saint-sabeer-aminStar

22 / M / California
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the castrato that narrated my life is unemployedi always wondered who was singing tenor / permeated through my life events / an overly qualified voice
14
Apr 13
you know, i don't think i'd be a good fathermy left hand grips my bottom jaw / my right hand grips my top jaw / i stare through my forearm at this inhuman creature in the mirror
24
Apr 6
INKBLOT DREAMS; I THINK RORSCHACH WENT TO HEAVEN AND SAW YOUR NAMESAKEyour eyebrows furrow / it's something i've noticed you do when you are really focusing / or when you're extremely bored
35
Apr 4
saint sebastiando arrowheads feel despair / no one mentions his sullen, entrancing eyes / or the way his hair curls, falling in front of his eyes slightly
27
Mar 31
larkspurborn with the blood of ajax / a curse to want heroism / when it's all poison
25
Mar 28
migratory animals'obstacles' by syd matters plays in the background / she'd be able to find me hidden in any waterfall / just by the sound of the water droplets
15
Mar 2
grusshe found a constellation of a crane in our night sky / breathlessly, when the sun slept she rushed to see / if the stars that together built life were still there
14
Feb 23
subtle forms of LOVELET her see my soul she won't run from it / i'd have her travel through cuts on my body / it is a dream to have her sit in my neurons in the special way she sits
26
Feb 8
i woke up with butterflies in my esophagusthe person across from you / perhaps they see you beyond / what is written on you
20
Jan 5
ouroborosa serpent swallows its own tail, not out of hunger but because of an ancient compulsion to know itself. it forms a perfect circle, and occupies a space where neither life nor death are present. its scales glimmer under the light of a beginning that never ends. in its eyes are both the forbidden fruit and the final descent into entropy. the serpent was witness to humanity’s genesis and its follies, and it will be there when it all ceases in cold silence. within this ouroboros, time collapses, and each wound is sealed as it is made. / i sit in the middle of its circular form. like the shapes in nature we name but never understand, i cannot fathom it. it spirals slowly, indulging in the process of becoming and unbecoming. its stomach will never hunger, nor will it ever be full, yet it salivates, as though anticipation itself is sustenance. it is shadow made flesh, an assimilation of absence. the serpent whispers in tongues older than silence. it utilizes words that knot and unknot themselves, leaving only the taste of iron and eternity. i think it is telling me that to create is to destroy, to live is to die, and i am both the feeder and the fed. / does the serpent achieve immortality? will it slay itself to bring itself to life? to reincarnate in the same form yet with the knowledge of infinity. will it be born anew? a being born from the clash of opposites: head to tail, holy to sinful, everything to nothing. in this eternal cycle of self-consumption, it has eaten itself and i am witness to miracles.
4
Nov 10, 2025
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