Apr 8, 2021
Benedict marrying Sophie in canon does not make him any less bi/pan/queer thank for reading
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Benedict marrying Sophie in canon does not make him any less bi/pan/queer thank for reading
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Here we are, catching up with present time and my first one using a computer and all... such a grown up, using all that technology o__o. This one was supposed to be a test ride for me to get used to the pen and learn “again” how to draw. It ended up being a bit more ^^”. Diffracted - A3 (sort of). YDHills.
2/7
a cloud of stars gather beyond the dusty horizon when they settle to gravity there you were the apocalypse of all that is beautiful beyond the distant shores of grass a riptide of hills descend into verdant valleys of the universe we unravel at the navel one day our souls will ingest the source of light sound air beauty and truth beyond the approaching surface of our kindred galaxies
5:05 pm
I woke up this morning feeling pink, I smiled at the pretty blue sky and had a rush of content knowing I am alive, at least within my own realm. I took a nap, and woke up feeling colourless. I should have used grey to describe that feeling of being void but I find grey a balanced colour. And I don’t feel balanced, I just feel like I am without my colour, like ice, colourless and cold. I can’t count the time I have wondered why does this happen very often, why do my colours shift so easily, so drastically. But today, it didn’t just shift colours, they just disappeared, faded away. They faded away along with that warm glow I get knowing someone loves me. Romantically loves me. It sounds absurd to admit wanting love so disparately, but it’s how I have been living my life lately, absurdly.
I swear I seen him. I was reading a book waiting for the shuttle. The sun was bright and the breeze felt fresh, cooling my body. He was hidden in his hoodie as he walked passed me talking on the phone. My eyes were fixated on the page of my book as I tried to recognize his voice. Deep and rich as usual. I denied to myself that it was him in fact and I shuttered at the thought of him being in my presence then decided to engage in my book once again. Minuets passed. As the train approached the station I walked closer to him unintentionally to get to the front of the train. My sight was blurry but I can feel his stare burning through me. His stare felt familiar, and I reminisced about the way he would look at me with such intensity when we were with each other. It made my heart jump just at the thought. Afraid of confirming who he was, I turned my back and waited for the door to open. I didn’t look back and fought tears the whole train ride to grandmas… I regret not looking back but if it was him I wanted him to see that I’ve “moved on.”
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An older black man came up to me at broadway junction while I was reading. “Did I bother you with my loud talking on the train,” he said in a catty tone. I looked up from my book and replied “yea, but I was able to tune you out.” I knew he was trying to start a conversation with me. “You know, I never seen a tall young woman carry herself the way you do.” He tried to explain how I look intelligent and not a lot of black people know how to read. Of course I wasn’t impressed with that remark. “It’s because I carry a book, I’m intelligent,” I replied. He got stumped and then tried to compliment me. He basically said I look smart but he couldn’t elaborate when I said why. “I have a big forehead?” I said with a frown. He disagreed and quickly changed the topic since that conversation was obviously going nowhere.
He asked me my age and I told him 21. He looked down nodding his head as his eyebrows furrowed together as if he was thinking hard about something. He said he’s a comedian then refused to make me laugh without charging me 5 dollars. I looked at him and shrugged, but this stranger did not give up. He then gets into talking about comedians like Kevin Hart who used his tough life to make people laugh. That’s what he wanted to do. He loved making people laugh, but for a price I presume. Then out of the blue he jumps into a Martin impersonation which made me laugh hysterically. Suddenly I was interested in this 36 year old man. He messed all that up when he said he has “a lot” of girlfriends. I looked at him blankly waiting for a reason as to why he brought that up.
Then a concerned look appeared on his face and he motioned his hands in a way explaining that he was not trying to hit on me. We exchanged questioning looks and leaned back at the same time. The fact we acted the same way, had us laughing so hard we took a couple of steps away from each other cracking up. I then knew he could be a good friend regardless of his age or demeanor. He told me little about his life, his name and email in which I don’t remember neither of them. But I hope to see him around sometime. Although I was late to work, he truly made my day in the subway station that day.
hoodies & hijabs by @salwahafiz
Define a variable. Gravity is
the soul of the world. I fear the purity of
the s t a r s
One dies further into the sovereign
s u n.
Courage to dissent.
Love's throat. steady hands Arranging
the paradoxes in vertical order. The intention is perpetual,
uncensored. Your name like a pill breaking open.
Prisoners know something about the irony
of distance
Love is ineffable because it escapes
the limits of form.
An archivist of silences. Hope bears witness to fear.
My own private absence.
its knife-edged, delicate uncertainty
Surfaces contradict themselves. If I call forever,
If a heart can be saved
Circuits concealed like secrets. Ghost voice.
Im per f e ct symmetry It's between God and Satan.
The world is a Divine cryptogram.
Graph of time (t) against ocean.
Unmappable, but discoverable
Hell is war
Theoretical physicists extrapolating the devil’s
pitchfork.
Danger is distance.
If you're quiet enough, you can hear the music inside
your head unfolding geometrically.
A waver of interpretation.
A glance.
An eyelash
We are inclinations.
You are the way I want to die
tonight.
written by @salwahafiz
curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte
#FeedPoetry is where I curate twitter timelines and arrange tweets into poems.
Bitch of the Biopic by @rejecter
Deregulation, drug of the nation
Jesus Built My Meth Lab
Abyss or island? Make up your mind,
despair
is rational
hater of instinct lover of intent hallux vulgaris
Scratch all your birthmarks off and start
anew Everything we know is mutual.
I can taste you when I bite my cheek.
Poetry is one puny letter from poverty.
The voids come out at night. A piece of me is gone
Happiness means going where you are
narratives of need swastika macchiato
I am my own horror. To have and to choke.
Everything you say is more eloquently described
in the DSM-IV (axis II)
Sobered. So bored Sadness like a greasy film
on your hands Filled up and free
Garnish your scars When I make him laugh,
a sociopath gets hives
Twitter = you roofied yourself You can be your own
quitter!
….. I grieve the lost dialogue
Bare and naked
aren’t the same
Come into my confessional.
I’m the Mildred Pierce of intranets.
Trace my coastline
Here we are (not here).
It’s called osmosis, or love.
Beware of the textually barren childhood
my little pony,
my little leapfrog,
my little liver,
my little melancholia,
my little hope-hope-hope
Barn i förskoleklass på Aspuddens skola måste skriva
under på att inte ta droger på skolan
The revolution will not be advised.
written by @rejecter
curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte
#FeedPoetry is where I curate twitter timelines and arrange tweets into poems.