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Hey here's a preview of our new song that's about to be fully released by next week! Full album to come! Art by apis mellifera
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Hercules and the Hydra (detail) by Lucas Cranach the Elder, c. 1537.
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Boogeymen - part of a series of eerie stereoviews - dated 1923 (Via)
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Light pillowy love to fall into
Indentations created dimples that revealed joy
Silver spoons to keep you well
Covered in honey and ginger and frozen
Melt in hot porcelain cups with Chinese inscriptions.
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Flowers bloom up through the ground like a child being born
Rain collecting in the flowers curves like a cup of tea
Dew drops drip off the grass that is thin and hangs from the earth like feathers of a parakeet meeting the sky it's blue brother.
A child rolls his toy duck down the street like a sack of potatoes, heavier than he expected it to be this morning.
The sun Heracles and
I am king amyntor
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tides that rumble
choppy thought
broken cycles
lies bought
like ripened fruit
ready to pluck
spread like ants
gamblers luck.
Who’s alter
so pristine
holy dancer
why so mean.
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A mean streak
A shard of glass
A white veil
A piece of trash
Always there to make a pass
Never gonna last
Never gonna last
Never gonna last
You hike up your long cuffs
Ready for the final blow
But when the words leave your mouth
You look just like a doe
In headlights in headlights
I want you to stand up for me
I want you to stand up
But now I point my bow
Remembering to pick my battles
As I hold my tongue
Hold my tongue
Hold my tongue
You can swallow it this time
You can fall right into line
You can swallow it this time
It'll all go back to normal ones the sun shines
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I am fixing my brain with images
history
I barely remember.
Timelines just jumble up and I feel remorse
I am disengaged.
I help myself by reading of wit and wisdom
and I wonder how to strike that balance
I want to laugh at myself.
How can I attain their love
or admiration.
This is a thought that enters my mind, then I am reminded that it should not matter.
I should want to love my own life, and what does my own life give to me?
I see the raindrops are falling and I am reminded of the smell of the ocean back home, and the puddles that create small ponds on the beach
The dry coast becomes a marsh.
I can remember that my hands are big like my fathers
My heavy steps are like his.
I wish I could be connected to something that gave me greater ideas.
Inspiration.
It is Sunday. It is January. I do not think it will be good if I push the agenda. He needs these things. I need to pray to wind. I have no tether other than my insecurity. It pins me to the ground like a safety pin. Am I grounded? I feel boring.
Orions belt is a constellation bore from the pursuit of rape and demonstration over women. Maybe pursuit of love or obsession of the pleiades. These were the young daughters of atlas. Atlas was forced to hold up the sky and therefore could not protect his daughters.
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Fairy Land
Artist : Gustave Doré
1881
Source : artic.edu
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Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980; February 17th, 1970
Text ID: I don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though I may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful. But when I move into the world, it feels like a moral fall—like seeking love in a whorehouse.
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Natalie Wee, Never been kissed
@natalieweepoetry
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Aurora borealis captured by Matt Robinson, on Senja island, Norway (22/11/2020)
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Buy her the lingerie you want to see her in.
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