#stream of conscience

[booshoos]

missed train.

i missed the train today because i was daydreaming about you—not in some grand, cinematic way where the world slows down and soft music plays, but in the quiet, ordinary way where my eyes glaze past the crowds and land on nothing, lost somewhere between yesterday and all the things i never said. i kept replaying our conversations, the way your words slipped into the spaces between mine, how your voice lingered longer than it should’ve.

i thought about the brief brush of our arms, the almost-touch that felt louder than anything else. i thought about stolen glances, the kind i’d quickly blush away, heart racing like i’d been caught. did you notice? i thought about our goodbye, how i should’ve held on a little longer, let the silence stretch—just enough to feel the weight of it.

the doors closed, the train pulled away, and i didn’t even notice—because somehow, thinking of you felt like the only place i needed to be.

[riverofinkofficial]

We are plants.

We need water,

the sun and air,

room to grow and be rooted.

And sometimes we need to be re-potted.

We experience droughts

and bugs wriggling into our space.

The sun gets blocked out

so we curl into ourselves.

Open the windows.

Water yourself. Water each other.

Give yourself the time and space to branch out.

Give others the same.

We are all plants.

Let's grow together

to become a happy jungle.

[afteritwasred]

Portrait of a Preacher's Mad Daughter:

There is nothing of her in you When you care to admit it, come find me You would rather be the child born Of a conscious sinner, a damned heathen With the claw marks running down her back Rather than the one who gave them to her. Not that it makes her a saint, no- Those are ordained, dipped in holy waters And she's still stained coppery along her cheeks Hurt from the smiles She put on to fool you into walking The thin white line between her jaws No, she is not one the Church call theirs. No, a barbaric religion is no wiser than one With stone in their walls And stained glass hearts. But you kneel before Any death-soaked cross that would take you If it told you it would suffer your moods You would take the beatings Because you can smile with broken teeth And you look prettiest head bowed anyway. And if it lies, well, what is a lie to a God? What is a sin to a saint? Who are you to those who made you? His eyes are not yours. There is a light present in him And that light is seen in you But blue and brown and green and gold Don't make a difference Colours can skip generations And you may have her hair But you have his hands And they were not made to pray peacefully. The gospel is spat between crooked teeth There is blood running between each letter But I only know two of the words: Amen And Father. The end and my beginning A circle that swallows itself Infinitum.

A plague of Fathers and Mothers Assembled to fill the gaps We never wanted to admit we had And the smoking, the drinking, Nothing else worked. Become numb and pray it all away. Let it drift Let it die You are your fathers daughter You are Eve and you take a bite Of all they ever denied you You are Adam in his eternal trust Taking the apple from loving fingers You are the snake from Eden You are the God that damned them You are all of us and you wear it well You are your fathers daughter.

We cannot escape the blessings of those Who raised us.

[gabberteeth]

the amount may be off a bit if enough last minute donations get in but GOD DAMMIT its FINE because that's still an INCREDIBLE AMOUNT nonetheless!!!! amazing work to both chat n the vinesauce crew!!! <3

[theview-from-halfwaydown]

“and now i’m 22

without any clue

of what to do

with myself or my life

static in my mind

memories i can’t unwind

i’m always running out of time

because i’m stuck in a bind

having trouble trying to define

how to get my mind and my body to finally align

i’m sick and tired of always having to find

my sanity down under

deep within the ground

lost in the wonder

praying i don’t drown

quietly alone

yet never on my own

what am i supposed to do

with all these aches in my bones

i ache

i ache

i ache

and i don’t know what to do with all this physical pain

because it’s bursting through my body and i’m about to break

so i take

and i take

and i take

and i pray that my mind is not at stake

because i’m pacing around my room each day

trying hard not to make any mistakes

but im tired

god, i’m so tired

of having this storm in my chest that i can never shake

so i allow the dark clouds to consume my brain

let the rain swallow me whole so i can no longer entertain

any nihilistic idea that brings comfort to the pain

because i don’t want to be angry or to find peace in the mundane

i’ve been painted red by my mother and blue by my father

and their colors mixed together to create a violent color

an electrifying being who pierces her lovers

then cries over what she did under her covers

because she can never understand that maybe she does actually suffer

and putting others before her shouldn’t be above her

so why is it so hard for me to self discover?”

[thekatkoproject]

An Introduction to Katko.

I’m a normal person, not an artist. 

My favourite season is fall.

I love my dog more than anything else. 

I would kill for a latte with oat milk. 

My eye twitches when I talk to someone I disagree with.

I don’t defend myself when that someone disagrees with me. 

I love the rain. 

I love being edgy and breaking lines when writing simple sentences. 

I’m still unsure if rose quartz has magical powers.

I still keep a note in my wallet, hoping money would appear in my pocket. 

and I don’t know what my purpose is. definitely not. 

All I know is that I’m alive to make art, and making art keeps me alive. 

All I know is that the most normal person could make beautiful things, if they put their mind to it.

Katko emerged from the author’s craving to make something. To pull poetry out of my heart.

But to whoever’s still reading:

do whatever you want, even if you are the most normal person to do it.

Created by Katko

[justalitlecreacher]

I'm so mad that it was the fake Donna that The Doctor had that talk with about where he had been and where he came from. This Doctor has been so much more open a vulnerable than any Doctor before him ("King of Okay" Eleven), and this scene in particular was the most vulnerable I can remember seeing the Doctor with one of their companions

(and a scene I was really hoping for in Thirteen's run what with all that has happened)

And then The Doctor is convinced that this is Donna and he goes for the hug but it's not Donna and it's so beautifully done and so beautifully acted and it's such a gorgeous scene and I'm so in love with it but I'm so mad for the sake of The Doctor that he didn't get to have that moment or that hug

[boardthatsinkingship]

IMMMMMMMMM SCREAMKNNNNNDJDHDJSJSJJDBDHSNSJDHDHDJJDNDNDJDHDHSJKAKAKSJDFJJEHRUEUEDHJWKWJSKWKADHUSKAWKHEISKANSDHUSHDHSHSHSHUDWHJWKSISKQKWOWOAOZJSJJSKWKWOSKALWIEUDUDJJEDJJWJWOQLALALLlchufjshxhshwhzhdjnwkajzjdSKQKQKQKAKAKSddbdndjdjdhxhzjmamaixismwsmkskxkxjcjsksmsjendndnnd

Thorne with zero shame: “I’ve been waiting for you to admit that you wanted my body. Be my guest.”

[sonus-aurum]

Finding peace after the loss

Nights spent crocheting alone are an opportunity to listen to music when you're not on the road

Internet friends are realer than real life friends when the latter doesn't give you an invite

Adult friends are better than college friends when you became an adult many years before them

There's no need to ask questions if you know the answer is no

There's no anxiety when you get a text if you know it's filled with love

You don't need to use every color in the box if they don't look right together

There's no more soreness in my arms from holding together what's already gone

[booshoos]

do i regret you now?

a friend asked me the other day if i ever felt like i wasted my youth trying to force together two poles of the same magnetic pull— always pushing, always resisting

i paused, watching cars blur past the window here then gone, swallowed by the rush

regret weighs heavy, they say— but what do you call the ache of recalling something so beautiful that left you in shards

no i settled, let it be

for i wouldn't know this quiet joy if i hadn’t met you

i let the wind tangle in my hair felt the bass pulse beneath my feet and knew some things don’t last yet they still matter

[riverofinkofficial]

Sometimes you need a good coat

and a weird hat

to shapeshifter into some other creature

that exists deep within you

to make peace with the creature you allow yourself to show.

[indigosartroom]

The fear in my stomach is not that I will quit art is that the art I make I won't love or adore the same way others do. I see so many fantastic artists with work that always blows me away and I want to be able to work to achieve that level of skill but I feel stuck, I feel unwilling to truly allow the artist in me out.

The artist in me desires to make tattoo flash designs and illustrations, silly ones, cool ones and just some that exist. I have starved her for so long that meer act of looking at gorgeous art she consumes all of it in an instant whole just to learn and understand everything about it. Our knowledge is greater than our skill and we are afraid our skill will never meet our depth of knowledge.

I guess what we are trying to say is our greatest when we view others art is that we'll never have the same love and admiration for the artistic process other artists do.

[gerberbabyactionfilm]

thinking very thoroughly,,,

i feel so much all the time. i can feel my swollen heart; red and oozing, bruised with flecks of watercolor pain. there’s a deep deep strain in the furthest part of my soul and sometimes it aches so bad i can taste it. my wanting has tied the string around the loose tooth that is my heart to a door handle. she is slamming the door over and over and over to try to yank it out.

there is something so cruel about the desire to be known. to have a thumb pressed into your cheekbone, to experience the squeeze of a palm, the ability to produce a bubbled laugh made out of Recognition of your behaviors. a “this reminded me of you.” the uncanny ability to leave a mark, to be so ingrained into another’s soul that you own stock in who they have become.

i want to know someone. i want to know someone so deeply that i could complete a paper maze of their brain with an orange crayon. i want to have seen someone so many times that the color of their eyes have been burned into my own. i want someone to be a scar on my body. i want to have a person that i see in everything. i want their face so deeply committed to memory that i can find their features in patterns in glazed tile on the walls. i want to know every blemish, bump, and break on their skin as if it were on my own.

i want to believe in the north star. i want you to be my north star.

[theview-from-halfwaydown]

“i was diagnosed with ptsd today

i know i should feel relief

but all i feel is heavy

like it’s weighing me down more

i don’t know how it happened

or maybe i do

but i’m not too sure if anything is real or not anymore

my life is a movie and i’m watching the film burn up on the projector screen

floating through a ghost town

a spectator of my own life

how cruel

how unbearably cruel it is to have this placed upon me when i didn’t ask for any of it to happen

i cant find love because of you

you ruined me and everything i had to give

i fear getting close to anyone

i don’t know what they could do to me

i don’t know what they’re capable of

i don’t know how to carry this weight

this grief of what happened to me

the worst part is

i don’t even know what happened to me to have caused this”

[brettesims]

🌼 Be Here Now

“Drink wine

This is life eternal

This all that youth will give to you

It is the season for wine, roses, and drunken friends

Be happy for this moment

This moment is your life”

~ by Unknown

[the-trillium-entries]