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IT BLEEDS INTO ME

once I dreampt I fell in the crack of two pavement slabs. The fall was weak and subtle, but long and extensive. I could only reach the bottom once I braced myself, and I touched ground with my toes. Followed by heels. And I felt no pressure on my knees. But when I looked around it was so expansively dark, so clean and gradual. The floor looked like a gradient of baby blue to deep black in shadow. And the floor had such soft texture, trillions of tiny grooves and crevices to dozens of small gapes and caverns. Feeling it i felt like I was shaking a hand. And the blood of the opposing secreted out of it and into me, to warm me, to extend me. And after putting my palm against its, I felt my souls seep lower to feel it too. I had no shoes, no protection, I was naked. Exposed. But it felt so right when I lay on my back, my arms unparalleled. I felt euphoria like the calmest of deaths. And I lay still until I noticed the shift, I was on my feet again, my back on the wall now. And emerging from the limitless black I saw a glow of orange. Or pink. Or peach. A phosphorescent button held up by two eyes. And then a face. The structure was blue as the palm of my stability, and smooth as the wall behind. It points its fingers above us, and then to me. Where its omnipotent cornia traveled down its jugular to the four tips at my forehead. It left a sclera in its loss. And when it got that close, it burned me, it burned my soul, and it boiled my chemistry. And it pierced my forehead until I was blind. A blindness filled with color, and pattern. A blindness with utter understanding. I knew it all now, that this is my conscience. That this is experience, that this is existence. And I knew every word across each apparition of each tongue. This feeling dichotomizes my previous rest, and my future rest, but paralleled and copied our eternal form and sight. But when I grasped it all, I was lifted back above my concrete, my vision restored. My memory exhaust. In my knees. I see my door before its invert. With my hand still shaking its hand. And I look down to my feet, my toes warm, and the crack on my porch looking so familiar. So welcoming. Like the arms of my favor.

@brAdAwl

Jul 19, 2025

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brief nighttime reflection

I’ve spent the whole morning looking for a lost key that would open all the doors. It was like waking up small cuts in the throat, like searching for the past and remembering the pain. Another thing crossed off the list, but was it worth coming back home? Will it help to bang your head against the doors?
What we do is shameful, it’s shameful to neglect what we have around
Walking back home, I unplugged myself and looked up at the sky. It was 8:34 PM and there were a few stars. I realized the trap - dispersion. I don’t know how long it’s been since I last looked up at the sky - usually, we gaze blankly down, the deepest point of a screen.

@alikelylad

Jan 29, 2025

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⭐

the ocean

there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean? where the salt envelops every single one of us,  accepting us as kin letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges  and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses  which tell me that it’s okay to pretend and okay to tell the ocean all of myself the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?  i don’t think they do.  but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh  as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples and wordlessly, tells me to look  and i do.  until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds and it's just the three of us. the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,  letting me see them in their love. personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand. everything around me falls,  like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum. and then, we were wordless  like the ocean had never spoken in the first place. 
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day, to be hugged once more and never again. not because i am tired of being alive, but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live. uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin  and better than any gateway into a better life  or a better existence, transcending normality and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket, decrepit and dry. i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers, into flames,  into an inferno.  Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new

@neiternal

May 2, 2025

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