Money is the alienated essence of man's labor and life; and this alien essence dominates him as he worships it. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. 1 —KASIMIR FREI. 28. HE/HIM.
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@kasimirfrei
Money is the alienated essence of man's labor and life; and this alien essence dominates him as he worships it. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. 1 —KASIMIR FREI. 28. HE/HIM.
➤ APP / BIO / STATS / SPARKNOTES (coming soon!)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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MOURN ME. for @kasimirfrei & @ofrooks // freedom comes at a cost, you know this. why do you keep paying the prize when it might not be worth it? // trigger warning for grief, mentions of death.
They don’t have graves. Maybe it has something to do with the way the Sectatores view death or maybe it’s just what the survivors deserve. No place to return to, when they want to give shape to their grief. No physical reminder of what you’ve lost. Of what they made themselves lose. No ash, no dust, no bones — nothing but the gaping hole in a chest, organ removed, frostbite.
This is how it was always destined to be. Fate demanded that there could be one survivor, one free corvid and in this version of the story, the chosen one is Mateo — but is this freedom? Why does that concept – which really is just that: a concept, a vague idea, a promise that is never kept – always come at the steep prize of other people’s lives? Besides, isn’t it in death that one reaches complete freedom? Untethered, let loose, no longer tied down by earthly things like gravity and responsibility.
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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝟎𝟕. NURSE ME / KILL ME
a drabble about one character healing another / a drabble about one character killing another — for @kasimirfrei
It feels like a lifetime since she’s been back, but the apartment looks exactly the same as it had since she’d left for the cursed townhouse. A glance at the clock on the wall tells her that there’s still time, so she makes her way to the kitchen and retrieves her tea set from the cupboard. She wonders if he will show up; a wiser man would not, but she has a feeling that he will come—out of curiosity, perhaps, if not sentiment.
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𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄 .
── from @kasimirfrei .
they’ve been friends for too little time. it’s a tender thing, what they hold in their hands ── baby bird sculpture carved out of crystal, balanced on four palms and comforted by exchanged whispers of reassurance. that it won’t slip from their hands, that it will not fall, that this will be something long - lasting and that one day they’ll look back at this together and laugh at how young and silly they were. dancing around each other, coming together so slowly.
when it was always as easy as isabele asking kasimir out on a date.
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PROMPT 07 — CALL ME for @cathartidie ft. @ofrooks (One character calling another for help.)
── CW descriptions of illness, (unintentional) disordered eating; mentions of hallucinations and death.
you feel like shit.
worse than shit. the worst you’ve felt in your life, and you’ve felt bad before. you have no fucking idea what’s happening, and that scares the shit out of you.
you, systems, processes, relationships, techniques — they are worthless in your shaking hands. here is no shape left to them, no structure, nothing to make anything with. centuries of drought hitting your grey matter at once, washing the clay-baked remains away with a Biblical flood, and you are out of words and metaphors and history because your stomach hurts. it hurts very badly.

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Sun Bleached Flies
Handmade Collage, Beauty No. 7, 2022
PROMPT 07 — AMUSE ME for @nvghtingale (One character healing another.)
Very few things in this world make you feel like a man.
It’s like this — there may have a time and a place where the things you do are manly. Baking involves very many masculine components, has traditionally been a man’s profession, but it doesn’t feel like it. Not when it comes from cooking for your father in the kitchen. When what you want is to be the hot meal someone comes home to, the clean home and fresh laundry and warm embrace.
PROMPT 07 — NURSE ME for @wardeniii (One character healing another.)
‘GOD DOES NOT SEE ME’
(Ceramic cross)
— Apprehensions, Sylvia Plath
[text ID: Is there no way out of the mind?]

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Adonis, tr. by Khaled Mattawa, Selected Poems
Well, communism is all the more the true religion as it strives for the very same end, not in a fantastic way, not by praying and fasting, wishing and sighing, but in a manner positive and active, real and true, by the social organization of manual and mental work. Joseph Dietzgen, Six Sermons on Communism and Religion
John Keats, from ‘To _ (What can I do to drive away)’
Rainer Maria Rilke, from Stories of God

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this is the end.
@badrshadow @wardeniii @parabellxm @kasimirfrei @actsofgod @devxtions
from "statements written in the margins of my journal from sept 2019 to may 2021" (paper + digital, 2022, silas denver melvin)
click for better quality (instagram)
[ID: a black and white photograph of two birds. one is in flight while the other is perched. in simple lime green text it reads "i haven't been touched in months. i look to history & recoil." /End ID]