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fortunefishsalad · 9 months ago

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Party Body swap weight gain

Kevin had always felt somewhat out of place in university. He was one of the only foreigners in his class, and was a pretty short guy so he often found it difficult to make friends with other people. He thought attending a party in the next-door dorm would be a good way to hopefully come out of his shell and befriend a few people so he put on some of his nicer clothes and went along with a few classmates.

The party itself wasn't particularly wild, but one guy specifically stood out among all the college students. He was a pretty hefty fellow, and Kevin recognized him as Brian- the guy who'd repeatedly failed to graduate and had pretty much made the college his home. It seemed his family was quite rich and the guy was pretty spoiled, so he never got any punishment for his continued failures. Worst of all, Brian was extremely loud and obnoxious which made him even more unpopular than Kevin.

Seeing as how the people at the party were all tired of Brian's annoying behavior, Kevin thought this might be an opportunity to finally make himself known to the student body and so, he walked up to the fat guy and spoke,

"Hey Fatty, why don't you go to a Wendy's or something. There's no more food left for you here."

"What'd you say to me, little guy?" Brian roared

"I said, waddle your fat ass out of here and stop ruining the night for everyone else, fatso!"

Brian muttered something under his nreath and stormed off, and as the crowd was cheering him on- Kevin, in a moment of boldness, followed after the guy he'd insulted.

Stepping out into the hallway, Kevin smugly walked towards Brian who seemed to have entered his own room. Shamelessly following after the man, Kevin was just about to insult Brian's weight again when a bright flash of light practically blinded him and he found himself losing his balance, and soon drifting off as he fell to the floor.

Coming to, Kevin groaned as he tried to push himself up- but found it was much harder to do so than usual. Rubbing his eyes, the young man finally managed to push himself up into a sitting position only to be met by a horrifying sight. There stood, his body- smirking at him. This wasn't a mirror's reflection... no that was Kevin standing right there at himself... or, more so- staring at whatever Kevin had now turned into

"You know, dude. I was gonna have you have your moment but you just had to follow after me, didn't you?"

"What... what the hell did you do?"

"I took your god damn body and out you in mine. So, who's the fatty now, shithead?"

Kevin took a moment to look down at his body, and immediately a scream followed his realization that he was now Brian, the fat failure! Pushing himself up, Kevin felt his disgusting body and turned to his old boy

"TURN ME BACK RIGHT NOW!"

"Turn you back? Fat chance.. hahah, get it, fat!"

"You're never getting this cute ass asian body back, enjoy your life as a 28 year old fatass!"

With that the new Kevin walked away, leaving behind a crying mess, which was the new Brian. To any observer, it just seemed like Kevin had put Brian in his place and made him cry like the man-child he was, but in reality- Brian had taken everything Kevin had and left him in a ridiculous body, which was 10 years older.

....................................................................................

It had been 5 years since the swap now and Kevin had had a pretty hard time adapting to his new body. Despite his multiple attempts to get his body back, Brian had ridiculed Kevin publicly and left him even more hated, while Bruan grew more and more popular.

At the very least, Kevin was much better at his classes than Brian ever was, so he had actually managed to graduate and even lose a few pounds of weight in his time in Brian's body. He was about to move out of the dorms, and was just getting more comfortable with himself when he saw his old body... in a ruined state.

His beautiful hair had been shaved off on the sides and was shorter than he'd ever let it be, and his gorgeous fit body was now even fatter than the body Brian had left him in. And on hisface was the nastiest smirk Kevin had ever seen.

"Hey man. Heard you graduated in my body... I was thinking, you learned your lesson sooo"

"No, NO DON'T YOU FUCKING DA-"

That was all Kevin could say when he saw the flash again. In a few hours, he awoke in his old body, fat, sweaty and with a terrible haircut. 5 years of his life seamlessly taken away from him while he lost his only chance at studying at the university of his dreams...

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fortunefishsalad · 11 months ago

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I feel like a giant sleeping with these low ceilings

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fortunefishsalad · 2 years ago

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Everything can change at any point!

Create images here: https://www.bing.com/images/create?FORM=GENILP before i say anything else though: not following someone else's prompts means you'll likely find some wild and unexpected things yourself. If you follow my prompts like they're laws, you will only ever get results like mine. There are people doing much cooler, weirder things. Don't get restricted by this.

the site was VERY BROKEN for the last 6 days, you haven't been banned. You get 15 boosts a day which usually override any current downtime, but the popup thinks you get 25 a week, which is an indicator of how busted and poorly planned they were for this flood of users. It's not too hard to create illegal results, and there's millions of users, so it's very unlikely a human is ever looking at your results. Unless you're doing really spectacularly terrible things, of course. If you get the warning as soon as you enter your prompt, change the most controversial aspects of your prompt immediately, as repeats of this will get you suspended for increasingly long times. It is possible to make alt accounts with throwaway emails though. It's unconfirmed but it appears that US residents get priority access during US times, and UK residents can only reliably make things from 7am to 1pm for example. Weekend access is a crapshoot. I don't personally pay for ChatGPT so I can't say anything about the alleged priority access you get there, but even that can be slow and restricted during the worst times (I assume this will the their priority to fix though). There are many conflicting reports about whether it's more censored or not. Reports is a very fancy way of saying reddit comments.

Everything I superstitiously guess about prompts:

you can be very descriptive and write in natural english, or you can be very brief. both methods work, I suspect both versions do different things. repetition and restating the same thing in other ways also seems to emphasise (possibly.) Prompts can be quite chaotic and contradictory - you can describe a lot of things happening and it may surprise you, so have fun with weirdness! some words are "heavy" against the automated filters, and can be safe in one prompt and unsafe in another. think of it like buckaroo, the AI is trying to find meaning in your prompt and it will sometimes combine things and get mad about it. be aware of politics and words that may be used in erotic senses, and switch those up.

this is the format I use the most because i am super lazy and unimaginative. items in [ ] are optional and can be anything, and I don't know how the word order matters - in old Midjourney it mattered quite a bit according to guides, but now they're all pushing to parse natural english I'm not so sure:

[number of] [body type] [age] [nationality] [male noun or job] wearing [clothes], with a [size, shape] belly, [hair description], [pose], [location, time of day, weather, lighting, era], [facial expression or attitude], [actions]

The number of guys can be vague like "several." Also placing a number here will generally result in all men being fat. To add a second, very different person (even women! imagine the power), simply describe that in plain english later in the prompt. Try adding "with friends" or something and seeing what happens.

Mentioning body type is separate from mentioning that he has a large stomach because "fat man" alone doesn't make him very fat. also, the body type prompt will dictate his physical build underneath the belly - this allows you to make mpreg very easily, for example. Mentioning his belly separately also seems to be a key part in making clothes not cover it up. However, DallE has clearly gotten much better at this for some clothes, but not all of them. Formalwear is improving, though tactical vests no longer do the cute thing they used to do, and football shirts still ride up reliably. Nationality can be weird, and you can use it to exploit stereotypes, or it can be an eye-opening view of stereotypes from countries you barely know about - want to know what differentiates an Angolan man from a Kenyan man? Probably don't trust AI results! I suspect some countries are controversial due to current politics, and I suspect some are controversial due to fetishy stereotyping. However, if for example "English man" got censored, consider going for capital cities or famous regions, eg "London man." Maybe look up sports teams from that country. I'm a big fan of the "Italian-American" prompt but lately it's gotten quite a few results blocked, so I'd switch to "New Jersey," maybe even "New Jersey Italian."

"Handsome" may slim your results down, or even break the prompt entirely. Consider making your men footballers or rugby players, mention trendy haircuts, or using out of date synonyms to get round it. AI isn't all that likely to give you especially ugly results anyway, particularly if you specify ages under 40. It doesn't get the hair precisely right, but even a generic prompt like "short thick hair" can help. Giving your character a job may dictate what he'll wear, but you might want to specify what clothes you want anyway. Don't mention either if you hope he'll turn out naked. Certain jobs are tricky to use, as AI strains to be as unpolitical as possible - it doesn't want you doing politicians and it sometimes seems to refuse anything that might make the police or military look bad. However, it will accept "wearing a [colour] uniform/pilot shirt" very happily, because it's duuuuumb.

Mention trousers, footwear or even just feet if your results keep zooming in too much. (It'll also zoom in if you mention too much about his face, I think.) Side view appears to make certain prompts fatter, but will often mean he's looking away - you can add "Looking at camera" if you want that. Metallic and plastic clothes can have very fun and weird results, especially if you change the location to a night setting in the rain. Gladiator costumes will reduce his clothes to a few leather straps.

"Flex pose" and "strong pose" will get butch bodybuilder poses (it will also buff up the muscle mass) and "battling strong winds" gets very superhero poses. At least when I was trying these out, I found I couldn't actually get proper bodybuilder poses or mention of superheroes past the censor, but it's been a few weeks so who knows what it's up to now. Give them all a go!

Casual poses and actions can liven things up a little if you just want portraits but don't want it to repeatedly be the same thing facing you directly. Getting out of a car, climbing stairs, leaning against things, adjusting his clothes or putting on a coat, all these kinds of things work. Smoking or drinking does quite a lot. "Tired" or "Exhausted" changes his attitude a lot too, your leans get leaned into more.

Contact words can be a little difficult, so consider ways to exploit using soft contact, or be very wordy and detailed about it so it's not misinterpreting you. "Patting him on the back" is a fairly safe phrase, but DallE isn't intelligent, so it will allow the contact but it will struggle to be precise, especially when the bodies are fat or not positioned in a way they can reach the back - the result of this is that there will be a lot of belly pats. Prodding in the stomach, pointing at the stomach, these both work, but I think DallE is vague about stomach=torso and you may want "pointing at his belt" to give a lower focus. Admiring can direct attention and vibes, whispering will draw their heads closer and make them interact somewhat. Embracing and hugging work but is very heavy for the censor, "hugging on his shoulder/belly" seems safer for some reason. Shaking, grabbing, "examining/concerned about his belly" can work. Bizarrely, squeezing past another man in a narrow corridor/doorway/cupboard works if you want a LOT of contact. And if you want unpredictable contact, fighting can work.

For more dynamic safe contact, try sporting actions. Baseball slides, football tackles, that kind of thing. It's hard to get them to lie flat and the AI seems to resist allowing heads to touch the ground, but "lying in a hammock" works pretty well, and sometimes specifying what the head is touching works. pretty much every minor prompt variation and scenario I've ever used:

"falling onto a broken chair/breaking an object with his weight" "washing windows" "with waiters helping him up" "with friends bringing him food" "falling over another man" "outside of a skyscraper washing windows, harness for safety, hoisted" "hyper-obese man wearing denim dungarees with an enormous inflated belly, drinking from a hose" ("blowing into a hose" gets better expressions for that IMO) "stuck in a broken narrow red british phonebooth with another man, bursting out with his enormous belly, black trousers" "bent over eating at a pie eating contest wearing a dirty white tank top with an enormous round belly and his face hidden buried in messy pie" "sitting on a throne next to a very fat 35 year old spanish monarch" "lying on his back the floor, enjoying a banquet, side view, tired expression" "very fat 35 year old handsome british man wearing tracksuit and gold chain with a hugely distended beerbelly, man with a massive round stomach, washing his car in a carpark at night side view" "at water park, stuck in a water slide" "before and after weightloss picture, in the left he is X and in the right he is Y" "with a large round belly spilled over eating at a banquet with an enormous round belly, bronzed, with waiters helping him up/being prodded with a fork" "washing dishes and leaning over his belly on a freestanding enamel pedestal basin" "climbing and leaning against a stepladder to change a lightbulb on the ceiling [with friend holding the stepladder steady]" "side view, photo of two 40 year old beefy handsome fat italian-american rugby player with a hugely distended round belly, resting hand on his chest, wearing a tracksuit with a gigantic round sagging stomach, gold chain, raining, whispering in a car park at night, leaning/hugging on shoulder, tired, stern expression looking at camera, smoking a cigarette" "side view photo of two strong 40 year old handsome samoan rugby player with a hugely distended round beerbelly, chest hair, wearing a white formal shirt and black suit, hugging on his belly, proud expectant father, boyfriends outside a busy pub at night, stern, looking at camera, raining" "two fat los angeles rams handsome footballers wearing white pilot shirt and plain tie and black trousers pushing through a narrow saloon door with their enormously distended beerbellies, stern" "photo of very fat 30 year old hunk rugby player with enormously distended belly, carrying his belly in a wheelbarrow" "very fat 35 year old man wearing white pilot shirt with an enormous round belly, tough man with a very large beerbelly, too fat for small broken airplane seat sitting on another man, fat belly spilling over armrest and pressing against over man, black trousers, slightly concerned, suave" "being carried on the back of a flatbed truck" can turn them into horrific lardvalanches but you don't get much control over it

original characters do not steal prompts: "30 year old man who looks like he's the main character from the game Uncharted with an enormous distended round beerbelly, with one hand on a bar in a pub, nathan" This is sometimes surprisingly effective, but most often it'll simply draw vibes from the IP mentioned, so you can use it to get specific settings at least

Try spelling the names wrong or reversing the name order - sometimes it'll even accept names sprinkled throughout the prompt. Repeating the name may increase its effect (it might also not!) Also it's speculated that placing the celebrity fraud in a place or situation they would normally be found in helps. That said, I could only get a Robert Downey Jr if I made him dress as a gladiator. So maybe weirdness and ingenuity are your strengths. see also https://www.tumblr.com/baron-bear/731903035856584704/what-do-you-use-for-your-ai-stuff

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

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6/14/22

constant reminder ||

it’s so silly string, the way it ebbs and flows nothing new, second season renewed same shit, different place new people

my music ||

on the other side of the earth, you’ve got those little fancy white headphones the ones that fit just right and perfect just like your schedule just like that last shot of whiskey seconds before

the albums only i like songs you’ve never heard venn diagram sitting pretty i always forget i’m not a perfect overlap i’m not your soulmate i’m a childhood memory can i trust

and it’s my constant eye contact miles away and i’m starin’ missing the taste of a cigar my hand in your mouth mr. perfect always forever mr. deeply at unease mr. problem for everyone celebrity sobriety vroom vroom ||

i speak when spoken to i regret any other word and yet, without saying a thing our love has become a vehicle my heart loves to drive around the neighborhood, all night long to feel the polaroid of you taped to the rearview to feel i see you when checking to turn to feel the car only turns on when you’re on my mind every emotion in the font of us, you, some ethereal me

my own things ||

when i’m alone i act a little crazy do we all? it makes me think i’m autistic and i wonder, do we all? and then i figure probably not. when i’m alone i find my self fumbling for some cellphone type object where time i once had can become the next thing i have planned

i don’t love being alone everytime i make plans i have to hold my phone halfway across the country. otherwise i’d sit here alone all night. all day.

ineteen ||

twenty second puberty twenty one, i didn’t wait for it am i wiser, better off? to be a drunk never been more enticing cigarettes: something spiritual absolutely empty, pass the bottle, i’ll let him tell you how i feel fag behavoir, or something touched god understood infinity in the absence of a pill haven’t felt like a kid

learning to open the door getting quieter, in my old age less friendly, more loving worth being friends with this wine hasn’t been, getting there loving my mom, apologizing to my sister, working on my dad [REDACTED]

i’ve been looking for a mirror and the world held one up it’s all a conversation if i ask, we shall receive i make of this life everything it will become so as i crab may i be reminded this was nineteen love poem ||

you’re the oldest cat disinterested in affection looking for the next most comfortable spot and i’m the youngest kid bothering, pestering, doing all i can to love you as annoyed, as bored sitting in peace no hiss, no leave as i carry you across the world tightly supported by my arms you catch yourself dozing off only to wake up, softly, next to my body sprawled in the setting sunlight

love poem 2 ||

fish tank behavior i can see my friends, DO NOT TOUCH banging on the glass, soundproof inside out a hand touches another, another yet pressure, increasing a crack, something loud shatter, flopping on the ground a hand reaches lifted to the stars i find myself in company caring, kind, in between

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

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6/12/22

a new element ||

scorpio rising for the last four years something new comes in with the tides made of water, seafoam green a red hard shell, a lover’s plea my claws, sharp and tight only the better to hold your hand, mind the sand from sea to land my heart, a little flame candle dripping hot red wax mind tipping sit back, relax and the jester takes his bow don’t they all love him as the world revolves, so does he do his show

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

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6/4/22

it’s getting quieter ||

and somehow i can hear it all now the tiniest feet of the bugs, their every movement the never-ending song of the birds a soft shattering something

the hum of every engine, to pass this disgruntled, human shaped mass flags as they blow in the wind, the soft gentle caress of the earth, how does it compare?

the silence in these rooms, some say their heads are screaming some say their thoughts are so loud, they are caught gazing, completely consumed, only to be snapped back to this reality.

but it’s been getting quieter up here, out there, around me

clove ||

i can’t seem to recall when it got so bad but everyone else remembers perfectly.

when i walked up so many deep to meet god at his doorstep my bare, cold feet, slapping the marble wet sopping tears dry as can be now empty canals running down my face

i asked of the art being the mona lisa do we become the mirrors or are the people closest in heart and yet farthest in time am i to see their life reflected in them so, where hides my own in these hands in this voice

a lonely, drunk enough, drive home i could have had company but i’m learning i keep it pretty cold is the nature of the game such that we never truly learn to play and is that in itself, to play? another cruel reminder, you’re never going to be gold only plated.

all the answers ||

and they call me a cynic, but i know how to find them all the answers no one wants to hear it no one wants to even be near it

in the battlefield we see flowers and i step to pick one you call to me something about disrespect so i fall into them all and, crushed, they begin to embrace me and you were gone as i listened, to all the answers

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

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5/31/22

the end of may ||

sun shining brighter it’s so hot these days and i can barely see the world bends as this heat rises from the asphalt from the black, dark, burning asphalt

and i hear the train it’s coming to town my lover took a ticket standing in line, making eye contact with tied laces, my eyes in blankets made of this pavement to bring ||

i packed it all up an overstuffed reminder, it’s all in this heart it’s all in this heart

cracking the sides open it seems to stare back at me it seems to have big familiar eyes i see roads full of people people who know me who know they know me

and the gravity makes my hands and the suitcase begins to open as i scream, betrayed by my body it pours it’s everything all on top of me and the weight crushing, polite, childish

under this pressure under these woods, developed into parking lots under your mom’s house in a room i’ve not seen in years through whispers of sentiment through windows staring at strangers

i am small and my fingers fit around a finger i am little in this big body and these ears, sensitive, disciplined, distant my all knowing eyes

open your eyes focus on the road drive. the car you could have taken the train in your eyes ||

your mirror’s all cracked coming out of the bathroom intimacy in the foreign do you stare in that?

your red’s blood-colored mother’s hair-paint brush wet the canvas black and white we begin color seems to come out as the perfect shatters softly and i’m lead into this room where we keep the portraits, or what we can remember of them

cockroaches scutter up the walls smells familiar, did someone light a cigarette? and can i have a puff sitting around the art, eyes on me i smoke on the inhale and i die on the exhale

you keep it nice in here, picking cobwebs off it all must be nice to be here, staring at lines in your skin

artists, the lot of us artists, god

something to prove ||

i run the track it starts here, it ends here and i run this track every day i'm the only person, to do this every day i am adonis to keep the pace and the neighbors watch me, a local phenomenon i’ve heard they place bets sometimes i am joined they never keep pace some don’t know how to keep to keep my pace i know how to keep everyone’s pace never the same people always the same track never the same pace in the early mornings, sick tired rolling out of bed and onto the track the neighbors waving on their routine my brain is made of cereal poured from my government issued box my feet are machines that run on gasoline and this automaton, cold metal body on this treadmill i see no neighbors it’s a desolate party and i choose to run everyday even the days where i walk, my body knows we’re running i’m fooling everybody they let me think i’m fooling everybody i chant, my mantra and i trip water, please ||

my heart bangs slamming its head against a fragile chest i hear it in my ears a ringing a screaming we cut her line god, years ago. the heart, muzzled pulling on the chains free, for a moment grasping the wet of my throat a warm feeling in my stomach, aiding her escape she stumbles, back to prison people ask to see ask what she’s done and i begin to laugh? as she crushes my lungs and i begin to fall crumbling to the ground i become a pile of everything a puddle, can you see your reflection? it’s in there. slowly, pouring it all into some new container maybe this will last forged from experience i beg, please let this last i have no brain but i have a big mouth and a sharp tongue. i have no heart a well kept secret a well kept experiment just a hypothesis jericho

running on e ||

pushing my car, across the thruway beaming.

no one stops, i’m running, we’re going fast enough, it seems

i wanted to hit you standing there, right where i’m headed.

maybe its the sun maybe it was time to rest maybe i believed you

sitting talking as they zoom by

and i see your shoes, run down as they zoom by

and they zoom by and you touch my face to look in your eyes

holding me enough to pop me open yawning, for the first time, crying

back to the road stationary on the shoulder full on gas

and you’re driving, just old shoes, i guess and you were always driving

i get out, to walk, without pushing proposeful ||

a house empty and alone dishes that do themselves clean, all the time even when it’s dirty

i sit quietly in the rooms losing my mind finding myself leaving everyone behind it was dark that night, that i dropped the bomb on this town

and i was the fireplace and it was summer and lit, everyone held water

but he the glorious, fucking, ethereal between sobs, i am held one body i am loved let my hand hold this other never once has he left through the ash he was

some may call me lonely i am the luckiest hermit for i love my husband for i am my husband

letter one ||

kick me they used to put it on my back now, i stand here, begging touch me however you please kick me. i am in no position to ask i am in no position to do anything. but beg.

letter two ||

there’s a tone five to be exact in your voice and i am a body of water you will fit inside, no matter the position, no matter the disposition, no matter

sideline love ||

i would see the trip the stumble to the ground and running, i would come no speed too fast sliding down to the ground to the bottom of the earth no one could come faster and in a tight embrace with a bright face to make your weight light the world fell off your shoulders and onto mine

harder than a boulder the drink in my hand glancing over polaroid memories i remember how nowadays, i would see your lips reaching to meet mine i knew. and placing mine gently on your cheek he’s behind a door someplace we lost the key to that cheerleader (UNFINISHED)

letter three ||

it was melting wet, chocolate pieces staining pieces gravity pulling them down to earth to fall gently onto this shirt something so quickly tossed into my life finding our love in the pointless in the two days straight it’s played on my body to the idea of ownership to the promise to see eachother again imagining, like fabric softener how this fell on your body and the remembering of how to sat on mine in the hope of seeing you, wearing this piece of me, in this piece of you running messy fingers along the spots caused by my being in it catching whiffs of us together in my my intimate moments alone of you, coloring in my everyday pulling the fabric to my nose submerging myself in the middle hugging it’s limp form, remembering that i will one day hug you

one day a plane, and one day a city, in a language we hope to know in a language you care so much more deeply about than me in my suitcase, something i forgot to give you my ticket to ride my starving hands, quivering, handing it off to you a shirt covered in life my life god, it almost looks like a ring

i’ll know he loves me ||

there’s a weight to the conversation the art of talking at all i’m an olympic champion by god’s petty hand forcing my own they would hang my mouth in the louvre i am robotic, so perfectly human the work it took to build this body around my delicate frame, as he played with his toys these days i catch myself coughing blood and i catch myself an expert at hiding it in the laughs

i’m working on a pack of cigarettes i mean, you’d be surprised, but this thing is so adaptive perfect in its learning so anyways, it takes balls to be this bold being a man helps, sorry if that’s shitty to say i’m just the universe’s little fucking baby sitting and sobbing in this crib

sorry to be so quiet, just thinking, watching him is so fun, i think god what a soul, you know? so glad to be so quiet, i think we do a good job. we keep a nice, tidy little ship here i remember the first time we went somewhere. and i said, god, maybe…? ten words. the whole time. such peace. to be, quiet. happily.

i would say he’s the reason i retired from happy or was it some mix of it all, somehow all at one time, just me being over it, him being so damn excited, and finding each other in the middle aquarius ||

distant, and far away in the same room. to the moon at my desk across this ocean minimalist decorating on a budget i think our thoughts do nicely i had forgotten the sound of silence but it sat in the way you worry pouring from fingertips busy at work on your own shit i find the motivation to do my own shit while completely and utterly obsessed me, the coming up, the bubbling of the champagne a glass a week old and not a care in the world the beauty in not a single word talk for hours, i’ll be here in my armchair the one we found together conversation glances pieces of eternity only we can see oh, to be so smart oh, to be so wise surrounded by the nicest most comfortable and the wonderful world of being alone with you as the world ||

to smoke, with you i smoke alone, with you clove cigarettes watching cars that you know the model of cars i can only see as people’s it’s the web that’s so pretty made up of our collection of everything i don’t need flowers i don’t need you to look at me just knowing that the time this time we spend together for you, is for me for me, everything in one exhale

midday movement and the moon in a dark, barely lit porch momental monologuing just so much whining, on my part and that hand, you must moisturize, passing every barrier painting green where once was red i swear god must have stapled my mouth shut i waste time wondering time you spend loving my quiet i’ll find you domestic

it’s in the mars ||

fuck your boxes it’s a system, unorganized in your unawareness call it a pride thing i’ll pity the fool been wrong before, many times before i’ll be everyone in the coming moments i’ll be quiet so waste your breath something to learn that, i’ll admit but mostly wasted breath selfish attrition disguised as selfless prescription

monday night quarterbacking ||

one day my mother will be dead and the other day i wished for it but today i know it will ruin me i fear further that with each year that passes us by my love for her, and by extension this life, will become more profound and layered a cat the same age as i am at my old age will pass some day soon and i know, so deeply, that a part of me will be laid to rest beside his body, which these days holds labored breaths i remember from the future an older, wiser, more loving me wishing he’d loved my mother as if she would die the next day, knowing she’s to die in the coming days i think the song will change as it tends to when she finally leaves how many days before it will she hope for it to come quicker or will she cling to each final breath, praying for another one to make its way in will i be close enough to hold her hand, the way my rebellious, young me would never one day my mother will be dying and i will become kinder i am only left to beg my current self to love them all so honestly so that when she is gone there they are

last one alive ||

my sister is the youngest an echo of a human being in every family portrait who grew into the loudest scream and as we, together, in absolute silence, lower our older brother back into the earth she is overcome with the reality, one she’s come to face twice before. staring into her empty, drowning i am trapped in my body desperate to be the older brother begging the ground to swallow her whole so i may lift the burden of the last one alive

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

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5/20/22

was funnier in my head ||

so it starts a little like this goes a little something like that and we’re eating sushi at some point then the stop sign starts giving directions and you laugh

smile for the picture, it’ll last longer than this conversation smile for my camera, i’ll look at it for longer than you’ll exist

and we get into the groove dance our little dance sing our silly songs and we’re playing in the park then the moms start being again and i laugh

oh shit i forgot to hit record whatever, it was funnier in my head

breaking ||

news! not for you, but for them

walking down hollywood broadway i stop at the local news stand, fireworks and billboards to get a sale, and i’m met with shooing hands and a disapproving stare

so naturally, i must get the paper and it’s full of news! such wonderful news! up and down the street, a splayed open paper in each couples arms reading and rejoicing crying and divorcing cheating and repeating rings, pretty things, and some memory of a mother in law

and you two, one whose ear’s heard stories of me one whose mind had my voice on repeat reading the paper you wrote together line by line, Breaking it down, News comes out biweekly, The updates come in with the wind, with the voices of new friends, of friends of friends

and i am the portrait in the study the gum on your shoes

i saw your eyes pass over me once and then again reading your weekly horoscope and i swear we met and i swear we spoke and i can’t remember the rest blackboard nosebleed ||

i opened up a dusty, chalk colored room i had this mosaic of maybe covering the door not to mention i’d thrown away the key not to mention i essentially had to not to mention your place in all of this

and when i walked in, the air was so young my old nose it began to bleed all over my septum ring all over the papers on the floor all over the wife beater i never got to wear

so i picked up the white, i mean, the chalk and i sniffed up the dust, i mean, the chalk and my brain began to buzz and i was holding the chalk

hours and minutes of small my body became immature my dad walked in on us in the bed years and months shaved off without all that facial hair i really looked like your boy

and as i woke up, from this dust induced coma, the blackboard was covered in language i knew had meaning and the faint smell of freshly popped popcorn and piss filled the room

tennis ||

“My friend and i say hi” ashley, i’m reminded you seemed almost offended god i hope so conscious remarks and decisions you seem sick of the games you know i don’t know how to play fair you seem sick, but you don’t seem to have outsmarted them

“did you block me on spotify” we’re bold, getting blunter with this tinge of it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter because what is this it’s a promise coated in so many layers of: god i’m over this, can we just with the lasting knowledge that we (probably can’t)

i wish you’d call me superficial, but i know we’re talking about him

i wonder if i’m the sun, but i hope we’re talking about him

i wonder if i matter at all, but i get a text from you,

unprompted

in the little moments ||

it’s the free food at taco bell earned from the slightest it’s the tiny conversation from the most earnest: understanding

i’m a romantic, in the little moments, i’m magnanimous, in the everyday

got out of my car, leaned against the plastic, somehow this parking lot, i’ve been in two million times before became costa rica the midday sun became moonlight and the phone in my hand shattered

sitting on a table, in our favorite spot, in our spot catching the ups shooting the shits taking it all too seriously every small movement, every twitch of the mouth, i’m clinging to every single word

and i’m reminded, it’s in the little moments, that we plant the seeds for the romance of our lives

i’m a romantic in love with the monotonous and enraptured by the cyclical

DDDEEP ||

it’s a language, the way you choose your music it’s a system, but boy do you have to study it

and from the shadows, and from these little places you could never see from the crack in the staircase, i know you so deeply so deeply that the words would scare you so deeply that you’ll never know how known you are

and of course, to make it about myself again, i wonder: has anyone ever known me to such an obsessive extent

i think about movies, the ex-boyfriend who calls in the dead of night, while you’re trying to get over him and in my own way i sigh a heavy, thick, loaded sigh and i put that mirror down, for sake of finding the reflection too fitting

to ground myself, i kiss my folded fist, clenched into something you can hit with soft, delicate, and kind against my skin and i see these little doorways against the backdrop and i remember how you climbed into one and i find myself to be coraline

met with the smell of fresh and wet dried and made into a lovely tea earthy, like drinking mother nature’s third eye

psychosis ||

i took a trip to an infinite bar, and got the universe’s number she looked just like me and we’ve spoken everyday since

when i think of the little i know of your life i think of the stunning, brilliant blue it must be but when i think of the little boy who’s living it i think of a deep dark black with spots of white (note to self, don’t fall in love in divorce aftermath)

i think of the me less than half a year ago i think of his rotting corpse, half-dressed prisoner of his mind and i stare into the mirror

it scared me, when we began. the number of clowns it was intense but i get it now this cosmic joke it feels good to be laughing alongside the universe

so i turn to the universe, in her all-knowing fart jokes and i am reminded, you will open your heart at your own pace but i am reminded, i must not hope to see what i desire i must not hope to see that you are shriveled and weak i must hope nothing i must accept your opening of your heart with the love of the mother i could one day be and as one human to another accept you, with simple kindness

simple kindness ||

i wait daily, for this dick to turn inside out, bloom i wonder monthly, will these nipples protrude will fat fill the area around them got milk?

it’s this man body it’s the distance from my beard the same it that’s raining

as per usual, it wasn’t one switch it was ten million little ones, over the span of months through which i realized, this judgment is a joke the critical lens, and now i’m laughing

so to all the me out there i vow to love you a little harder i promise to treat you a little kinder

to the me inside this meat suit i love you and i know you’re doing your best just like everyone else sincerely, someone who’s learned the power of simple kindness this forgetting takes place ||

i meet you over and over and i meet myself twice as often sitting there in the strangers of the world a passing smile, an awkward request, a hope for simple kindness, i see pieces of us in it all

my shoes have never been so many sizes my eyes so many colors my body so many different shapes and i’ve begun to lose you in the sea as much as i’ve found you in the constant shifting of the tides i’ve lost track of the importance of you

i threw away the key to a room i can’t remember into a pile of keys to rooms i can’t remember ever entering

so when i text you now, you’re getting the same me as a stranger so when i spend time with my close friends, they get the me they’ve made comfortable so when i talk with my family, i am honest in a way that cannot understand the depth of

to put it simply, for you to understand more plainly, to respectfully undermine your intelligence just as i accidentally did so many times

the world keeps spinning, and i’m on this rock for as long as i am and our lines are perpendicular now and you’re on the rock for as long as you are

so, let us enjoy these moments let us leave eachother with such pure, summer, memories

and then let us forget, let us forget the details and let us forget two man bicycle ||

a rolled blunt, some mint gum, my cars engine, a ring in your mailbox, pictures of a white dog, blowing up your phone, poetry in a bag of clothes, shared interests, model UN, not a single restaurant, a trip to new york city, your semester there, living domestic, a group of five or six, something shared, lovers in a dangerous spacetime, a pen, hours of mitski, playlist conversations, a powderpuff game, cafeteria lunch table, four people in a diner, two boys in a dorm, one seven hundred dollar flight, phone calls across oceans, valentines day on the couch

and the endless reminder

a hope to take you out one last time the honor to fight with you once again goodbyes harder than dying laying in the grass pacing around your stillness a thirteen thousandth hard conversation crying over laundry watching francis ha trying on stolen sweatshirts

this sea of us, exists in the hypothetical and the existential with a side of potential

spend all the time you can with me, give me something to dream about

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fortunefishsalad · 3 years ago

Text

3/24/22

rpecht ||

i hate this song, chorus fills my ears with blood, that shit beat leaves scars kindergarten level versework but, when we cross that bridge, my ears have a hand on their thigh, the other running circles lower back

bend me over fuck me over then hold me tight

it’s always the losers, the posers the slowers the half baked reflections a memorized routine spend half that brain on you, we’d all be happier

immediately ||

something smells, light a match, quick

pack my shit never learned how to sew breadcrumbs

dry in the wash, wet in the dryer

number’s on the fridge, behind the business card

picture of your family in front hand shaped hole behind

letter to the editor ||

breathe me, genuinely. don’t think it’s possible?

lip to lip in out until in out it’s all in out CO2 in out pass out

it’s a toxin to love me a miracle to be romanced by me as this oxygen we need slowly kills i will learn to wean myself off and onto you

pen scribble keyboard tip tap a little letter to the editor

this character, pivotal plot point mirror to makeout with hair however make him unnecessarily devoted the kind of cat that comes when it’s called the leave his friends kind the pick up anytime kind the cries when im gone kind fights his mom for me kills for me

a simply boon, i drip from the mouth, i drool at the thought, (it’s not too much to ask!) worst night ||

volunteer! the soup kitchen stinky thrift spot local highschool a lovely sentiment. joining our armchairs always seemed boring

maybe i liked being the dog panting, waiting, looking, craving any car could be yours every book i’ve read since, half-hearted excuse to look up, no sound of no engine, but my eyes meet an empty blacktop

work! immigration center cute cozy cafe your mom’s firm a practical sentiment. i’m no money tree funny how we’re never short

work! like highschool work! like Howard’s work! like i took your order lots of numbers, no tip usually trash can calls, but your handwriting was so clean

so in quiet dust bunny moments like a funny surprise for tomorrow, start working at the fancy shmancy restaurant my uniform bland and rich, i sticker my name tag smiley, almost excited

i never knew you liked cheesecake but she knew instantly, ordering it for you and in my silence, choking, starving, screaming, silence

my clothes from daily were back on, my name tag locked away for littering my everything packed into two year old suitcases

i left my uniform on the bed, folded, my only skill, logo side up

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