klarion-the-witch-boi - Tumblr blog

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

this is supposed to be good news

i thought everything was impossibly larger than me.

i thought i had to defeat anything just to move from this place.

and then i chose to sleep a little earlier.

and i woke up to a world of possible changes.

sleep can cure many wounds

and possibilities haunt and heal me.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

october

outside the air is crisp and cool

but

here, inside,

nothing is happening

yet again.

im trying in a way that leads

inevitably

to giving up.

i wake like a pit of darkness; i consume affection, pulling in any touch i can conquer.

i want to own everything

but it's too much work.

i want to be everyone alive

but living is just so large.

maybe, as each leaf falls, it will get easier.

or, maybe i'll just keep sleeping.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

daysanddaysanddaysanddaysanddaysand

september crept in and i chose not to watch.

i huddled under my blankets like they were a fortress.

i hid within their feverish warmth like they were still a comfort,

as if they haven't encroached on my body; sheets instead of chains but still so persistant.

so disheartening.

i don't know how many tries i get left but i will wake up tomorrow and see the leaves change.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

signs that you should get more sleep:

the days are thick with heat like a supernova before the dying of a star.

its only august. but its also august and i havent become anyone new this year. i think i havent changed in a long time.

maybe, all we can ever do is be ourselves, no matter how we try to grow.

if i try to be anything different at all, will i just burn up?

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

i killed a tiger in my dream.

the entirety is convoluted,

but the basics were like so:

i was home, alone

but for my elderly grandfather on a farm that my other

grandfather lived.

(he, for some reason, was not present.)

we were eating dinner

and i remember leaving the window wide open

and thinking i saw a wolf.

that made me nervous and, frantic,

i called up my parents who were quick to drive

back from wherever in dreamland they ended up.

now,

somehow my family approached the house

at just the same time that hoards of

apex predators descended

from the woods.

there were bears, wolves, coyotes, and panthers

all running wild around the house.

they were less hunting and more overwhelming all of us

but somehow my family members make it inside.

the only problem was that

soon the door was attacked by a terrible knocking.

a

scratching,

a

scraping,

a

howling,

a

maiming.

the only choice was to lean up against it

and hear

as the growled voice of the tiger announced

it's terrible need to kill.

at some point the herd and its head vanished back to the woods.

in true dreamland logic,

my family forgets the car and must march through the

bushes if we want to reach safety.

so,

we push through the bramble

with the ever present fear on our minds of the beasts

and try hard to ignore each crackling twig

or crinkling leaf or squishing mud.

eventually,

the climax arrives and the tiger is back.

it is orange,

with large,

sharp,

white teeth.

it has huge paws that press into the dirt like

a child's hands mold play-dough.

then,

it pounces.

only, instead of attacking,

it changes shapes into the monstrous form of a human being.

she is not too young or old

and spends her time lamenting.

she tells me,

intimately,

all her past troubles.

how the world has been harsh

but the forest is harder.

how all she wants is to stop and for the ones that control her

to falter.

there is much more for her to say, only,

then i had a gun so she morphed back to a tiger and i shot her

without ever really caring for her story at all.

and i woke up.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

Bookbinding resources masterpost!

Although I've only made one casebound so far, I've recieved multiple requests to make a tutorial. And well, I'm not that good. But I can share some of the online resources that have helped me.

• Youtube

DAS bookbinding - lots of bookmaking methods, explained in detail.

Annesi Bindings - mostly casebinding, and other useful things.

Dan Siebel's kettle stitch tutorial -short video on how to do a kettle stitch. Filmed up-close.

• Tumblr

Renegade Publishing - a group of independent fanbinders. They have a discord (though it's 18+) and answer binding related questions on the blog.

Armoredsuperheavy - founder of renegade publishing. Maintains multiple docs about the full process of making a book.

Hedgehog-moss's post about bookbinding - beginner information, links to resources

•Reddit

r/bookbinding - a large community of people. You can share your progress, ask questions. You may get criticism though. Expect brutal honesty.

•Other

Alternative bookbinding supplies - We don't all have the correct supplies lying around. It's fine.

How to: Headbands - article about sewing headbands.

Don't forget to use acid free materials! Acidic paper/glue decays with time, causing your book to turn yellow and fall apart. PVA and weath paste are commonly used adhesives.

I will update this as I find more sources! I'm still learning.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

title title title

ive spent so much time

on perfecting

that i hardly ever start.

this could have happened years ago

but three sentences will allude me;

a one-liner slips and makes everyone

giggle

but i sit with these words.

i dont think i should.

the farther i look the more i build upwards

for help

and the taller the cage grows;

trapping everything

does that make sense?

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

I told her she shined, when

She was actually gleaming just like grime and grout

There are parts that stick out from her

All protruding-like that I understand

And call attractive or appealing

While the rest is sludge

To me

Is it wrong to grant her a name like beautiful

When all this time I was lying?

It made her feel something,

If not good

And she is not tar; one-sided, blank expanses

But the dirt roads

Overrun with evergreens and dandelions and forget-me-nots

There is texture to be found

All around her,

At the very least

And even, sometimes, parts of her

That divulge deep into

Striking forests so tangible and real to me

That I can get lost

For hours before I realize

That she would

Always be a road either way.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

As if it was

Something I could forget,

I remembered Time.

Since the first breath

Of mine,

I thought the grip

Only ever knew how to tighten

Itself around my throat

Ever so slow

Like the turning of

The page of a terrible book.

I assumed Time was bored

When it came to me

In the evenings

Or on long walks

By myself

Where only

The both of us

Could feel the shifts

And breaths

And rustles

Of the seconds.

It never danced across

My brain stem

This idea;

That the bridges and walls,

All of my history

I built into

Being with only

Ever

Mild arrogance was

Faulty

All along.

There is no

Absolute to this

Or anyway

For me to hold on

When I am

Gone.

Time

Will take

That too.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

I want those days back;

Big, 

red, 

comfy, 

couch.

Now, I know it was black,

But isn’t that better than your skinned palms?

Your written words that were thought to bring calm,

Shouldn’t they now be psalms, like the 42?

All of this is lamenting, maybe it’s what people are bound to do

For eternity, or until

Someone hears and finally looks to see

The wild beasts that run free like all thoughts must 

Leave to the sea, deep into our minds.

 

I can’t help but think of more,

Even though there is nothing I am fighting for

In this I am stagnant.

I only feel like the vagrant,

Like the man so holy he spends his life asking, "Where?"

Sweat drips through his fingers,

He keeps them clenched,

There is nothing to spare.

Until, he will point to something glistening in the desert just like him, 

And think to ask, "There?"

Anything looks like the creator when it is a first meeting.

Finally, I think back to you 

Who is still bleeding.

All of your pages come back drenched,

Each syllable squeezing the unease in my stomach back up my throat

Where I will choke on the fear.

There is nothing to hear,

No, not by you. 

I have nothing to say.

I know best how the mind is the only way,

Back into our shrines 

We call 

Good

Old

Days.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

because i think that they’re beautiful

I taught you to create because I knew how you felt about destruction;

It was built into your bones, settled down in your ribcage by your heart.

It calcified as you grew, as you changed.

And everyone is telling me that this is inevitable.

I set the table, pull out a chair, drink from my glass and find it bitter.

Terrible.

You once looked at me and all I could see were the food smears on your face.

When I glance at you now your face is clean.

And this is not me cursing you out...

I am not angry, just downtrodden.

Back when sticks held more meaning and rocks stayed unpolished

You were never shaped for cruelty.

Then you filled out like tree branches, touched the sky and found it lacking.

You set the table, pull out a chair, stand on the chair, climb on the table,

Smash all the cutlery under fierce feet, grab a tank of gasoline and drench

Everything.

Grab a pack of matches and light everything on fire.

And I’m not angry, I can never be.

I want to be called to watch the flames burn, not forced to tend to the ashes.

But I don’t know you in the way I think, and it’s impossible for me to try.

So, I run late to every party.

I hesitate on every other sip. It’s still bitter.

Eventually, I’ll stop drinking and the world will exclaim,

“You need this! You’ll die! That’s not what we meant!”

But I’d only ever been to this house because of you, and you were the reason to stay.

So, I’ll walk down to the front door, and step into the night air.

Then I’ll pause and think of you so I’ll turn around.

I’ll see you through the dining room window.

And you’ll be where you have been for centuries, destroying everything,

Setting your world on fire.

I’ll turn to face the street and keep on walking.

[klarion-the-witch-boi]

She thought pride was what held us apart;

I thought scars.

You see, when I built myself up like a book,

I never thought somebody would read it.

That was my fault.

I want to tell her that she can’t run away once she’s been here.

That’s not how this works.

It is built into her skin.

It is a muscle just like her tongue.

In fact, it is her tongue.

She needs this just to speak,

Doesn’t she see?

Of course she does.

Maybe, she always knew.

To be here before me, she had to.

But it is so much easier to wrap her

Thimble small self in a cage of bird wings

Hollowed out so that she grasps the grace of flight.

Her voice warbles as she sings, but it is beautiful.

It is free.

I want her to know easily that the cage was built for me.

No, it is me.

I am but bird wings.

I am hollowed out so that this-

These borrowed senses help me fly.

I carved myself out of bone

Like a ring or an instrument.

She can’t know what that feels like.

I will not wait for the day that she can.

I want to tell her so many different feelings she brings.

She is unlike the others.

One grew up like a sick dog gets better;

A little of my own care, all of his own heart. Unexpected, awesomely unpredictable.

The other has seen more than me.

Pushed through bogs of waste

Knee-deep

And crawled mountains with hands rubbed raw; bitterly clean.

They draw out things worse in me

Like a curse of us to pester each other

With all that we can learn.

But then I don’t spin these tales for them.

It is she who knows to look for me;

Look at me.

And yet she never really tried to notice me.

But I think that’s the kindest someone has ever been.

Bird wings bypass her.

They spread out when I wanted them to crowd around her.

I am spread out when I want to just be closer to her.

She holds so much more of me

With every awkward stutter of meaningless syllables

Because I am always there in each stumble

Of her mouth.

I am shoved pointedly between her straight teeth.

I stick out of her gums.

I am the plaque she never tries to clean.

And she keeps me there with purpose,

With a precision I don’t remember she has.

She is the one to envelope me.

And what a wonder that it is not words

She wraps me in.

It cannot be too tight

So, it never is.

And as I look at her,

I am not bird wings.

There is so much more to me.

No hollowed out shell framed prettily

But the ugliness of depth

And the cruelty of being read so effectively.

She is never pulled down to me.

She never figures out the smallest parts of me

But the wholeness of being loved is what she gifts to me.

And the stumbling of her tongue

Always seems to form

‘I do not know, but I love it

I love you anyways.’