"But There Is A Clarity About September. On Clear Days, The Sun Seems Brighter, The Sky More Blue, The

Men So Ghastly

Our brothers that supported and cheered for us When did they turn into mysogynists who leered at us When do sons turn into the very monster mothers warn their daughters about When do the boys we played with start believing in the words some idiots spout How can he be a doting father a moment and a bloody molester in the next Since when was stalking romantic, was consent only to be found in an old text I ask a question, so many whispered to their soul so quietly How did the boys so lovely, grow into men so ghastly? Was it the society that poisoned young minds to force us apart Did it shape those malleable minds into an axe that cleaves our heart Was it the wrong parenting, that somehow instilled these ideas of superiority Gave their children the ridiculous notions of being the ultimate authority But then how did siblings grow up to have ideologies so different The fault never truly laid solely at the feet of their parent If they were born that way then how do brothers differ so. If it's the peer pressure then where did the conscience go? Should the question be flipped to look at what some did right? Instead of only looking for the faults of the ones that went off the light These men that respect everyone, where were they brought up? These that talk instead of hitting when a disagreement does flare up I hope for a world where they aren't like a needle in a haystack A world where women don't always have a set of eyes on their back A world where the girls can play into the night with the boys Where a girl doesn't lose her innocence at an age to play with toys

-Sharma

Thrilling ache

In the hush of winter’s embrace

she stood on a terrace

both bitter and divine

where moonlight drapes

a silken shroud

seeming to seek 

a love unfound

a touch that slips 

through ghostly fingers

each breath a mist

a fading prayer

to share one breath

a thrilling ache

each night a kiss

a prayer, a plea

the shadow she couldn’t set free

silhouette of silk and grief

fingers light

tracing fate

where throbbing hearts 

lose their beat

her body bends

but not her soul

her silver eyes, once bold

now tremble

desperate for him

not for me

chasing shadows

a heart in endless flight

reading books like the secret history is always such a wild ride, because i'm fully aware that it's a criticism of aesthetic hedonism and the elitism of academia, and then i'll read a line like " if we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look at that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. then spit us out reborn" and i go absolutely fucking feral.

i am aware of the problems. however. i would rather be comfy in my bed. good night.

went on the mistiest foggiest hike this weekend

This Is Going to Hurt 1x06

a colorful, caffeinated, calm fall weekend spent in the company of research papers and friends 😌 🍂

We can sometimes stop and appreciate the scenery. Then time will gradually being to flow more quickly. Time will slip away, and we won't be able to do anything about it. We'll enjoy all the happiness that life grants us.

gentle reminder: you are very capable and I’m excited for your future

I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM