#cw: suicide mentions

[prettysuper]

@reddrakebird : A Second Chance (Set minutes after Kon's return to the current timeline where he is presumed dead.)

Part of him had always romanticised death; longing for it's slender bony fingers to expire him from existence. The reality however, hadn't been on his agenda for a long time - almost given up on the concept, convinced he was unbeatable, until of course, he'd been proving woefully wrong by no one other than an alternate version of himself. Now wasn't that ironic? He might as well have committed suicide. But Kon hadn't been trying to die that fateful night. Simply save the universe from himself. The same way he always had. Unfortunately, whatever romantic notions he'd had of non-existing weren't nearly as exciting as he'd anticipated. There was no afterlife. Being brought back had taken just over a thousand years, and boy had it been a long millenium. He'd spent his time flickering between dreams of bright blue sad eyes and dark brown hair wrapped in his fingertips, only to be rudely awoken by a man who claimed to have resurrected him. After helping defeat himself once again, Kon was only too glad to be transported back to the current timeline - unaware that he'd still been dead to his friends and family for an entire year. His first point of call probably should have been to check on Cassie but it was Tim's heartbeat Kon found himself searching for; those memories of the dreams that he'd found himself lost in during his recovery, resurfacing the moment he felt his boots hit the ground. Listening out for it, he could hear that signature beat heightened - not irregularly, just enough to be combat territory. Seeing as darkness enveloped the Kent farm, it made sense that Robin would be on patrol. Without thinking, he flew up into the darkness and honed in on that heartbeat - soaring to the other man's destination within seconds - just on time to catch a spray of bullets meant for the other man with his telekinesis. Their metal casings dropped to the ground, when Superboy stepped in front of Robin's current target, his back to the adversary as he looked at the other man in the whites of his domino mask and asked far too casually, "Hey Boy Blunder! Miss me? Caus, I'm sure glad that missed you." Kon teased, completely ignorant of how his sudden reappearance could be a shock to the other. It'd only been a few hours right?

[lastoneout]

Ya know when people told me "when you're finally safe enough that you can leave survival mode and start to let go of and process your c-ptsd/trauma things are probably going to get really, really bad before they slowly start to get better" I thought that was reasonable. I did not understand that by "things are going to get bad" they meant "you're going to find yourself in the worst mental state of your entire life, but dw, that means it's working" and tbh I simply wish someone had been more clear.

Edit: If everyone could please take a minute and think about what it must feel like to be struggling and then have multiple strangers say to your face that they find the prospect of going through what you're going through so horrifying that they'd rather kill themselves and then stop leaving comments like that I would greatly appreciate it.

[ozzybutweirdthistime]

hellooooooo guess who got into mouthwashing

[lucielxbe]

after nextgen: some thoughts. cw: mentions of suicide.

( from: Aniki ) > remember to take care of yourself, ruru. i’m sorry i couldn’t spend more time with you. > you can come back anytime when you’re free, alright? > aniki will be waiting. >ᴗ<

( to: Aniki ) > Thank you, I will keep it in mind. > Safe flight. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

luciel tosses his phone to the other side of the bed. it’s been a while since he has felt this comfortable in his bed without needing to think about going to practice in the early morning the next day. he’s gotten a contract, so eventually he has to think about it again. for now, he takes it easy. he’s expected better from himself on nextgen, but this was good enough for someone who never once thought of entering the music industry that wasn’t classical.

he built and refined skills, even making friends through the program. most of all, maybe becoming a performer is something he could do? a dream he could chase after with passion? such a feeling feels so… foreign. strange and unbelievable. is this a taste of normalcy?

the boy wraps his blankets around himself. his room isn’t cold, but no matter how much he cocoons himself with the warm blankets, it still feels cold. the fire from earlier has started dimming down; those moments of being on stage blinded by the lights and deafened by the audience’s roars — they dissipated, leaving nothing behind for the frosty void.

he isn’t sure. he’s never sure, and he doesn’t wants to know. since a long time ago, he’s been standing in front of the line he can’t cross.

the other side is dazzlingly bright, it’s a place where flowers could grow magnificently under the light of the sun. without the sun, they’ll wilt in darkness. there’s some plants that could live in the darkness on another hand, where exposure to the light would kill them. regardless of how much they try to feel that warmth though, it’ll only bring them devastation.

in the end all they can do is dream about it, enough to pretend they’re light in itself. just like how the moon doesn’t shines on its own and reflects the sun.

luciel — a name he picked only because he thought it was pretty as a child. somewhere down the road, he came to realise the irony of it all. maybe god laughed when the child dared to pretend to be the light.

leaving the room, luciel drags the blanket wrapped around him to the living room as he settles down on the sofa while he leaves his phone next to him. luciel doesn’t bother turning on the lights as he rests his head against the sofa pillow that’s clearly not meant to be slept on.

he glances at his phone again.

( no older notifications )

another minute.

( no older notifications )

another hour.

( no older notifications )

even a scolding would’ve been nice. faces full of disapproval and disappointment with fingers pointed at him, shouting at him that he was the greatest mistake his parents ever made — at the very least, they would be acknowledging his existence, right? even if ryeo luciel jihyun turned out to be their sin, it would show that they cared for him, right? if they looked at him even once, the adopted child would have dropped his knees for them.

but that could never happen. he doesn’t exists in their eyes. even if he took his life and slit his throat in front of them, all they would think about is how troublesome it would be to clean it up.

luciel stops looking out for the messages. instead, he clicks on someone else’s chat. his eyes linger on the profile picture for a while.

( to: Asakura Touma ) > Are you awake? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ > Can I see you now? For a drink? We haven’t hang in a while ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ > I’m very sad, can you come comfort me, psych major-kun? ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) > If i died, would you be sad? > Would you cry for me? > You would, and that’s not a good thing.

he doesn’t clicks send and deletes everything he types. luciel doesn’t knows what compelled him to reach out for something that would burn him. his dear friend (friend?) doesn’t deserves to deal with whatever that’s going on his mind, so he leaves his phone for the night once and for all. alone with his own thoughts, hugging himself to sleep with his knees close to his chest. it’s a stupid sleeping position he can’t get rid of.

two weeks went by in a flash.

the ryeo’s never sent him the message he once craved.

[i-am-a-fish]

I'm very sorry to ask something like this, I've really been struggling with this question, and I wanted to ask the combined wisdom of the people on this site

I would like to know why you keep going, and what drives you to keep living. I know there are a lot of reasons to stay alive and enjoy life, I can think of a few that personally resonate with me, but I really want to know what your reasons are

You do not have to comment on this if that's too big of an ask, and I'm very sorry for asking something like this, I really need someone's help, I feel like I don't have much purpose

Also if I may ask, please don't post any suicidal ideation in the comments of this post, I really can't handle something like that right now

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[disco-asphodel]

realtalk but when i see dudes on steam or ppl on tumblr talking about how disco elysium made them feel pathetic and uncomfortable i just. i don’t know. i cannot relate to that at all. disco elysium is about an alcoholic amnesiac poet in love with a dying city who loves him back. if i had never been an alcoholic, if i had never been suicidally depressed, maybe i would think the world of disco elysium is a bleak one. but when you know what it’s like to go through that darkness and come out of it again? to fall back in love with a world that almost destroyed you? disco elysium is the most hopeful story imaginable. it sees the world for what it is and holds nothing back, none of the horror, none of the wonder, none of the love…

something about art comforting the disturbed and disturbing the comfortable i dunno

[onetoomanyyy]

What if Marina had Whatsapp 😂

[raccoonskoodilypoopdungeon]

[sandersstudies]

People who don’t even try to shield children from adult personal or interpersonal conflict make me want to bite through a wall.

Aggressive arguing or violence in front of children, trying to make children take sides, traumadumping on children, serious negative self-talk or suicidal ideation in front of children, not explaining conflict in an age-appropriate way, etc. Biting you biting you biting you (but not in front of them).

I’m not saying never disagree and skip through a field of daisies forever but if you are about to have an uncivil disagreement with somebody dismiss yourself for grown-up time and remove yourself from the kids’ sight and hearing for the duration.

[toboldlymuppet]

broken but not destroyed

WHAT A DISAPPOINTING AND HEARTBREAKING FINALE? To have the man who was abused, mutilated, and disabled for protecting the crew, to have a suicide attempt survivor who crawled on the ground, to have someone who battled depression and alcoholism, to cement his role as the 'Ship's Unicorn" (the figurehead that protected the crew) only to reduce him as someone who "had to die" because he had no more narrative feeling, what a slap to the face. DJenkins said he didn't want to fall back into old tropes and burying your gays, but there's an elder disabled queer man you just buried for what, to absolve Ed of his abuse? Izzy died thinking he DESERVED the torture done upon him. What a disgrace. Izzy fans rallied and kickstarted a S3 renewal Campaign. And many of us are heartbroken and grieving for a show who promised kindness but only justified the abuse we've gotten the past months? We stayed and hoped better because of kindness and belonging. "This show is kind" has never rang more hollow. I'll still love and create art for him, but I don't think I can trust any other queer show again. I thought this would be different. Do you want a queer show full of kindness and found family, for all queers, the disabled and survivors and the rough around the edges ones? It's not Our Flag Means Death.

[tibbycaps]

[sp1resong]

i need to [remembers suicide jokes arent healthy] defeat the king on my own

[reddbuster]

I forget who made it but I saw a post the other day talking about how a lot of trans women come out much later in life than trans men tend to (and hence why “egg culture” tends to be mostly centred around transfemininity) and it really made me reflect on my experiences with queer spaces and how things have visibly changed as I got older. I’ve been pretty heavily involved in queer and especially trans spaces, both in-person and online, since I was a preteen. While spaces and events for people my age were much more sparse (and harder to attend while closeted) as a kid, they did exist. But one thing that always stuck out to me was the complete absence of trans girls even at events mainly aimed at trans youth. I met a good few other trans and gnc kids at these events, but all, literally every single one of these people were perisex and assigned female at birth. Not a single transfeminine person to be found. This changed as I got older. I started high school. Slowly but surely the circles I hung around in became more diverse. I met trans women. I met and befriended gay and gnc “boys” who would later come out as trans girls. Now, as a young adult, the ratio of transmasculine to transfeminine folks in my life is near equal. But even now, the demographic of trans girls in my life generally skews older than the guys. And of course this trend is very reflective of the effects of transmisogyny in general, how the media targets trans women as the scapegoat for their hatred, painting ‘trans girl’ as a shameful and deviant thing to be. It is reflective, more than anything, of how we all need to be more steadfast in our support of trans women both in our activism and in our day-to-day lives. But I also think that everyone needs to make more of an effort specifically to support young trans girls. Transfeminine kids, teenagers, even young adults. Because I have met so many women that I know for a fact would have enjoyed their teenage years so much more if someone, anyone had been there to tell them when they were young that it was alright to be trans. The first friend I ever lost to suicide as a teenager was a trans girl. And I live every day of my life with the knowledge that if I hadn’t been her one and only source of support, she probably still would have been here today. Believe me when I say that I understand the importance of respecting people’s boundaries. I do think that insisting every gnc person must be trans is a bad and counterproductive thing to do. But I’ve also seen firsthand what happens when trans girlhood is treated like it’s a downgrade, it’s very suggestion a taboo. When nobody is willing to be the one to say “hey, it’s okay if you want to be a girl”. I believe with everything I am that the life and happiness of a single trans girl is more than worth the discomfort of a million cis men. And if you disagree with that sentiment I think you either need to fix your heart, or you need to make peace with the fact that you are a thoroughly vile person and endeavour to shut your mouth about transgender issues forever.

[prettyboykatsuki]

on deaths door | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dark content ahead, afab + gender neutral reader, dark comedy / black comedy, attempts of suicide, the use of the word rapist in text, mentions of self-harm scars, penetration, intense but not rough, gojo is doting, no curses au, ceo!gojo 18+

note: this fic is mostly intended to be a dark comedy and have an unserious nature. it is very absurdist and it makes light of both suicide and assault. please proceed carefully if you find this might be triggering to you.

PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED.

✮ wc ; 2.6k

✮ a/n ; i actually really really enjoyed writing this and would love to expand on it potentially. KJSDFJSKD.

reader has been through a lot so they are super nonchalant about everything just as a precaution

"Uwah," A voice startles you from your place on the roof. You gasp, amidst tears and sobs from shock. "Are you about to kill yourself?"

You whip your head around to see who could be beside you at this hour. It's a deliberately obscure location, too so it's extra weird. You were hoping to die in peace in a place where it'd be hard to find you, after all.

But there's a strange man interrupting your plans. Very strange. He's speaking Japanese rather clearly but his hair is a shock of white and his eyes are blues as saphhires. Despite the situation, his voice is light and cheerful - almost amused.

You can't tell if he's just a figment of your imagination. He's so unusual it stuns you out of your tears. You can't find your voice to respond for a moment.

"Yes," You reply, unsure of what else to say. He smiles at you.

"Hm." He looks contemplative. "Well... if you don't want it, can I have it?"

You stare on, confused.

He grins. "Your life, I mean. Can I buy it off you?"

Starting to wonder if you've already died, you stretch your hands up to wipe the tears off of your face just to see if any of it is real. The touch makes it gasp. You're definitely still alive. So, that means this strange man is also real and asking to buy your life.

"What?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not a cheapskate or anything, the price will be fair." He walks closer to you from where you've been standing all this time. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt, picking you up and setting you down further away from the ledge with a harsh yank.

Like a kitten whose mother is dragging it by the nape, you fumble onto the rooftop concrete. As soon as you're moved, you drop down to your knees - unable to find anymore strength.

"Are you... trying to traffick me?" Your voice is coarse in your reply as you stare up. It's a genuine question. You aren't sure what else to call this. The strange, unusual man just laughs in your face.

"Mm, well - not really. Though, if you say yes I'll make good use of you in all ways." The last part makes your skin crawl a little. "You were weeping so pitifully when I came up here... super pathetic. I just thought it'd be a waste if you died since I got to see something interesting."

There's something really wrong with this guy, you think. But this is such a common thing in your life, you aren't sure how shocked you should be.

There's also something equally wrong with you, because you're so fucked up - you're considering it. If he paid you enough to cover all of your debts, you could cut ties with all the bullshit your fathers debt has put you through. You could run away. Not there's anywhere for you, even after that. But at least you'd be unshackled from what makes you most miserable.

You don't want your life, but if this guy wants it so bad then...

"...How much will you pay me?"

His eyes light up when you ask this and it unsettles you further. "As much as you want. And you'd have to live with me at my beck and call."

"Like a pet." You reply easily.

Instead of denying it, he snaps his fingers and grins. "Exactly! Or maybe more like a plush toy that I take every where?"

Either way, you're not any kind of human. You're barely human now though with how much you work, so you aren't sure it makes a difference. You stare at him. And he looks back at you with a smile - all pearly white pristine teeth.

Who cares anymore, anyway? Even if he were to mistreat you, you're not sure you'd even feel it. It's all numb. He can have your life if it means you can escape what you're running from.

He looks rich, so maybe.

"Don't worry," He hums, and he reaches over to pat your head while your face is covered in tears. You don't flinch for some reason. "I don't like breaking things I've bought unnecessarily."

Something is wrong with you. Your self preservation is in total fucking tatters. But still, you want to say so you do. Maybe it's the absurdity, or the fact you truly don't have anything to lose. Nothing could make your misfortune any worse.

You sniffle and shake your head. He's dangerous and weird, but at least you could pay off your debts.

"Okay," You say weakly.

His smile gets impossibly wide.

You're wonder if you'll regret your decision.

__

He's filthy rich.

You should've expected that. You did, kinda. Because only rich people would think to do or ask something so absurd like ask to buy another persons life. Still, he had a driver waiting for him downstairs and his car is definitely a sports care. A McLaren, you think. One of the places you catered for ages ago was full of rich people with flashy cars and you remembered some of them.

He sits with you uncomfortably close in the back seat but doesn't speak to you at all during the ride. Not until you arrive at the destination, which is a giant building where the strange man certainly lives.

The driver (named Ichiji) calls the strange man Gojo-sama, which makes you feel extremely on edge. They whisper about something when you're out of ear shot, and Ichiji gives you a sorrowful look that you can't place.

The name Gojo is familiar to you, but you aren't sure where you've heard it.

After taking a long elevator ride to one of the upper floors, you end up in the strange mans condo. When you get there, he tells you take off your shoes and gives you nice slippers.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says, still frivolous and speaking to you in what feels like a foreign tongue. "And also yours. I'll set you up in the guest room later, but you'll be keeping my bed warm mostly so keep that in mind."

The size of the place is absurd and so is the decor. What have you gotten yourself into? You must've gone insane. You're too afraid to touch anything.

"Am I like... a sex slave?" You ask curiously.

He frowns at you. "You make me sound like some kind of rapist. I guess now that I own you....it might make me one... but you agreed to come here so don't be like that!!" He huffs, childishly.

His response is somewhat incomprehensible to you. He's stranger by the minute and completely tactless - but for some reason, it's hard to distrust him. He doesn't raise any immediate red flags aside from being unusual.

You almost want to say it wouldn't matter if he was, as long as he pays you but decide not too.

"Okay. Do you want me to take my clothes off?" You reply, nonchalant. He stares at you.

"...I know your heads pretty fucked up, but don't you think you're being too blase about all this?"

Your brow furrows. A weird response for a guy who willingly understands this is a less than ethical situation "Would... you prefer I struggle and refuse you? Is that your fetish?"

"No! Well..." You look at him flatly as he thinks on it, almost blushing at the thought. You make a face of disgust "Not in this case, alright! It's just too pitiful and I'm not that type really.... Be more cautious."

"But you were planning to fuck me from the start, right? Or something."

He nods. "Well, yes. As a way to earn your living and for me get my urges out whenever. Finding people to have sex with is a hassle."

You shrug.

"Right. I can cook and clean too. I've done pretty much every job you can think of it,"

He waves a hand at you. "We can discuss it later." He puts a hand in his necktie and pulls on with a small smile. "Right now, I want to test out my new toy so..."

You should feel more disgusted by how he refers to you, but you don't have it in yourself.

"Can I shower first?"

He looks surprised but nods. "Uh-huh. Just wear one of my shirts when you come out. Everything else is in the bathroom. It's upstairs, first door on your left."

You stand to your feet, nodding.

__

It takes you ten minutes to figure out how the shower works.

His shower is nice. The whole place is nice. Nicer than any shithole you've ever lived in. He has a lot of nice bath products, though you aren't sure how you feel about smelling like him since you're borrowing his.

You examine your body a bit in the shower, looking at old scars as you wash and rub yourself clean. Thankfully, you gave yourself a trim downstairs not long ago.

It's embarrassing in retrospect but you've not had much of a choice in the first place. You're sensitive, unsure of the last time you've touched yourself given how much you work. You think of your job and feel guilty for how you're going to miss it. But you recall that you were preparing to die not even two hours ago and feel less bad.

You whimper a little as you finger yourself open under the water - getting wet easier than you thought. You have to lean against the wall, but with enough coaxing you get three fingers in. You're still horny when you shut the water off and step out.

You dry yourself and put on lotion - staring in the mirror. As told you borrow one of his shirts, but it's too big on you and you can see your nipples too clearly which makes you embarrassed.

You reason you're about to go fuck a stranger anyway, and decide to step out right after.

__

You decide against wearing underwear since his shirt fits on you like a dress, but regret when you come back down stairs feeling aware of the breeze on your went cunt.

He's sitting on the couch with his legs spread, dress shirt unbuttoned but still in his clothes. He hears you before he sees you, eyes widening. You suddenly get self-conscious under the weight of his stare.

"Better than I thought," Is his only assessment. Your skin grows hot.

He beckons you over to him and you go, unsure of what to do until he pulls you into his lap. Forcing you to straddle him, he wastes no time in feeling you up. His hands at your waist and chest. His face lights up in pure amusement when he sees you bare underneath.

He stares at your pussy for a long time.

"It's good," He hums, his hands brushing against it. Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal, a pathetic moan leaving your lips that makes him laugh. "Pretty."

You don't have anything to say to that so you keep quiet. Gojo slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt to asses your wetness, surprised surely by how wet it is. Without warning, he plunges a finger in. He looks up at your face, your hand covering your mouth so you don't moan.

"So wet," His voice can't contain his amusement. "What's this?"

"I was," You shiver half-way through as he plunges in another finger and it goes in smoothly. "I p-prepared in the shower and masturbated. I thought you'd just want to stick it in and I didn't want it to hurt.

"Haah," His voice is sharp, suddenly breathy. Something hard and big presses up against your leg. "You're talented in seducing me. I'm not so ungentlemanly, but I'll let it go this time, alright?"

You nod. He uses a sticky hand to unbutton his slacks and push his boxers away. You gasp at the size of his cock. You're not a virgin exactly, but you haven't had sex with anyone this big ever. He chuckles a little, pressing the head of his cock against your stomach and cunt as if measuring it up to you.

More wetness pulses, shame filling you - because you're almost excited to be fucking this strange man you've only met today. Weirdly, you don't feel unsafe around him. Your eyes glass over from lust.

He sticks his fingers in your mouth and you suck automatically, instinctively. His smile is predatory all of a sudden, teeth glimmering.

"So obedient," He says, sharply. "Ah, I have a good eye. It really would've been such a waste."

You're content to throw yourself at him, chasing the pleasure. His fingers taste of salt and skin, making you want something else entirely. It's not long before he pulls away though, wrapping his hand around his shaft and making it shiny. You blink down at where he fists his cock - your spine tingling at the sight.

"Look at you," He mutters, amused. "Do you always get this excited? Is it normal for you to fuck strange men or am I special?"

You shake your head. "It's only been two people."

"Then I am special," He replies. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his cock pressing against your hole - fluttering. "We have good compatibility."

Before you can say a word, you feel his length push inside of you in one swift motion and gasp. It's so big, so impossibly big - and even with how much you stretched, there's a touch of resistance that's making your entire lower half feel like it's jelly. Almost numb from the sensation. Buzzing from adrenaline and want.

You feel full. In your stomach, in your chest - your whole body feel complete. When you manage to open your eyes, you look at Gojo and find yourself taken aback. His hair is pushed back from his hand and he looks... different. He's handsome now that you realize. His face looks...pleased.

You talk before you can think about it.

"Do I feel good?"

He laughs sweetly, before pressing a kiss to your temple that feels to affectionate for people who barely know each other.

"Uh-huh," He says. His hands are strong, tight on your ass as he bucks up into you - causing you to collapse forward. The pleasure makes you shake, sensitivity through the roof. "Feel so good. Hahaha, how lucky."

You cling onto Gojo's shoulder and bury your face into his neck. He doesn't stop you. A large hand comes around the back of your head - the other one at your hips as he thrusts up into you with alarming force and precision. He feels so good it's a little scary, and you can't keep the noises from slipping out. You moan and whine each time the tip rubs against you inside, soft walls barely able to accommodate the size.

Your body feels hot everywhere he touches. It's been so long and Gojo is so careful but so intense. His expensive dress shirt rubs up against your nipples each time he moves. It's so good, so good - makes you want to cry.

"You're so sensitive." He laughs against your shoulder. "Gripping so tight every time I move. Do you want to cum so bad?"

"Yes," The words are a sob. Just a little more.

"Uh-huh. Tell me where to touch you. How should I make you cum."

You're too shamelessly pent up to feel shy anymore. "Touch my c-clit, please, please."

"Got it, got it - don't cry."

Gojo listens to you well. Thick fingers and an angled hand find your clit with ease as he bounces you on his cock with no regard. Your eyes roll back instantly, immediately - as an orgasm washes over your entire body. Back arching, you cum hard around the base of his cock - but Gojo just keeps fucking you through it. He doesn't stop even when you come down, only moves you both so you're laying on the couch on your back.

He kisses you then, and you meet his mouth with sloppy tears running down your face from the pleasure.

"Let's see what your stamina is like, yeah? See if you can keep up with me."

__

He fucks you unconscious.

Essentially. Though you take with enthusiasm even during your exhaustion because the sex is phenomenal - you have no idea when you stop.

You wake up in a bed, and you wake up completely clean. You don't know whose bed, but there's a large figure besides you. Half-asleep and fully exhausted, you feel shy thinking about the fact he probably bathed and dressed you while you were out.

What a strange man, you think - to do that.

He's talking to someone on the phone. You don't really make out much of the words, though you do hear your name in bits and pieces.

"...A college student.......- young then -...... open a bank account for.... - debt...- pay it all off before it becomes annoying.... look into -."

You shift under your blankets half asleep. A hand comes up on top of your head on the pillow, pushing hair from your face.

"Did I wake you?" His expression is hard to read in the dark with your eyes barely open. "Sorry. Almost done. Go back to sleep."

So you do, because you can't find strength to do much else.

The bed is warm, but your sure the heat you feel is from the strong, gentle head petting your head as you rest.

[metamorphesque]

musings on June

1.anne sexton ("the truth the dead know"), 2. anne sexton ("suicide note poem"), 3. mary oliver ("august"), 4. l.m. montgomery ("anne of the island"), 5. morgan parker ("the black saint & the sinner lady & the dead & the truth"), 6. found poems: sylvia plath / peter k. steinberg ("percy key among the narcissi") artwork by hugo grenville

buy me a coffee