There Are Soft Things In The World My Child;

"One might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity."

- Stephen King, The Gunslinger

sonnet for the uncanonical, 2025

written for two-bees escapril; the prompts are 'sonnet' (week one) and 'apocrypha' (day three). i will admit that this is probably only partially a sonnet; i've never been great with meter, but the rhyme scheme and structure is mostly there! i think. either way, i had fun challenging myself.

The texture of running water

Something rotten, yet divine.

Prints

Eyes are for sight and for tears, and it cries at what it sees

I hope Nael knows their poem made me cry

- Vincent Van Gogh

Someday will be better

One day you wake up and you live alone, even with two flatmates, and you buy your own groceries, when you can afford it, and you go to class and work and sometimes the gym. And you go to the doctor, and the dentist, and your therapist and your friend’s house, and you take the medicine that keeps you from killing yourself, and you get out in the sunshine and eat food that fills you and make barely enough money to stay alive anyway, and someday will be better, you know that, but someday isn’t today, and today your jaw is clenched and your thoughts are shrieks that hate your friends and someday will be better, but right now it’s all you can do to make ramen so you don’t have to use a knife because someday will be better and you better be around to see it, and your clenched jaw turns to gritted teeth and you can’t bring yourself to shower but damnit, you brush your teeth and think that someday will be better, and your gums bleed when you floss and you want to scream but you’ve been stopped up like a forgotten bottle of wine and you’re not sure you know how to anymore, and now you’ve been staring at your bleeding gums and the void in your gut aches and you --

collapse in bed. 

You remember how to breathe.

Your heart is here. Your lungs are here. There is quiet between your thoughts.

You are here.

And someday will be better.

Where I'm From, George Ella Lyon

𝘈𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 💐💙✨