23, they/she, bi-alterous or something, disabled, neurology/psych student, wannabe creator and discoverer
i was mostly playing around with differnt tattoo ideas
[8:35 PM]i really want a japanese style fish tattoo, with some blackberries and lilly of the valley around it
[8:35 PM]but i drew some other flowers too
[8:36 PM]i wont get thsi as a tattoo adskfadkfjnh i dont like it that much but it was good practise
Your essence has instilled in me a prickling, cackling coo
Beneath my skin is where you live I want to be there too
So I will cross my eyes until I'm seeing inside-out
There I will find you in my brain, not wanting to get out
Or I might take a sample of my blood and come to find
That you've invaded every cell just as you have my mind
Perhaps instead I'll open up my chest and check my flame
Only to see that you have claimed my heart and signed your name
You're within and fixing me, repairing every seam,
and tonight when I am slumbering, I'll see you in my dreams
I found the box in the forest. Deep into the trees, where the rustling grows hostile. It sat atop a rock, as though the rock was an altar, as though the box was an offering. Or a god. Imperfectly carved, with shifting patterns and - a pulse. I had to take it.
It sits now, under the floorboards. The presence of it is so enormous I wonder no one else has heard its hum.
Sometimes I open it to find nothing. I breathe relief and disappointment.
Sometimes I open it to find a void, less than nothing, an emptiness so complete it reaches for you with desperate fingers and claws the oxygen from your lungs.
Sometimes I open it to find a scream, wordless and soundless, but a cry so apocalytpic, that I have to force the lid closed with splintered fingers. I won’t open it again. I always do.
Sometimes I open it to find the gentlest light, a flicker of candle warmth which envelops me and whispers so tenderly of home.
Sometimes I open it to find my reflection, and I can’t look.