they/them -I pay no attention to the world ending. It had ended many times for me and began again this morning
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The fact that the only post that made 2k notes on my account is on Ao3 feels like I won and lost at the same time. The badge of gooner :(
#I promise I write meaningful fanfics#what the f people#I wake up to +99 notifications and turns out it’s just you people#PLEASE IM A STAR#writing#poetry#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writeblr#poets on tumblr#writblr#writerscommunity#creative writing#ao3
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What distasteful disdain, what a waste of beauty
For the returning tide to never leave more than a light kiss ashore
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Unedited Growing tired wings
The original looked like this
don't ask about the order it made sense in my head, the original titles were "growing tired, growing and growing wings"
#writing#poetry#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writeblr#poets on tumblr#writblr#writerscommunity#creative writing#contrapuntal poem#contrapuntal poetry
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Growing tired wings
I found another form of contrapuntal poetry !! the poem isn't that good but I loved the process
#behold ! another poem about running away !!#poetry#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writeblr#poets on tumblr#writblr#writerscommunity#creative writing#writing#contrapuntal poem#contrapuntal poetry#concept art
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I won't be going to heaven. First of all because I don't think They want me there. Second of all because I don't think death will purify me. When i leave my mortal coil, when i leave my beaten carcass, lose the feeling of my eyelashes brushing against my cheeks, i will still have a soul made of flesh. It will have bones sticking out and weep a little with lymphatic fluid. It will be ugly and cracked and sprained and it will pulse with spite and love like a malformed artery. I won't ascend to whatever state of immortality there is beyond life for they say that once you die you forget all the people you've loved in your life so you don't feel bad about them not being here with you. So you don't miss the ones who couldn't be saved by the Christ.
And it's funny
Even the mightiest Ophan could not pry the memory of you
out of me.
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Extract from my play (draft)
DAGNA : I have known – I believe I have known, since I was your child – that nothing would ever reach you. That you would remain this colossus, overpowering all of the miserable souls who dared to cross paths with you, mine included. You’d remain, to me, a monument that would not fall to pieces, that time would conceal in a stupendous condition. “You were the measure of all things” as Kafka would say; everything made sense because you were always the one naming void. I could’ve considered you as God, Lord and shepherd. Only if Grandma allowed me to, if the portrait of John Paul would not stare at me, and if the matryoshkas did not do so too; all of them, little mouths but piercing eyes. You would have been my demiurge, avatar of my numen. And you were, for so long until you let me enter my home again. As I crept in the hall of your house, warily advanced up the stairs, cautiously glanced at my bedroom – now an improvised gym, if the memories do not fail me – and saw my mother by the doorframe of your own. That night I grew small, small, small, small, small and ever so small. That night, I may have grown so small I was his daughter again. Yet, I knew my impetus exceeded my own body and the transformation it went under. Your potency awoke my own force and in a mirror I could have recognized Oedipus and his own mother. The empire that Thebes consists in tumbled on the tragedy of us, but that I have already apprised you (address to audience). Marvellous parricide on his father, marvellous parricide on my father that could have been his retribution, my act of retaliation and this restitution could have brought reparation. All a great irony when your figure lingers beyond comeuppance, my unpremeditated pursuance served no jurisprudence; only a great impudence.
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I wrote this when I was drunk
What is this echo I crave ?
My hunger
So full of bile, up my throat
A stab in my hip, and i sleep.
I dream of fear,
it is cloaked, crooked as the clock ticks and every quarter cries
the joints in my fingers scream
the cartilage is rusting
Still I snap them open one last time to grab at the sky
dig my nails and drink in its treacherous rye
I am dangling from God's feet
his eyebrow with annoyance knit
and i tell him
fuck you.
#This very fine line between a good poem and absolute nonsense#It's so bad it became kind of good#like it came full circle#writing#poetry#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writeblr#poets on tumblr#writblr#writerscommunity#creative writing
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11th
i miss the eleventh. That's it. That's the post. Bring back my autistic, fez-loving, awkard moving guy
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AO3 IS BACK

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Yes, ao3 dying in our arms on this terrible evening is catastrophic but i think it's hilarious how 20k people just log into tumblr to share their sorrows. Like little orphans at a shelter
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Ao3 down
Everytime ao3 is down, an angel (me) loses their wings (is forced to be productive)
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Anyone else with this feeling of dread and impending doom ? nah ? Aight.
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If you're mad about the new regeneration of the doctor you did not understand SHIT about Capaldi's role and Donna's impact on the 10th. Like just say you're stupid at this point. The doctor takes the face of a lesson he needs, always has. Billie Piper has proven times and times again that she was more than just Rose, she was Bad Wolf and she was the bomb on Gallifrey and she was everything human about the doctor she was never just "10th girlfriend". Like just say you're undercooked and you see everything through heteronormative lenses and sexist mindset it's fine.
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Imagine being inherently sad lol. like oooooo i'm alive and aware and my heart aches at everything because of its beauty and ephemeral nature ooooooo
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let's go to the beach (beach) let's go get a wave
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Kinda fucked up how the last weeks of high school are so full of joy and grief and stress over exams and restrained affection for your teacher and relief you won't have another PE class and knowledge you will miss the warmth of the table when the sun hits and the slow afternoons hearing about Shakespeare and pure elation you won't talk to this horrible philosophy teacher ever again lest you throw fists and sadness you can't say "you saved my life, i love you" because school rules but also promising you'll return soon as an outsider when you know your life will be too busy to look back. You'll be taken by the rapids and drowned in new breath and you will never be the same and it's a relief because it was the worst experience of your life but it was you. It was yours.
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