many differences there where between Daëlim and myself- and yet very few of them ever hurt us. truthfully, i believe they aided us as a pair, in both a personal and professional way.

onesuch thing was, as the subject suggests, methods of healing. I, of course, have my magic: i simply have to lay hands upon someojr and imbue them to heal many injuries.

Daëlim never did that. He never needed it.

One memorie that sticks out from the rest is from our second time travelling together- the work we did in defense of Mayalamara. We had just been ambushed by bandits while split up from the others and i had taken a heavy hit to the shoulder - not by any fault of my own, simply an unlucky hit meeting a minor kink in my armour.

anyway, i was exhausted after the fight- id been running around the entire battle, keeping damage off Daëlim and spreading much of my own. this gave rise to a difficult predicament - i was too tired to heal myself, yet in too much pain to be able to rest. maybe i would've been able to rest eventually, but it certainly wasnt coming soon.

It took a moment for Daëlim to notice: things had been quite awkward the last few days, we where both trying to ignore eachother to an extent. However when he noticed, he simply pulled some collection of berries out of his pouch and set to work making a compress.

As he did that we spoke in a way we hadnt before. He told me of his growing up, and how he had learned such practical medicines. He had always had a storyteller's streak in him - maybe he didnt get to use it often, but when he did i would sit enraptured.

i only hope these writings can catch a glimpse of that beauty, of his vibrant yet subtle soul.