vivatheephemeral

[vivatheephemeral]

[vivatheephemeral]

bleed through

by R.A.P

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I find it deeply poetic that AI art cant correctly replicate its main rival

The hand.

But at the same time, we don’t have an accurate picture of our god either, do we?

I wonder if understanding hands is the key to unlocking something deeper in AI

or maybe I need proper medication

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i ignore the absence of an ache in my back, and a pain in my shoulder. i will miss this feeling one day.

i will miss my ignorance dear

i ignore the bills my parents pay, the things they lose sleep over, who has gotten shot on the new, where traffic is backed up on the highway from a tragic accident. i will miss this stupidity one day

i will miss my ignorance dear

when i finally feel my knees buckle and my hands callous under the weight of the world

i will miss my ignorance dear

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its so funny watching the kids of our generation cling onto the aesthetics of the past to capture the feeling of the comfort of their childhood because they are scared to go into the future. its sad because i too, cling to it. i miss listening to sam smith on the radio, playing girlsgogames and everything else from my childhood. but I’ve accepted that its over. my childhood is gone. all i have is the nostalgia. but how long can you be nostalgic? how long can you drive forward while never taking your eyes off the rearview mirror? i dont want to. i want to go back.

im begging you.

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so please, please, please, let me, get what I want, lord knows it would be the first time

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i often wish i could capture the beauty of a crisp dollar. you know that it wont stay crisp and beautiful long, and that one day it will be passed along the entire country, but today, it is beautiful and crisp, and you can buy whatever you want with it. then it will not be as crisp as it was for you as the next person who has it in their pocket. and you will always know that.

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“why are you tired? you haven’t done anything all day” the simple fact that i exist drains me. hope this helps

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having short-term memory is like. this book profoundly affected me. that show bared my soul. i don’t remember a single thing about it. but it did

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Your daily dose of fluffy animal content ♡

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i wonder what you were doing when i called you.

did you watch it ring?

did you let the phone sing?

were you busy?

you must be.

i hope you are.

because i needed you.

i needed someone to be kind to me

i needed someone to be there,

i needed someone to care.

i wonder what you were doing when i called you.

and most of all, why you never called back.

[vivatheephemeral]

The woman you keep: a poem for the “ruined.”

My mother says I am hard to love.

She says “a task only for one sent from above”

But what does she mean by this?

She does not mean I am one boys don’t want to kiss

for she knows boys have kissed me without asking for much.

She does not mean I am someone no one will touch.

She would say I am touched too much and now used up.

She would say I am ruined too many have drank from my cup.

If she knows I am kissed, touched, and used then by her “hard to love statement” I am confused.

Well, by this she means I am not like my sister

I do not say “yes please” or call a man “Mister”

I am not quiet, gentle, or meek

and a nice Christian man I will never seek

She means I am loud and never agree

She thinks because of this it will only ever be “me”…

Never “us”, never “them”. She thinks I will be alone.

A man could never love a girl with a mind of her own.

She would claim my biggest problem is that I am “hostile”

To be a lovable girl is to be docile.

I am the girl that boys “practice” on

they test me out and then they are gone

A man could never love me in this wretched state.

They would surely leave if they found out I was late

because no one wants a Family with the practice girls.

I am their swine, they are searching for pearls.

My Mother is right

And that is a claim I do not take light.

I am easy to touch, I am funny, even sweet

I do not lack a brain, my teachers called me “a treat.”

I have never once been called “slut”, “whore”, or cheap,

but I am the girl that you use, not woman you keep.

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Rifat Ozbek S/S 1994

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new year, no me 🤞🤞🤞

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Perfect Blue (1997) dir. Satoshi Kon

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