#rambling poem

[visgrapplinghooks]

Painted Green

Musings On Transient Beauty

The walls are painted green: A very light green, Reminiscent of the hue of a tomatillo.

They damage so easily: Marks accumulated over months of abuse, Marred by stains and scuffs and water.

And I often wonder: Why the fuck would you paint your walls light green? It doesn't make any sense!

Why make something beautiful only for its beauty to fade?

I crave a beauty built to last, Something that will never fade, Persisting past my own fading.

And I often wonder: Is there something I'm not seeing? Where's beauty when it's fleeting?

But transience doesn't mean things have to entropy so quickly.

A beauty built to last won't last forever, But it sure as hell will last longer than these walls painted green.

[unnamednemesis]

I am not real,

I am an illusory echo, screaming into the void

and watching what bounces back.

Hoping to see something new wash ashore.

The dying echoes and death throes

of a fallen angel

reborn as a rising ape

sailing alone against the steady march of entropy

and death

with a new dawn on the horizon.

[spocksgotemotions]

Look I just think that if you’ve ever loved Star Trek, Like really loved it (not just had a passing interest or casually consumed it) then it’s gonna be a part of you forever. It injects a little whimsy in you. A little thoughtfulness and curiosity and wonder. I’ll watch Star Trek and every time I do I feel like a little kid staring up at the stars holding onto the grass. I’ll watch Star Trek and every time I’m sitting out sharing a sweater with my friend as we talk about Spock and the sun starts to set. I’ll watch Star Trek and it’s the same feeling of calm awe that I get when I sit in the aquarium.

Aliens aside it’s about humanity. It’s always about humanity and trying to understand despite it all (which I think is a core tenet of humanity). And if that compels you then it’s going to stay with you. No matter if the packaging is a bit silly. Maybe even because the packaging is silly.

Also once you love Spock I don’t think you can stop

[foldingfittedsheets]

One sunny day when I was in high school I was walking home alone. The sun was shining, gentle wind rustled the treetops. I was just starting to be able to see that beauty again. I had been depressed for a long time, but that mundane walk home felt magical to me.

On the sidewalk I saw something unusual. I was in love with life in that moment and fascinated to know more. I crouched down to observe and saw the most enchanting bug. I’d never seen anything like it. To this day I can’t remember what it looked like, only that it was as beautiful as the sun shining on the green world below.

My attention was rapt on this tiny magical creature living in such a massive and wondrous world, wondering what it was and marveling that I’d never seen anything like it.

I didn’t hear the girls come up behind me on the sidewalk. But suddenly there was a leg beside me. I wasn’t embarrassed to be caught looking at a bug. I was glad someone else might come observe this tiny wonder with me.

Her foot shot up and stomped down abruptly, crushing the object of my interest. I looked up at her.

I didn’t know either of the girls standing above me. They had seen a stranger and decided to punish her for behaving in a way they considered unacceptable. I looked up at the face of the girl who had killed my bug, trying to understand her thoughtless malice.

I think she had expected me to be upset or visibly shaken by her destruction. When I stared unblinkingly up at her she seemed to feel a brief moment of shame, shifting uneasily.

Then she and her friend turned and walked away without a word spoken.

[musings-n-museums]

i miss you so much (i forget why)

clips of all too well: the short film directed by taylor swift \\ scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo \\ anything (demo) by dodie \\ post by @inanotherunivrse \\ tiktok comments by harashsidhu and ashmanathletics \\ tonight i can write by pablo neruda \\ the glass essay by anne carson \\ i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams

[asoftepiloguemylove]

BUT WHO COULD LOVE ME? I AM OUT OF MY MIND // IVAN & TILL

pinterest // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Anne Sexton Complete Poems of Anne Sexton, "The Papa and Mama Dance" // Fall Out Boy Hum Hallelujah // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Ernest Hemingway The Garden of Eden // Florence + the Machine Grace // Elliot Wake Black Iris // The National Daughters of the Soho Riots // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Mitski I Guess // Adam Silvera They Both Die at the End // Lorde Writer in the Dark // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Margaret Atwood Cat's Eye // Chris Abani Dog Woman // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Warsan Shire Souvenir, "Our Men Do Not Belong to Us" // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Louise Glück Faithful and Virtuous Night

[loverboybreakdowns]

transness as transformation idk

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I had a thought for the fantasy au! So on one of the previous versions of the WH website, there was a rhyme for the show that went:

A house is a place with four walls and a floor,

with a ceiling above and a lovely front door.

There's a bed to cradle you safely at night,

and windows to bring in the morning sunlight.

Your house is a mirror of just who you are,

A reflection that tells you to never stray far.

Which I thought might make a good incantation for when Wally properly summons Home (I can't remember if that's ever required for Warlocks but hey, it's still a fun poem regardless).

ohhhh this. i like this...

bonus og sketch! big ol eyes...

& no capalet because uhhhh eh nah and also i wanted Home's pendant to be on full display!

[secondbeatsongs]

1. Your father argued with your mother.

2. Your mother argued with your brother

3. Your brother argued with your father.

4. It was almost always cold.

5. That is all you remember.

"Nineteen eighty-something" from Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra

[chronicowboy]

do u guys know the poem about the butch strip club?

[icara-mack]

happy 25th birthday techno, not a day goes by where the world doesn’t miss you. o7 rest in power

I’ve heard of a sky with a thousand suns

Just beyond a veil.

I’m told the wonder’s beyond reproach

And our world - but a mirror - seems pale.

You left to see those thousand suns

That cast the heaven’s light.

There are no shadows in that world, just endless sunlit skies.

So when my star grows old and pale

And burns out like a lamp

I’ll join you in that land of suns and see you once again.

Here are the closeups, tumblr did in fact eat the original lmao

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[phoen1xr0se]

The thing is.

The thing is...

You're a walking love letter, and you don't even realise it.

You go about your day and do your thing, walking around bringing tiny rays of sunshine into the lives of everyone you touch, from the pats on your dog's head to the smile you give so freely to strangers, the texts you send checking in on everyone and the in jokes you never seem to forget. You breathe life into every room you walk into, you pour love like it's endless into every interaction, you are so terrifyingly fearless in your warmth and softness and it's only because I've been allowed to bathe in that light for so long that the darkness hasn't taken me over completely.

The world narrows to a pinpoint when you pull me into your arms and you hum contentedly and tell me that I smell like me (what does that even mean?), my pathetic and withered heart remembering how to beat when you send me my favourite flowers (I told you what they were 20 years ago; you've never forgotten), my sense of self hanging on by the single thread that is the way your eyes filled with unshed tears in that restaurant when I told you that deep down I know I am wrong, and rotten, and ruin everything I touch - and that is why I don't touch.

The worst bit is that you don't know. You don't know that you're every thought, you're everything, every damn song I ever sing, every line I've ever written, every hitch of my breath and stutter of my heart, it's you, it's you, its you.

I wish you knew the light that you are, not just for me but for literally everyone who knows you. And I wish you knew that I see the burden being that light is, I see how you struggle to keep smiling when you don't want to, and I wish you knew I'd take that from you if I could, I'd take some of it, let you rest. I always offer, let me know if I can help at all, again and again, but you smile (and I am pierced by the sun) and say I'm fine.

Our love is stuffed in between the lies we tell, I suppose. Shoved in cotton white strips and doused in red and hidden between what we say and what we mean.

People ask me, often, where I get the inspiration for what I write, how I can possibly articulate the longing and pathos of a 6000 year love.

The answer to that, as to everything, is you.

And I wish you knew.

[red-might-be-dead]

vyncent sol blog simulator

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

q

7 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

hi guys its me, william, i made vynce a tumblr account so he can see my poems. wisp out. 🥀

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged

vyncent said he wanted to do the username though that wasnt me 🥀

1 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Foudn uyo.

197,678 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged

liked by dakotaiscoming

🥀 wispoet69 follow

poem #16627 - wolves again

~𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓯𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮~

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Huh

3 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

q

12 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Aoes anoyne knwo how to fxi this.

#Accident

4 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

#Another one.

423 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged awesome-tide-epic-dad

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Yuo ever thinj about murder

🥊 dakotaiscoming follow

thats wrong vyncent 😢

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Tehy shoufl make murder elgal

🌊 awesome-tide-epic-dad follow

No.

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

for me

124 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

q

1,290 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged ashenimal-crossing-fan3

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

hi again! its me, william, i took vyncent's phone off of him while he was sleeping, wanna ask me anything? 🥀

📖 ashenimal-crossing-fan3 follow

[wanna talk about boys voice] is vyncent sleeping next to you 😳right 😳now 😳 omg are you stroking 😳 his 😳 hair 😳 and playing 😳 with 😳 his 😳 fingers 😳

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

no more questions. wisp out. 🥀

13,390 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

fyck not agina.

3 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged ashenimal-crossing-fan3

📖 ashenimal-crossing-fan3 follow

i finally got that dumb fucking cat on my island. im not letting him leave. ever.

youre mine. raymond.

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Who

📖 ashenimal-crossing-fan3 follow

oh, to be as ignorant as you, you sweet summer child....

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Huh

12,430 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

Gto a new knife.

#Coolest

12 notes

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow reblogged wispoet69

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

q

🥀 wispoet69 follow

why do you keep posting the letter q? 🥀

🗡️ vnycnyet224 follow

q

2,054,630 notes

[yonemurishiroku]

Absolutely love how despite Rick killing off Jason Grace, we still refuse to let him die.