#saltfield

How many pages are left to read

Before I'm found in leaf-littered letters?

As you break down my spine,

I wonder why it's so divine?

.

When I dreamed of the garland line,

Pearls of love were fed to swine.

I'm trapped inside your mantle,

I belong to what's never mine.

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Trespasser in my own heart,

I can't cut out what you hate,

Because you're not here with me,

And it's a hunger you can't sate.

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I can't believe in who you are,

Because I'm your pearl you don't believe.

Made as one, but we're just two bodies...

A quick thing to be watchful of:

I had an "artist" (Dolph Sink of Canvaslines, now Colorphoria) reach out to collaborate on an art piece. They had a profile with "original" art, as well as some reposts and shares to make it look legitimate. Their descriptions and client details were all fairly standard fare, and they seemed knowledgeable of their art medium as well. (Oil on canvas, for them at least.)

In addition, they shared WIP photos of the very artwork they claimed to be working on as well as multiple photos/angles of the same workshop/space of the works in progress. However, as they "got close to finishing" the artwork, they had the client send an "E-check" (crusty jpeg) with a valid address and bank local to that area. Of course, it was for an amount greater than my share of the work/allocation.

They, "reached a deposit limit" so figured I could split it via some weird payment app. (They had Zelle, but similar to cashapp, Venmo, PayPal, etc.) That's an immediate flag for check fraud... Why would you ever send YOUR portion to someone else, especially without asking first?

You see, a lot of banks with mobile deposit will temporarily show the funds in your account. After a few days when the check is processed, it gets flagged, cancelled, and you are required to pay back that allocated amount you used/withdrew. Some banks may freeze or completely close your whole account for that kind of fraud.

As it so happens, their profile banner had an AI watermark on it after looking closer, and one of their "original" works we briefly discussed was obviously not their work or style. (They had cropped the signature as well.) I played along for a little while for fun, but had to confront them eventually. Of course, the moment I confronted them, they blocked me and moved on. Kinda sad. I was hoping they'd at least try to make something up to get my precious pennies.

None of their images flagged AI check systems so they are doing something to hide generative works or pulling from some incredibly obscure artists. (Or the checkers I used were garbage. The internet is mostly slop these days anyways.)

All that said, in short, never give banking or personal information to anyone, or open attachments from unknown sources, even if it's a fun collab opportunity that looks legitimate. When payment comes due, make sure YOU set the terms and NEVER accept something fishy. (They must send your share to a PayPal link you create, or something safe and verifiable for both parties. Unless you personally know the client, NEVER accept a check or scan of a check. If there are account / routing numbers, you can call that bank to verify.)

In addition, be overly nosey and pushy about details. Don't worry about being rude or making the transaction difficult. Verify their story, artwork, style, and make sure at several steps along the way that they are legitimate. (Constantly ask for progress updates, photos, dated items, things that AI can't easily fake. He never would give me art progress pics.)

Anyhow, I enjoyed writing some stuff for a dusty little basement goblin and am sharing this little tale of attempted deception with you so that you may likewise arm yourself for safety.

Art in peace.

At the edge of the shore I go,

A boundary to what seems like sea,

Love are the little ones milling about,

Coming and going with the flow.

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Droplets taste like nostalgia,

The noir of a cinema dream,

Transatlantic crooning swans,

Drunk on endless possibility.

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Delightful diversions,

Distractions make the mundane whole,

Sand in my swimsuit brings me back,

Holistic evaluations.

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Unsettled words run rampant here.

If coral grew around my heart,

Could I feed this ocean of warm feelings?

The great clock points skyward,

Both hands surrendered,

To an overbearing moon.

His ticking counts the stars.

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Low noon comes with a howl,

Moonlit shadows haunt their prowl.

Dreams stand off against nightmares,

Hiding underneath home's bed.

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Blankets shield the innocent.

In shivering sweat, we ferment,

Inebriating foul monsters,

Of cursed machinations.

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Until dawn we're trapped inside,

Re-living our diseased minds.

The twisted clock face of time,

Smiling in endless devilry.

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Sanity is a glass fracture,

We've slipped between the rupture,

Caught between realities,

In a plane where minds are lost.

The beginnings of romance,

Intrigue, desire, infatuation,

There were crushes, fascinations,

Then the irreplaceable you.

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Nights filled with movies,

Occasional jaunts to the lake,

A quick conversation, gone late,

And of course, where it all began...

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Ice cream. Fire, frozen in place.

Our awkward first date, hurried,

One little cup, and home in a scurry,

From then, I believed in love.

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Every passing fancy was compared.

"too short, too tall, too large, too small."

And the irreplaceable you, above all,

My golden standard, my golden ratio.

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It terrified me to feel, a wildfire unleashed,

All consuming, blooming, and entombing,

But I never quite knew what drew me,

To the hands that pushed me away.

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Like that first ride, always so quiet,

Despite hours of conversation, quiet.

When I pushed or pulled, you were quiet,

And when I burned out, I went quiet.

.

.

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The wildfire begged to be set free,

And again ice cream set us ablaze.

But it wasn't long... Just a phase.

And it was lost forever.

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Fire is frozen in place, ignited once,

Never again to blaze, but in the quiet,

I hear your ancient voice, silent.

The irreplaceable you: never to be mine again.

Born as a bolt of woven mystery,

Yardage of cord makes helical patterns.

Trimmed of the frays and stitched in the tears,

Spin me a yarn for the years I yearn.

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I'm the fabric of reality,

Pinned perceptions backstitch the patches,

Growing myself, block by block,

I'm a tapestry built in rhythmic batches.

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The ages pass, corners grow threadbare,

My fraying hair is trimmed and tucked in.

The mysteries of what I could one day be,

Are now histories of what I long have been.

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No longer whole, torn and forgotten,

Used and worn, a discarded remnant,

Time has ravaged my former body,

I beg for the shears, soft and clement.

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Each thread is severed, each stitch is pulled,

My masterwork is dissected and studied,

As numerous hands pull and refashion,

I'm joined with another, my faults become muddied.

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More than before, though far less of me,

I live in the weaving of an artist's eyes,

Once but a remnant, now given new life,

I hand them a future with vibrant advice.

Last week's one word prompt, "Decay" by @snazzy-writes-a-little and hosted by @picklemafia

Swift pen, scribbling,

Ends an author wanes.

Prayers of fortitude,

Compromise what's sane.

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Arrythmic analogues,

Upsetting blasphemies,

Pulsing Enceladus,

Stains my entities.

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Living ice, I wonder;

Hover, rings of amber.

Angel choir method acts.

Snow of mid December.

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Foreign body, are we life?

I ring your little finger.

Lost in space inside my mind...

[Prompt: "The Candlelit Memory" by @versesbyaaliyah ]

Stage lights and musty air.

You were the girl in the mirror there.

From miles away, from mere feet...

A concert played, but my heart stayed.

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The warm embrace, the talent,

I was out of place, like a nail, bent.

But you forgot how tall I was.

In the evening stroll, I felt so full.

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Muggy air, and a need to dream...

It was too late for ice cream.

But it happened anyways,

Before the last spoon, it ended too soon.

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My girl in the mirror, my song,

My heart turns, and I did it wrong.

I need to dream, and I'm still out of place.