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I will talk to rivers
And walk into the sea
To ask the waves for answers,
Do we really need to breathe?

I will sing to landscapes
And whisper to the trees.
Play truth or dare with mountains
Then scream into the streams.

I'll cut my teeth on valleys,
Drawing blood in dreams.
Wake to find my veins are hollow
There was nothing left to bleed.

Now I find myself in exile,
Cast out from lands once known.
A martyr for a war not mine
But a heart that's cast in stone.
I see the shape of things
As they shift
And slowly change.

I feel the weight it brings
As they chisel
And carve their names.

As the clouds move through their lives
They stretch, and pull apart.
No cloud will ever be the way
It was back at its start.

Maybe we are as those clouds,
Reshaping as we go.
No need to be ashamed nor proud.
Simply travel where winds blow.

Maybe we could learn from them,
Who exist but do not fight.
Face reality with grace, and then
Do the same in the windy night.
We’ll hitchhike to mars
on a rocket not a car,
so say your au revoirs.

We’ll steer towards Polaris, the north star
right through the center of the milky-way-bar.
See, the universe is dark and chocolatey.

Stars that glitter like multi-faceted gems,
are just shiny, yellow, peanut M&Ms,
take a handful, if you’d like, they’re free.

We’ll dodge the silhouetted moon,
which is made of enough coconut macaroon,
to make a French confectioner swoon.

As we go streaking, like a comet’s tail,
drag a finger through Saturn’s rings as well,
those are made of marshmallow.

We’ll  pass nebulae made of cotton-kandi,
and here’s a fact Einstein would have found handy,
the speed of light doesn’t apply to candy.
.
.
Ramble on by Toni Jevicky
go to bed  •think bemusingly of you
loop (cond) { tomorrow }
I rise in the morning (5am),
jog an 8K  •thinking of you, wash up
drink some flavored, black coffee
watch the morning sun balloon
eat toast while reading a set amount
write my unique and uninteresting analysis
work on half a dozen, odd assignments
walk .8 miles to campus  •thinking of you
team up, with some older, uninteresting guys
interview a focus group, present dataset interpretations
walk .8 miles back to my flat  •thinking of you
eat while reading a set amount
go to bed  •think bemusingly of you
loop (cond) { tomorrow }
I rise in the morning (5am)…
.
.
Songs for this:
Falling Down a Well by Jack J
Overtime (pt 1) by Mk.gee  [E]
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 06/22/25:
bemused = confusion, bewildered and somewhat amused.

8k is just 5 miles - they always measure runs in kilometers,
I don't know why.
Illuminate all that is dark within me,
Bioluminescent pathways leading to a wishing well.
Cast your farthing and close your eyes,
Hear your wish through your lungs,
Breathe it into the mana waters,
And see how in me lies the arcane,
A world tree in nerves and blood,
I take root like a tooth,
And sow for you in a garden—
Indiscriminate truth.
Don't forget your coin!
RSD
Every little rejection
Every "I can't"
"Maybe"
Feels like I opened my chest
Giving them access to my heart
And they took it out
Twisted it
And put it back in bleeding
Rejection sensitive dysphoria is something I've always struggled with, even as a little kid. I know rationally that they don't hate me and aren't truly rejecting me, but I just feel like absolute **** every time. I'm not diagnosed with anything, but it makes me feel better about myself to think it's something medical and not just me ******* and being dramatic. Also, it's quite precise to what I feel sometimes so I call it that. Idk but yeah. Love you all ❤️❤️❤️
he tilts his head back when he laughs,
like joy is something he trusts will catch him.
he moves like music.
fluid, unbothered,
as if the world bends a little to let him through.

he talks with his hands,
but listens with his whole heart.
he remembers small things
like my favorite songs,
what makes me happy,
what time i usually start to spiral.

he’s the kind of boy who says “i miss you”
in between ordinary moments,
not afraid to feel with his whole heart,
and doesn’t shy away from mine either.

he works harder than anyone i’ve ever known.
he dresses his achievements
up as failures,
but he knows i see through it.

he’s gentle with people,
even when they’re not gentle with him.
he thinks too much,
but it’s only because he cares too much.

he believes he’s a mess.
i believe he’s a miracle.

and when he tells me he loves me,
it sounds like a promise
he made to himself
long before he met me.
a study of sean 🫶
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