#crumbling to dust i dont even know if these Words Make Sense my brain is somewhere else at the moment

[pawbeanies]

mm thinking about helping your highness get ready. going to your chambers to wake you up, cooing softly at how messy your hair is, and helping you up out of bed. picking your clothes out and helping you get dressed, softly praising you about how regal you look. I'd make an offhand comment about how you wear whatever I pick like a dog wears his collar and click my tongue. you hear me, but I wave you off and direct your attention to breakfast. setting your food on the table in front of you and telling you to be a good boy and eat your food, clicking my tongue. again, you question me, and again, I wave you off. that continues all day. I help you with something, praise and click, and then move on before you think too much about it. eventually, you subconsciously begin to anticipate the clicks and associate them with me serving and praising you. one day, I notice you struggling with some work and decide that you're in need of a break. so, i come up behind you and rub your shoulders. i tell you that you've been working so hard, click. you've been such a good prince, tending to your responsibilities, click. on and on i go, gradually pulling you away from your work and closer to me. at this point, even if you don't know what to expect from me getting on my knees, your body does; to be serviced.

- 🌹

whining?? whining??? mean??? MEAN??

hi hii thank you for the ask but hgh this one's so mean. i'm not squirming at the thought of being spoiled and praised and clicker trained by my very good dog. nope not at all.

hh. my brain has been melting at this one for a bit and i cannot think of WORDS but. the concept is so good i think like !! even just the. bit about taking care of me in the morning is soo. i may be a prince but i am also a pupy... i'm not much of a morning person so i'm sure i'd be extra pliant too... going along with it without much fuss

i would be confused at first of course but you take such good care of me that i'd simply just get used to it with no need for too many questions. i wouldn't think about it too hard.. there's so many other things for me to think about after all. not even realizing i'm getting used to it and anticipating it.... clicker training your prince is!! very mean and cruel but also. maybe i am. a dumb dog at heart too so it would be so easy.. anticipating the clicks not unlike how i anticipate these asks and get. so excited when i see the rose at the end i mean what who said that?

hgh. by the time you'd actually be able pull me away from work i'd be so desperate for it. squirming in my chair and whining a little bit because my body is expecting it even though my brain hasn't caught up yet. but since you made this happen you'd better take responsibility and take good care of me (please..)

[triumphorce]

under umbras of bundles  of stars,

canopies of leaves & branches that shatter-scatter sky image held indirect

as a gleam in eyes

as conscious lay in fabricated gardens watching memories, & desires in dream form

from across highway covered by

blue-white, 

yellow,

& orange lights

sound of tires, mufflers, sirens, 

amidst a higher sense 

attuned to

muffled far cries muffled while crossing empty lands

filled with chilling wind howls, stealing hope, 

which

kickstarts the power on survival mode..

ups& downs 

drown the cries further,

that

war, warn, or cheer..

or just sing..

maybe

a hymn made by souls for souls under same umbra to set free to lead to wonder & beauty beyond the surface of senses directly to free to seek love loss between me and me

buried beneath  road of longest journey to reach

turn feet all around

all about a world I have no idea about

just mad ideas about Kept in journals i turn over

to all but from in front of views not yet exploited by value of which is, views are power,  & are the will in word- to-page transaction

self diminished to substantiate

entries from entrails, not shown to be conquered

win or lose is how I never saw things.

win or win, only optionss, only progress..

yet..,always over complicating;

marathon sprints from start to finish

as I choose, If i choose, to continue to choose to overlook slopes in existence, where hides I, in ruins, digging for recognition

contribute to a mind overloading with what I know I owe society, &me,

burden of see-through beast, I see illusions of future thru,mistaken as truth, play victim, get stressed or believe I'm down on luck ,in dumps of depression and slum of beliefs,

 in a slump with headphones on temple and music up, reminisce about the golden olden, me and broseph, SSB, PSO, kanto, johto, cartoon cartoons, many one saturday morning’s, plenty cinnamon toast, fruity pebbles, so many card games at Books-a-million

but when I open eyes from trance

I'm forever face to face with today is today

not then not later...

just

 changes who changed how I changed regret and anger to compensate for blaming everybody but me

now I stare afraid at dilemmas mass effect decisions

 daily in-and-out-terventions

to keep from falling back into resentment.. spite blinding shelves of subconscious-self- disappointed perpetuating judgment of others binding progression, tying tongue, boiling blood because old habits die hard and I continue fucking up, up raging rapids w/o a paddle,   almost 3 decades of failing infinite (according to projections) feel I missed and am missing out on so much, so much world, so many words coiled inside, waiting to explode,

all the time, just like everybody.. everything mind sets sights on turns to target issue     how unfortunate for aforementioned coordinates, for anyone close enough for me to put in poems' , important enough to torment conscious over, used to be everybody, used to be nobody, used to be just some people, now its just me and i dont know him

   attempts to speak, to learn again, to teach me about me       to learn to teach                     myself, to set example for ambition directed toward a better version, better verses, better reimbursement of time given tryna be an extrovert, free from bitter, free from bitch asses, set internal standards to never  get fucked with again, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, i only fucks with a journal & question  everyone,  everything, every word, every whisper, shit ima tell my children every day, breakfast lunch dinner,  do your best and fuck the rest, get it, get lit off enlightenment, fuck rest, save roosting for death, dont look at me, looknat the sky, seize the day in everyway brain permits, dont reach for others' and if anyone tries to take yours, that means they dont fundamentally respect life, so always permeate passion, ignore distractions keeping you from creating, test limits, test intentions, challenge imperfections with wisdom, know that perfect is just cosmetics, but i remain quiet.. remain tied up being alone, wondering..           whether I'm right to do any god damn thing        'cause if I don't do it right..       was I right to think I could, wrong to think I understood

am i wrong not to try?

what of what's sacrificed ?

how do i keep count

how did I end up here       in standby...

standing squeamish & deer eyed in light of opportunities rising in horizon of night skies, to step in to obtain warmth, maintain from days before, to do something, do the one thing, but when will I be ready will eyes be ready to comprehend right or wrong

only me, here. only us, on planet.

only who's responsible? how is who is affected by, afflicted by? when is too late? when is just right, always too soon to tell and.. if I don't do it now, then why expect change..

why, why, why

'cause I expect anything at all

anger toward unmanned vehicles imminent to collide with mine

driven mad up eighty-five degree angled walls during rush hour, sun beaming heat into ride, where i travel on path, thru battlefield of past where fallen intentions decompose to ignorance and wisdom sprouts in the mean time.. I'm in between times, feelin down, down down down down by the way

a trail thru fears past dead ends, rotting trees, looks like fallout hit

a past I try an' forget..

but remember out of reluctance 

to accidentally revisit regret,

stand next to biggest fears,  see if facing them uproots soul

rolls ideas in head, non-stop

like trolls troll under bridges 

to which billy goat gruff temper charges like crono's katana on zenan crossing,

lodes of odes to oaths, lightning loaded, aimed at negative minded sapiens bioshocks via rhythm and syntax, cryo cascades of ideas, locked away in moleskine or computer files to put to rest the rest of an inside in arrest to judgment, in side quest of public playthrough, i feel im on public display, static complaining in front of pretty much strangers   modes of awareness to mental problems i exploit to people who might not think im crazy, who might like what i write, might like to write about the same thing, might see giants in those same nodes i stand near, i hear crisp crackles filling an awkward air as i stare at words on sheets that i might tear, might let collect dust, or share prolly might be quiet, only sound is poetic drafts that fill in under open windows, I open slowly, cool rush, goosebumps, awake aware always, even when mind is a crinkled, crumbled candy wrapper still just construct wrinkles in time via           hairs stand, ovation, and encores to

     helping to cross over doubts, screams of slander, stop it all, right now, shed truth in another light, fed through veins like pen's ink to go over and correct vision of pinheads vane turnin art, free thought to cash and competition, trade purpose blow for blow with obstacles in the name of the next step, over opponents, trade nervous for nerves robust to withstand standing up to stretch and spread chest to stand up for work where time invested is braided circulation    goin in circles,        time wasted pet peeve number 1

    a nowhere never felt before        but something seems familiar.. overlooked,   under yards, under pressure of bone leverage, give life a lift thru cracks of a collapsing effort stretched behind chest and ribs

a heart glows in

hot coal hues hearth warmth under carbon sheets

till blood boils till steam coils from pores to kill the cold along roads

sun or none

no light above, isn't lack of.. 

(look inside)

----

harsh heat of reality hot enough to feel cold

make me go ghost in dark times..

friction strong enough to spark moist..

continue until i sear nerves disembody fromm pain till im felt by meta-form of others

heartfelt arcs between soul and soul-mind 2 mind

light releases thru iris folds spectacle in spectacles----

spectrum wheel of emotions spins &spins to  understand self an urge that intensifies the more  i live life as well as I can Improve every day, no excuse, don't ignore the corners, get behind my ears,every nook and cranny in creative muse-um, uhm, duh, raised on books, nintendo, animation,& wishbone, outside, only myself as playdate, use every square inch as play-scape under every hair in head, a mind uses face and body as way to create 4 fourever& vice versa to escape who ever & know I can do whenever, wherever

wherever i go, a voice in mind goes

that keeps on talkin , keeps me talkin tellin me I've talk--, wrote enough hoped enough to last a lifetime, but that's not enough

and I still got a lifetime

to either solidify or fuck it up

gradually let go of 

to concentrate on life's finest moments i build to build form in appreciation, saying get up, enjoy the sun rays breaching clouds just before dawn; gett off yo butt and do what you know what you taught you to do when you were at multiple low points and you promised you, you'd never fall to end, even if you fall again, again, and again, never stall in the middle of  takeoff stop in middle of road, cant press play if you lost remote, might as well get up and do it, crawl, run or walk away when the times calls to brawl dark-inner energy only honorable mentions defend health during dishonorable discharge of nega, into rivers, into blue sky.. bordered by white clouds and linear silver

a safe place, work space, desk clerk sifting day to day thru file cabinets memories in memos in notebook; written relativity explaining how I see, what I think say what i want like im eight, glad i spent so much time with words and space-bars,   to escape judgment, hatred,

anxious surrounded by bad vibes

above an Earth, below expectations; over a self under surveillance by approval from inside, crazy dimensions, On the fence between people and myself I close eyes, ride waves of nostalgia once more..

see plenty light to traverse pathways, walk fer hours, walk like back in younger days, playin, runnin, completely captivated immersed in games played, tv, roller blades, monopoly, scary stories, trampolines

&10thousand songs later, 10million thoughts later, here I am doing what I made me to.

can't wait for the next chance

supplied energy through lines to hidden gracelands.

[daddygraves]

Inktober Day 16. Defiance

The latest upload of them all. But I had so much fun writing this, I love absorbing myself in the culture of international scenes. Hopefully I’ve portrayed Morocco with justice!

@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

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

The bombastic barrage of bullets relentlessly hails down upon two spies, splintering wood, cement chips and paint flakes an additional downpour as they charge around the corner of a Marrakesh market street.

Despite dusk having slipped away hours ago, the day's lingering heat remains trapped in the markets, clinging to stalls and the linen skirts of customers. But there is no time to stop and peruse the beautiful trinkets, or sample the exotic food in a florid melange of hues and colours.

"Galahad! Arthur! Take the next left!" Merlin orders, as the spies barrell through the crush of sweaty bodies in the rowdy market precinct, doing their best not to bowl over the precocious vendors that stepped into their path. Even as black-clad, masked men with semi-automatics thunder after them, paying no heed to the livelihoods they crush underfoot in their destructive path.

"Get down!"

Harry's hand shoves Eggsy's shoulder to the dirt-printed cobblestones as bullets cannonade into the spread of a spice stall, sending intense puffs of grainy powder into the air. Eggsy can taste the intermingling dust and flavour mixed with spit in his mouth. The spice merchant falls, blood blooming and gumming up the fine mounds of powder he so proudly sold.

Another shove from Harry sends Eggsy scrambling behind the next stall showcasing handwoven homewares, before the younger agent finds his feet, sprinting through the masses of bodies as the chorus of panicked screams and gunshots continue. A melee of limbs crawling, jumping, stepping, dragging, women shielding children with their backs, the elderly chivvied away by younger counterparts. A small stampede as Eggsy and Harry turn left, then right, then left again, dodging and weaving through intricately patterned rugs as Merlin barks down the comms link at them.

"Do not  retaliate, I repeat, do not. We dinna know which one of these fuckers has the explosives vest on him!"

"Only one way to find out," Harry says grimly, and abruptly changes direction, scooting up a narrow, grime-stained staircase, Eggsy hurrying after him. "What the f-" More bullets ping off the cement-rendered walls of Marrakesh as their pursuers give chase.

"Harry, the fuck are you doing?" Eggsy hollers, as they shove past frightened women who shrink back to the floor, eyes wide with fear behind their vibrant burqas. The elder man hops over a thick balcony railing,  and jumps to a nearby flat cement roof, and the newest Galahad is forced to follow suit.

"We'll be sitting ducks up here!" He bellows, looking to his partner with bewilderment and irritation, as Harry scans the murky sea of rooftops before them. Seeming to have made up his mind, the taller man sets off, nimbly springing to the next roof, of rusty corrugated iron.

"Just trust me, Eggsy," Harry calls as they bound from rooftop to roofstop, scrambling over parapets and edges, as shouts and more shots behind them indicate the terrorists are on their tail.

Another jump, and another, as bullets go whistling past their ears, swift invisible blots of death, and one thuds into the back of Eggsy's bulletproof bespoke. A purple medal of pain will blossom in its place, if they survive Moroccan terrorists to see tomorrow. Concrete, then iron, then more concrete, turning back to fire one shot, another, sweat dripping down his face in the glaring moonlight-

There's a crash ahead, and a curse, two bodies fall to Eggsy's pistol and then he turns around. Harry sprawled on the corrugated, moonlit roof of someone's home, a good portion of his calf wedged immovably within it, having crumbled underfoot. His missing eye had indubitably let him down when it came to securing safe footing. Shit.

"Harry get up, I'll hold them off!" Eggsy cries, even as the rain of bullets makes him retreat much further, past Harry, who, grunting, tries to dislodge his foot from the roof.

"It's no use, Eggsy. " There's defeat in Harry's tone, and it doesn't suit him. A cold trickle of what must be sweat runs down Eggsy's spine, as he takes out another terrorist, a bullet sending the bastard careening off the nearby parapet he stood on.

"No." The thought was unthinkable, even as it formed in Eggsy's brain, a tarry, black plague. "Don't you fucking say it-"

"Eggsy." Harry's tone is sharp, as the man twists uncomfortably to fire on the remaining terrorists himself, all of them dropping bar one. Who, realising both Harry and Eggsy's clips were empty, including his own semiautomatic, drops his gun. And pulls from his camouflaged military jacket a thin tube with a button on top, a feral smile cutting his repulsive face.

"Waqad ta'asasat dawlat al'islam, mae aljhad min 'uwlayik aldhyn wahabuu altaqwaa, matuu min ajl al'ilh mae taqrir..."

An iron fist of terror punches through Eggsy's chest. No, no, no -

"Eggsy you have to go." Harry calls, tone sharp, always so proper, even when faced with death. "Go to safehouse Lamp, and do not come back."

'No, no-"

"Leave only when Merlin tells you it is safe, once things have died down, Do you understand?" There's a blazing look on Harry's face, the noble prick, and Eggsy, horror-struck, can't look away.

"Fuck, off, Harry!" He immediately scrambles back in the elder spy's direction panickedly as the terrorist continues to advance, chanting. He's a lot closer to Harry than Eggsy is, and he boy immediately picks up pace, yelling a curse as part of the parapet he's able to step on crumbles away to the ground. Eggsy's sweaty fingers slip, and with a shout, he falls a few meteres, before clinging to the edge of the roof Harry is cemented into "I'm not leaving you-"

"Eggsy, leave." Another pseudo-impact to Eggsy's chest, knocking the wind out of him. "He's going to blow. Go, NOW!"

"ya 'awman alan nafrah shunq ealaa, alshams sutie mushinaan jamieaan maeaan liaintisar majid min rabin."  

Dirt crunches beneath the black-clad angel of death, as he clears the final rooftop, and is just metres from Harry. Who, as always, keeps a straight face, as his executioner approaches smugly, singing the final bloody verses of his hellish song. Eggsy pulls with all his might, trying to push himself up, onot the rooftop, to save Harry. He couldn't lose him, not again, no, no-"

"Eggsy! GO!" Merlin screams into the comms link, a background sound of terror, and Eggsy finds it. Find that extra thimble of strength, that golden glow of determination, adrenaline wrenching a guttural roar from his lips.

"Fuck you!"  

He bodily rolls himself onto that unstable, iron roof, and with a split second to spare, the terrorist looming over Harry, finger hovering on the trigger, jumps. Eggsy flykicks that motherfucker away from Harry, sending him spiralling off the roof , an earthshaking explosion slamming into both spies as the satanspawn detonates midair.

For a moment, they fall, and with another horrific crash, plummet into the centre of an unsuspecting Morrocan family's living room, landing with two solid thuds on the floor.

Groaning and clutching his ribs, a dust-showered Eggsy pushes the remains of the gobsmacked family's roof off him, creaking to his feet as his head rings. The comms link has disconnected, possibly from the force of the bomb. Fumbling in his suit pocket a little dazedly, he drops every dirham he has, which is more than enough, onto the dinner table, as the five children and frozen mother and father sit, immobile on their cushions.

"lisaqf jadidin. maedhira".

"I believe its pronounced 'my-deer-ha, not may-deer-ha, Eggsy." Harry, equally dust-bathed, comes to stand beside the younger agent, now freed from the confines of the roof. He gazes up at the sizeable hole in the ceiling. "That should be more than enough to cover it."

But two hands plant themselves on Harry's chest, and shove, making the taller man stumble back, eye widening in surprise at the site of an irate Eggsy, swelling with anger, no longer disorientated.

"Fuck you, Harry Hart!"

"I don't care that you're Arthur, I dont care I just directly disobeyed an order, I know what it means, I know Merlin'll crucify me, that I'm in deep shit when we get back."

"You're my partner, you gigantic dick." Eggsy's voice has a tiny waver in it, his eyes filling with tears of relief and frustration. "I love you. Now dont you dare ask me to leave you for dead ever again."

He pokes his finger hard into Harry's chest with those words. But Harry sweeps him into his arms, holding him tightly, murmuring words of apology. They share a dry, dust-flavoured kiss, but not for long. Before the Moroccan father, thunderstruck with fury, bald head aglow, comes to his senses. And plucking his antique scimitar from the wall, chases the two illegal homosexuals from his home with rigour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fun fact- homosexuality is illegal in Morocco. Hope my arabic translation was okish, please correct me if I’ve gotten anything inaccurate in this fic!

[lost-little-fawn]

String of poems on identity

2.) Identity.

I'm running out of words to write.

Because theyre basically all the same

And I'm tired and distracted

And I really just want to sleep but

The words keep coming. I'm

Something. I have to be. Once I said

"If someone asked me what I am id b

Pills found somewhere secret and

Turned to dust beneath small fingers"

But outwardly, i think I'm just lies

The lie that I can support anyone

(Including myself)

3.) Identity

Theres only so many metaphors

That match how I feel inside. I know

This assignment isnt looking for that language.

"Desperate, heady ache." "Cynic, half laugh,

Empty promises I never meant / desperate for attention"

"Sharpened teeth, rattling pill bottles"

"Full of empty calories, memories, blood > bite > cut

Bitter > empty > seethe/ a well of misplaced anger"

"I see myself as alien." "Empty, void of meaning,

Temporary" "I wear my emptiness like matter/

I wear my fear into the ground." "I feel intangible."

"I wish there were more days of the week

I allowed myself to be human/ parts of my personality

Feel scattered & distant" "I'm building a body out of this here shell/

She'll be functional and clean/ and dead inside / and mature"

"Shes not a fairytale damsel/ and shes not even real yet"

"I'm a sunken ship and / sharks slipping in &/ Waterlogged

foundations" "I'm a dead leaf echo/ a lo, I'm so low/

Indigo/ glass castle and shatter" "IM FRAGMENTED/ PUZZLE PIECES/

AND TRY TO FIT ME BACK TOGETHER/ PLEASE./ I DARE YOU."

"Why dont people see a spirit when they look at me?"

"Relatable and dry, wit. Nihilistic / logical. Rational."

"Autumn was always the season used to describe me/

Dead leaves. Cold, but not cold enough / f.a.l.l.i.n.g /

(Crumble, dry, decay, death.)/ doesnt my hair fanned out look

Like a halo?/ like antlers? Like something, anything still pure?"

"I am dull, empty, fragile.../ the lines between your

Shoulderblades" "like falling into a pit of soft bedding/

That you cant crawl out of./ dont want to crawl out of"

"Tortoise veins and frog heart./ sluggish, excitable, amphibian/

I am a chameleon of wanting things I cannot have/

"ITS HARD TO FIND THE PARTS/ THAT MAKE ME REAL/

WHEN MY BRAIN CANT/ SEE ANYTHING BUT SAD"

"I'm scared of my mental illness destroying me/

scared of it not being bad at all" "remind yourself there's still

Something in your chest beating/ even if it's just mechanical"

"An omnipotent heavy feeling of fear." "Shadow lined and/

Condensed down to near obsessive compulsive filled/ lines of

Script with every letter double checked." "My body is a motel/

And I am checking out, eventually." "I am dated, antique, haunted"

5.) Identity

The words most used: alien, empty, sad

Alien: noun

Someone who does not belong

Someone who wears disaster on their sleeve

And demands constant attention

Empty: adjective

Containing nothing, not filled or occupied

Like my missing sense of self. Like

My thought patterns. Meaningless.

Sad: adjective.

Feeling or showing sorrow, unhappy

I guess it stands to reason I can't feel happy

Until I've found a place to belong and

Filled all the empty spaces.