#custom poetry

[the-cat-demon]

the real me is  an alien, nameless, inexplicable concept of a thing that does not operate on human terms, does not think with human thoughts the real me is a blank slate the me you see is a stolen face with stolen thoughts carefully crafted from my favourite parts of humanity the me you see is a character to play i stole every part of me  and built myself out of the gold in everyone else’s pans i took my favourite traits from others  and i built myself a patchwork personality of stolen gold i was always a blank slate, so i made myself a glowing golden patchwork god to play as method acting, so thorough that i have slowly become the character i play the blank slate, painted over with the stolen gold i am a fictional character, and that’s fine with me i am the patchwork god, made of stolen gold

lol can you tell i have autism

[woundgallery]

Linnea, i feel sick rn because of an unrequited love :( why do we have to suffer so much

The Shepherd in Love

The shepherd in love lost his staff And the sheep scattered all over the slope, And so much was he lost in thoughts, he didn’t even play the flute. No one showed up or disappeared. He never found the staff. Others cursing him, rounded up the sheep for him. He at the end had no love at all. When he rose up from the slopes and from the false truth, he saw everything: The grand valleys full of the same ever greens The far off grand mountains, more real than any feeling, All the reality, with the existing sky, the air, the fields, Are present. (And again the air that he lacked for so long, entered fresh into his lungs) And he felt the air opened again, with much pain, A freedom In his chest.

Fernando Pessoa as Alberto Caeiro 10 July 1930

[danalockhart411]

I'm fine.

[lifeinpoetry]

No crueler word than return. No greater lie.

The gates may open but to return. More gates were built inside.

— Solmaz Sharif, from “Without Which,” Customs: Poems

[jcookedotme]

A self portrait of sorts..

[choijesoo]

Taking art trades and requests! Send to my ask box or send me a message! I'll draw nature scenes, OCs, fan art, or can write you a poem!

I also transcribe songs on the kalimba if you need help with that! And take fandom requests for fic recs, if you're in need of some and I'm familiar with the fandom!

[sims-with-soul]

A romantic night in 👀🍷✨

Spaghetti, fresh bread, jazz & some wine aka, liquid courage.. ❤️‍🔥

[sailoreuterpe]

life sucks and then you die

seems just about right

every step forward, another step back

and always fight or flight

as soon as one crisis ends

another finds you free

to worry and weep and sigh

there's always stress to be

hope for the best, expect the worst

our motto and our creed

I'm just so fucking tired of "worst"

I just want to be freed

from constant sorrow and pain

when will my ship come in?

I'm just so fucking tired

life sucks, you die--the end

[yurious-george]

I was never meant to have a side hustle where I do one thing consistently. I was meant to be the type of person you give $60 to and a creative project of any type and i do it within the week

[mediaheights]

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[cheese-elite]

Feelings I've experienced this year that are hard to define:

- Getting on an airplane with a cold and then getting off to find that everything sounds like it's underwater for a few days. Every morning you wake up and try to guess if that's how the house always sounded or if your hearing is still messed up. (Did my shower always sound this distant?)

- Going on an awkward first date with a girl you've liked for a while to find that she's not quite like you imagined. When she says she has to go and leaves you in the empty theater you kind of run over the situation in your mind all day. Walking out of the movie theater alone is very different than walking into the movie theater alone. Feels like a liminal space.

- Going to a funeral for someone you only knew briefly and learning so much more about them from their eulogies than you ever knew while talking in person.

- Losing interest in a hobby that you've enjoyed for several years and trying to mend the empty, hauntingly nostalgic hole that's left behind. You don't particularly dislike the thing, but you can't enjoy it the same way anymore. It feels a bit like a strange half breakup.

- Noticing that people tend to hold the door for you outside of high school. Maybe it's just because I've been a wallflower at school for so long, but it feels strange and almost awkward to be acknowledged when I'm just running errands. People were so rude back in high school, but now they're turning their heads to smile at me and asking how my day's been at the checkout counter. I don't know how to feel about all this.

[lifeinpoetry]

Have you looked yourself in the mirror and found the blessed halo of a ring light in each iris? Have you been content enough being this content?

— Solmaz Sharif, from “Self-Care,” Customs: Poems

[jcookedotme]

[solarioose]

Pinterest challenge

Open Pinterest and post the first 4 pictures you find. ✨

Day 4