#Spilled bullshit

[big-low-t]

Cast Off

.

Bubble in the level is off

My light is dusty

Fly my own flag

But the pole is rusty

.

Traversing far from the beaten path

But stuck in briars and out of gas

.

Be yourself and stay true to you

Don't follow the latest trend

But what do I get for being me?

The lonely life of one condemned

.

[lonelyzuul]

On her lunch break she raises the dead

But it can’t compete with the precedent

Of how she can’t afford her current residence

Goal post moved on value, to call her magic opulence

Denial is freighter on a river to hegemony

At the stage where we can’t identify enemies

And still you say we’re not in an unreasonable reality ?

Why can’t you see, what I see?

[asoftepiloguemylove]

I AM NOT BEAUTIFUL BUT I COULD BE

Chen Chen Poplar Street // pinterest // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Janet Fitch // Taylor Swift seven // @girltwinkabigail // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Mitski Class of 2013 // Taylor Swift You're On Your Own, Kid // Margaret Atwood Selected Poems: 1965-1975 (via @freshberries) // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Salman Rushdie East, West // Emily Palermo // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Desireé Dallagiacomo Sink

[the-muppet-joker]

I wish I was a fashion dog from Dogz Fashion on the Gameboy Advance. NOT IN A FURRY OR THERIAN WAY. In an intellectual and supremely deep and poetic way that the Tumblrinas would never understand........

[shittyartestries]

you left the door cracked as if you might come back

i don’t know how to stop waiting for you

-

[tennessoui]

ok this is so self-indulgent that yall are gonna run me off my blog but

au where obi-wan hosts fancy wine&dinner parties, as he’s a renowned chef and retired sommelier (wine expert). the theme of this party is for everyone to bring a bottle of wine and a food that they think will pair well with the tasting notes in their chosen wine, and be prepared to explain their choices to the rest of the dinner-goers.

when anakin (invited by padmé, currently in grad school, easily the youngest and dirtiest person to have ever sat on obi-wan’s nice leather settee) shows up with a bottle of wine that still has the price tag on it ($13 for a “maker’s red mix”) and a bag of flaming hot cheetos, obi-wan knows they’re absolutely going to have hate sex about it

then anakin gets up for his turn to explain his choice and he bullshits so fantastically well, using all the words he just heard these upper class bougie snobs say and using them correctly, that obi-wan is genuinely actually impressed.

oh they’re still going to have hate sex, 100%, but now obi-wan respects the man enough to make him breakfast in the morning

(it’s eggs benedict florentine with house-made hollandaise sauce and freshly baked english muffins obi-wan got up early to bake, and halfway through poaching the final egg he looks over and anakin is leaning against his counter, eating granola by the handful out of the bag as he watches)

[tritemagicalsatire]

Always in the writing scene when the author themselves are drunk from the euphoria of having their words imprinted on a paper or screen. But the need of having their draft scanned over and over again for the final product is the real struggle here. The struggle to put one's words into something comprehensible, even to themselves FIRST, as its first audience of an intellectual freakshow—

Ah... The rules of the grammarian culture without sacrificing the childlike playing of random alphabet blabbering. And one's personal standard of literary utopia is waving, all after the random soliloquies whispering in one's mind as if they are asleep while writing/typing the words needed for the wordscapes recipe of an individual aspiration for having their illusions to be something material, and yet, ethereal.

The somnolent escape in the paper kingdom of mindless thoughts in order to have a mindful release to the letter collective! 😅🤣

—M.

[jellysshitpoems]

Sunday Re-Baptism, Poem by me (jellysshitpoems)

[definegodliness]

Pulverise

Nullified, and yet alive; What is this restlessness in the void, That remains I —?

In ongoing Detachment, survived, The cost of loss; its detrimental Severing

Self from surroundings, then, Self from

Soul,

Beyond the initial Illusions Of isolation; arisen in A deeper connectedness with the all.

Then, who am I, now?

I am The mortar, And the pestle, And the

Stardust, scattered.

I, matter.

Then, why am I, still?

I am, as every speck of stardust Is Innately A starting point of Brand new creation; Potentially the first part Of a sum Of a whole, And any whole is a sum of parts.

I matter.

And I settle back Into my skin, forgetting All the questions, distracting, Yet Knowing The answer

I am.

--- 10-10-2024, M.A. Tempels ©

[big-low-t]

Nothing

.

Panoramic sunrise

Again, I'm in disguise

Don't look directly into the me

So much I don't want anyone to see

Scratch at the familiar itch

Talk and see my face twitch

The shy bug bites

A tick, mosquito or mite

(I just might)

(Yeah, right)

Grumpy and fast agitated

My self love is never dilated

I'll never win

Toss myself off into the bin

Back to front sound silence

Repeat the nightly inner violence

There's scant left to defend

Let's just embrace the end

.

[lonelyzuul]

Mortality Salience

Prolific shades between beige, I don’t compete. Hard corners layered in a hard cornered room. Dire like shadows on a chessboard. I want to paint it with mouth blood. Make it striking to escape the foreboding. Something sits in my stomach churning like a transcendental cat, shifting from liquid to solid to back; As though it’s circling a bed in a sort of preparation. No rush in a vulture. No need to escape when death amounts to positive reinforcement. On a whirling planet flying through space, moving at an incomprehensible speed, catastrophic events inevitable… and I can’t help but remain still. Everyone I know will die hating me for it. Still I remain still. I can’t get out of The Stillness. Can someone come meet me? Can someone follow the blood and meat me. Please?

[the-muppet-joker]

Picture a Joker's foot flying at you at 200 Miles Per Hour, ready to deliver a kick that will blast you through space-time. Now picture my toothy muppet grin as I deliver said kick. Not a pretty sight, correct? The kind of sight that has you all aquiver with fear? Yeah. Don't fuck with me basically is what I'm saying pretty much.

[starryalpacasstuff]

Let's talk about how lonely it feels once you realize that everyone you grew up with hates an integral part of what you are. Let's talk about wondering what goes through your friends' minds when they make crude, insulting jokes while knowing that you're queer. About learning the hard way that acceptance cannot be your default expectation in the world you live in. Let's talk about the horrible game you have to play with every person who isn't openly declaring their hate for gay people to figure out where a person stands on queerness without ever mentioning them. About how you already know what the result will be, but you allow yourself to have a tiny bit of wretched hope every time that you will be proven wrong, only to be proven right every time. About learning to expect the worst instead of the best from people. Let's talk about how people don't even use slurs because 'gay' is insult enough to them. About how tired and alone and pissed you feel. About being exhausted of compromise, compromise, compromise when all you want is to be loved for who you are. About wondering why can't people just let people be. Let's talk about smiling awkwardly and faking laughter at jokes that make you die a little inside. About wanting to scream and fight but knowing that ultimately, it's useless. And let's talk about feeling completely, utterly, helpless to do anything about any of it.

[papasmistakeria]

Two religious horror media that centers around a small isolated place that was implied to be religiously devoted and that some people stay away from due to bad events that transpired. These media have several characters and themes in common; A cult, a troubled youth who was forcefully turned into a member of a cult, a gruff foreign protector who opposes the main character, a demonic being that "saved" the main character, an overtly religious and avid follower of a cult, and most importantly, the priest main character who tasks themselves with saving the life of a specific person by any means necessary. At some point, they lost sight of reality, perceiving grotesque figures as biblical creatures, and they've also lost the trust of their Parish. They also have an old companion that they try to desperately save from completely losing their sense of selves. The priests are also named John and are over 6'1

Oh and they've killed someone with their bare hands when they got lost in the sauce

[shittyartestries]

i talk to you in my head all the time

i still see you in everything

[vevasap]

Where do I end?

Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.

-

Played in the pool for hours and hours,

never tiring though inevitably I'd succumb to sleep

the moment we'd head for home.

Though despite the time, the pruny fingers and the bloodshot eyes,

never did I learn to properly swim;

couldn't time my face in the water to each

stroke, stroke, breathe,

stroke, stroke, breathe,

stroke, stroke, stroke,

fuck.

They still said I was okay to be a lifeguard though

and in the eighth grade I was trained to save

a drowning person,

any drowning person.

Never put it to the test in a pool, but I can attest

to the first rule they taught:

that a drowning person will kill you in their panic.

Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.

Maybe add fuck in there,

fuck if I know.

But the demarcation is not that clean,

in-fact, the absurdity of ascribing these to hard-set rules

is matched only by Kubler-Ross's bullshit.

It's all always, all at the same time, mixed perhaps

to different degrees, but just a sympathetic nervous

system soup, swirling into a whirlpool

of either confused action or action through inaction

as there is no true inaction, no matter

how you reach for the ledge, begging

for a quick reprieve.

-

"You",

it feels better to say "you",

that it was the attempt to save

pulled "you" down,

but you were never drowning.

It was always me

trying to save "you".