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I found these pokemon drawings I made when I was 7 and I am so pleased with my childhood priorities

I found these pokemon drawings I made when I was 7 and I am so pleased with my childhood priorities

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sure, sure, “planetary landscape” 2014

sure, sure, “planetary landscape” 2014

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pallas is a cool cat
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Spring // II

Friends are good.

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Spring // I

Blue ridge mountains

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— Whatever happened to dog days?

Summer rested like a monster.

Call it a heat flash?

The sun - swallowed, like a beast!

Remember its last show of hands,

the last stop-light afternoons spent

with you cupped in my arms -

Summer slept the sun away. The sun -

you swallowed the tidal wave!

You, who drew lines thicker than blood,

gone, Gone - Did you hear it?

The body that left bruises patched through my skin?

The bees hum through it,

the gnats purr through it,

and you: you buzz in heat with it,

and I: I search under every tree and every river for it,

wait for it, 

ask for it,

lengthen the nights of my days for it -

How is it that no one has ever prayed for us?

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Blue hair & aquarius tattoo // Kayla

Blue hair & aquarius tattoo // Kayla

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— on honesty

when has it ever been my intention to be clear?

left in light, with careful arm, arrow aimed straight between the eyes -

this cross is built from the dirt off the floor,

and my hands, they endlessly reach for you:

unyielding I am and still -

even my hands pull, knotting your gaze,

trying to milk away from my skin

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feeling weird/
/i will regret posting this nah, not happening

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— poem for things that ran out (letter 4)

1.
The small light of day creeping over your shoulders like how every night your shirts creep up the small of your back.
2.
Moving quicker than forests with a hand at your hip. A lasso turned toward the trees, a bellow left at your lips. Itching for mountains to run the softness out of fingers. Running out of softness in your voice with one hand at your ear and another at the crack of dawn waiting for winds to blow it away.
3.
Something to wrap your mouth around. Something to wrap your hopes with. Something to hold your stomach in.
4.
Tie your arms down with a prayer to the ghosts that lead you. Drive. Swap your eyes for windows. Trade your knees for gas. Where is the tunnel to hide your fog?
6.
Leave at the door all clothing and hold. There is a naked wind for you. There is a rain for you that is clean.
Now - of what is this body you call your own?
A soul that sells shelter for pocket change. A soul that tells stories to search for the one which can explain why, in times of absence, she laces her boots and smokes. She keeps no scars for the future.
This is an absence that is only half there.