#late night introspection

[milo-the-crotonian]

A Breeze

Cradled on the crests of enclosing peaks,

A golden crescent swam in the mists

Of dreams flashing hues in our sleep,

But drifts off down the brook like your kiss.

Crow to me from the branches of pine,

Bring the items that have started to decay,

And in the traits gone which we'll find—

Only when all was severed and astray!

Pale leaves flutter onto the shaded brook,

That snakes to flower-splashed plains;

That i hear tweets, and the longing chirps

Of the wonders that we sought in vain.

For what can the desert provide,

But sands over unknown flowers;

What still secrets could I confide

In these purple twilight hours?

[terrorofstars]

sometimes the ache will press against your bones as though searching for a home you cannot give and yet still you yearn for something unidentifiable something just out of reach as though it exists only directly to the left of your field of vision no matter how far you turn to seek it

[the-artsy-plant]

I just spent around five minutes killing a pincer bug in my bathroom. I was terrified at the thought of it biting me, of the minute pain that would cause me.

So I grabbed a metal toilet paper holder and tried to smash it. But it got away. I kept on repeating this, but as I held the bug down, trying to kill it, I saw it writhing and shaking in terror. I paused. I felt a pang in my chest.

What gave me the right to brutally kill a creature like that? Where did this entitlement come from? Why did I so thoughtlessly delight in the killing of something so small for a moment of satisfaction?

Why did this small creature’s existence bring upon me so much panic and anger that my immediate thought was to rob it of its life?

And why have my actions brought such spiraling and regret upon me?

Now I am sitting in the bathroom, contemplating my morality and what prompted such senseless aggression.

[gandalf-the-greynosed-reindeer]

The scrape of the razor against skin slices cleanly through a thin layer of biological protection and the subsequent drip of blood both mesmerises and stings lightly. The visual satisfaction is short term, but the pain is what keeps him grounded in the present; an anchor to prevent him from getting swept off into the currents of the past or possible futures.

If you are of the opinion that his actions are of detriment to himself, you cannot possibly fathom how much worse the alternative would be. How far into the void the eye of his mind has gazed. How much of the void has stayed within him.

[restingpensiveface]

always thinking. 👽

[ilovejoyjessie]

Shaking the Tree - An Introspective Exercise

"Hidden Figures" bares all in more than just the literal sense. Along with being a cathartic piece to work through my complex feelings about existing in the Seattle area, it also morphed into a project that challenged me to peel back my layers, a chance to show where the visions in my mind can go with just my body as the instrument to paint the picture. No fancy styling or special props; no studio sets or characters to hide behind - it is both literally and figuratively a stripping down to my bare artistic roots and basics.

.

After winning my first award for my photo work - a Juror’s Choice Award at the '22 Seattle Erotic Arts Festival - I was so proud of myself and my dedication to creating for getting myself to that accomplishment...but soon to follow the achievement was that big thoughts artist question:

.

........................"Well shit - how do I top myself now?” 

.

Afraid of stagnating, sophomore slumping, or becoming complacent, I wanted to push my work and creativity to another level but wasn’t sure exactly how. So I thought to look at the building blocks and hallmarks of past successfully delivered pieces with the goal of figuring out how I could further squeeze those strengths, shake their tree and see what dropped down:

Strong concepts and characterizations, expressiveness, bold posing choices and the understanding that sometimes the small details make the biggest impact... . What could I do to push the abilities and processes I’d been honing these past few years?

.

A few months after this creative self inventory, the Hidden Figures concept started to take shape. And as I took note of which sculpture pieces elicited emotional reactions from me, took note of the pieces I saw myself interacting with - as the deeper cathartic exercise of the project came into focus - I also realized that the park could be an ideal setting to challenge myself, my creative direction, and the building block strengths I had identified.

.

Could I apply my storytelling, cathartic expression vision to a setting and scene that I did not create myself? Could I make the points I wanted to speak to come through without loud accoutrements and replications? Could I express my inner feelings and experiences clearly between the pieces with just the expressions on my face and the shapes I made with my body? Could I and my little messages stand out in - even as I sought to blend into - the landscapes of these iconic giants?

.

With my missions in mind, the time for pondering questions under the tree had past. Standing beneath it, on an early summer morning, it was now my chance to pursue its fruits.

+ photographed by @skyclad.studio (ig) // website

[springtimebat]

Shark Week in the Tub

On the second day of my period I have a bath

By then, the stomach pain has subsided to aches and shakes

Pains in my lower back and around my pelvis 

There’s no sharp cuts to the abdomen; just clots upon clots of blood 

It takes 12 minutes for my bath to fill

I check in four 3 minute intervals 

The water is sky blue, too blue 

Flakes of plaster and paint sway on my ocean sea bed 

I scoop them out before I enter the separate domain

Because I don’t trust it, I don’t trust this bath

This bath I reserve for shark week

As I climb into the tub my legs fatten

To an absurd degree; so much so that I am a caricature

When I climb out in forty-five minutes

I’ll feel bloated, worked to the bone

A full-blown tick on the back of humanity

As I sink into the water the drain begins again

It gurgles, groans and shakes

Screeches in a way it restrains when I am in the shower 

Like it waits for me to swim its decaying depths

Snaking its way through me in seductive waves 

Faded blue and lake foam green transform

Into shades of bright copper and dying fire 

A turn off to be sure

Because the drain slurps it all up 

As I wash my hair in greased gestures of the hand

Its teeth begin to sharpen like a razor 

It swallows my pride whole

And leaves me a mollusc husk 

Empty and burdensome for the rest of my shark week

I leave my hair to dry alone 

It will need to be combed, prodded soon 

I sit in my pyjamas, spent on my bed, damp 

Listening to the tub’s dying screed 

For I escaped its gorging once again

[onatwt]

I'm a dreamer, I can spend on the end making up fictional scenarios in my mind and be happy with the little image I've made in my mind that everything will turn out okay. It's not a good thing, there's been numerous dreamers who got lost in their dreams and I'm afraid I'll be no different from the others of my kind....

[anafihs]

New beginnings or new insecurities

 Hello wanderers,

                                 It's been a long time since our last post. Sorry for this long absence, My semester kept me busy, but I'm back!. How are you all doing this year?

Well, now it's a new year, new resolutions, new goals. But do we need a new year to introspect and start a habit or stick to a new diet? I think the pressure on a new year and its resolutions are slowly fading replaced by new goals that extend beyond a new beginning.

    Well, it's refreshing to us but at the same time, it makes us introverts a little palpable. We tend to change our habits and routines on our own but the very world that intercepts this line makes us feel estranged when we discover others are doing a little more than that.

    I wondered if we were really committed to it, or if it was a spurt of our innate emotions. Eventually, I came to an understanding that how we perceive it matters the most. I am usually the one who feels this way once I hit the right spot after a long profound monologue going on in my head.

When I first started to improve my knowledge of a new topic of study, my peers were busy learning another topic that was way different from the one I chose. I felt revolted I couldn't discuss my understanding and thoughts which me feel isolated. I felt that my choice was bad and others were kinda made it look like it could be taxing for me to carry on my own.

 But I stuck to my choice and tried to navigate where it made me understand it much better and eventually, I gained new skills. My peers were surprised, but it was my trust in my own intuition that truly empowered me to overcome those challenges and embrace the journey.

Thus, I personally think that it's how strongly we emphasize our thoughts and goals that really make a difference. How about you guys? Have you ever felt conflicted between societal expectations and your own inner voice when pursuing a goal? Have you encountered such incidents or happenings? Feel free to share it.

Well, this is a short post guys,,,until then cheers to this new year and new happenings 

                                                                                     Yours truly in solitude

                                                                                                    Anafihs

[floor-a]

I have such a strange relationship with the concept of being known. Whenever i am around people (excluding my partner), i feel as if i don’t belong, as if i am fundamentally “other”. It’s led to me being innately withdrawn, and i struggle to maintain almost all relationships outside of necessity. I want to hide from the world.

And yet then there’s some part of me that insists, begs, and pleads that when i am finally gone from this world, free of those chains which bind me to the lives of others, that i am not forgotten by those i fear.

[vivatheephemeral]

Ive grown so accustomed to being sad and lonely that I have taught myself to enjoy it. I find myself sometimes wishing I was sad, because I miss the ever-present comfort that sadness provided me. Whatever happens, my sadness will always be there for me. Sadness swallows me whole and absorbs into my skin. I become so one with my sadness that I can’t tell where she begins and I end. Sometimes when she isn’t around I feel like I’m missing a close friend. But I know deep down inside that I tell myself that we are friends because it distracts me from the fact that she is eating me from the inside.

[milo-the-crotonian]

Sonnet 14: An Outcry

Vague and unbeknownst were my doleful thoughts,

Where yearned my empty spirit craving you—

Saying, saying with panting lips that sought

The misfortune hiding amongst the truth.

I chanced upon the curtain hued ebon,

Thru’ wavy strands: eyes glazed with fresh morn’ dew;

A pouting kiss of the carnal—craven:

All spun around with short-lived interludes.

Although, may the joy exceed a union

Severed from grief of a mistletoe's rot;

That Sense and Self collude for communion

To throw Cupid out, for Love won't be wrought.

Whatever shall my pacing heart try to do

But find, this time, someone who has me struck!

[ignoreme04]

We’re sitting in a completely dark room, illuminated in the center there’s a round table. On one side I’m sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, and across from me is me. But she looks tired, the bags under their eyes are worse than mine, her hair is longer than he wants it, it’s constantly falling in her eyes and they’re constantly pushing it away. She’s slouched and looks small, he won’t meet my gaze.

“So…” I start then trail off, what do I say?

“So.” She parrots back at me, he still won’t look me in the eyes. Her arms are crossed. They look like she’s on the verge of tears, like any minute he could break. How do I comfort her? I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what they want to hear.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I cringe internally at the weak attempt to start conversation and I see him echo it back to me.

“Of course I want to talk about it, but you already know everything.” I nod, I do know what’s going on in her head, it’s my head too. We sit in silence, his leg starts to bounce and my fingers start to tap the table. Or maybe it’s the other way around, I’m not sure.

“I’m just so tired, and confused.” She curls further into himself, “There’s no time, and I’m so alone. How do I do anything? Was I taught any of this?” My mouth is moving but I can’t tell if I’m the one speaking or if she is, “I’m blind and desperately feeling around but there’s nothing there for me to get a grip on.” They, I, stop talking, taking a breath and feeling it catch in my throat, my eyes start to water. “I don’t know what to do.” It’s said softly and breaks half way through. The sentence echoes through the dark room, bouncing back at me, it’s said over and over. Did I say it or was it an echo? He reaches over the table and grabs my(her?) hand. We sit there and I see myself, feel their hand on mine and I can’t stop the tears. I cry and through watery eyes I see that he is too. We cry together and the table fades away so we can hold onto each other. Eventually, or maybe it was the whole time, I’m just hugging myself, my own arms wrapped around my torso and it’s just me. Just me crying in a dark room, feeling more alone then I’ve even been, yet so comforted.

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

I think part of the reason I want to go into medical care instead of history is because I can’t imagine a future where I’m not helping people. My entire life has been dedicated to helping others, putting others first, sacrificing my own well-being for others just to be loved. I can’t imagine a future where I’m not helping people because it’s the only way I’ve ever been taught means I have value.

[lord-of-dragons-2007]

Nostalgic Places, Nostalgic Memories

So when I was seeing my ex, I had pinned the apartment address to my google maps and today I saw it come up and it just brought up some good feelings some good memories. I remember the thursday flights, I'd go into work an hour early and work 8 hours straight through so I could make a 3-4pm flight, hauling ass through a mountain pass to get home and get my bags for the weekend. I'd haul ass to the airport and then because no other parking would be available except the back of long term parking I'd hoof it a long way and through the long terminal just to bypass the long security line because I had precheck (such a good investment lol) and I'd make it to the terminal just in time to sit for five minutes and then they'd start boarding.

I hate heights so flying isnt the most comfortable thing in the world to me, but once we got up to cruising height I was ok, I'd watch some movie to get my mind off of the flight or do some of my drafts. This was really the first time in my life that I was consistently flying on my own, so these trips were an adventure for me. To go off to a far off place (to me anyway) and be completely independent.

I'd meet my ex for a moment of being together, then began the hour to hour and a half drive back to her place. LA traffic sucks ass, and I say that with some bitterness as the trip to her place always got me carsick because of all the stupid stop and go. It wouldnt be until I saw the familiar sights of Brea CA, that I'd feel at ease, that I was finally at home. I grew to know my way around that Brea area really well, downtown Brea was a nice little quaint area, a place I could see us spending a friday night between dinner and a movie and maybe something after or a show or some event they would have downtown. I found myself picturing my future there, picturing being there... Its funny after all thats happened, all this time, all this hate I have for my ex I still remember the good times fondly, I still remember every detail of that apartment.

Not sure if that makes me sappy, or stupid, but I guess on some level I think about those times and even the sad times when those trips would end, I still think of thoes times when I was last happy...

[dragg-aon]

A cold and still night is slightly better than a cold and windy night if only because one reminds you constantly of the cold and the other one you can pretend it's not cold.