fluorescentpearl
Siin me kohtume siis, See on ju armastus hĂĽperbolo
- Jul 19, 2026
- 692
Raindrops and thunderstorms, the chilling breeze once a door is cracked open, cool skin surfaces that exhale warmth from within
The lingering softness of a forehead kiss, a whispered name which only your ears can hear, the lovely open secret hidden among the chaos of this world.. There is something wonderful to returning to your roots, mine of which are so hastily fastened to an existence of pious gentility, I feel as though every man I might give my heart to will have to wield the hands of a father, as I am far too fragile to be treated as a superior, as an equal for lack of better terms.. A little lady in a loving cage is what I enjoy viewing myself as, to be adored and viewed in endearment, as I dote and adore him in return
There's such a beauty in the ephemeral, perhaps a beauty I see out of self-soothing hypocrisy, despising myself for my weakness yet adoring the agonizing minute life of a butterfly, of a moth, the everchanging shape of a wave, the darkness that escapes every morning at dawn, how each breath is entirely different, how each human that's walked this earth has bled and thought and loved and it is all left in the wind whilst their corpses vanish and rot
The flicker of a candle, smoke's artistic shapes, the music of nature, it is all so beautiful, and yet why do I not wish to live to stay in it?
Perhaps because all of it is worthless in the eyes of the modern man, the modern man has no place for feeling and ephemeral beauties, for languid monotony and gentle desires, it is all rushed, all mudded up into a mess that I cannot stand to see, not with eyes but with heart.. Perhaps that is why I cannot bear to live, the cold iron world, the steel prison we have placed ourselves in..
Fragile as I am, can I truly resist in such a harsh box? It slits my soft skin, it rubs against my hair, there is no way that I can survive in it for longer, a pearl inside a thorn shell is how I feel
Perhaps it will smoothen me into a beauty, or perhaps it will grind me to dust
I am unsure, once again it's all I can say
It is beautiful, insignificant in the face of technology, the arts are being forgotten, the tenderness is being replaced, it is all becoming meaningless.. I can only hope for salvation, a disaster to rid the world of it's miraculously horrific designs, return it to how it used to be, word spoken, affection felt, art inspired, life with a meaning, not hidden behind a metallic glass mirror in which we all stare at hypnotized and amazed as our minds degrade and falter
I feel weakness is a gift, mine is at least, I wish it soothed and cared for, I wished to be nestled and used and loved
My rant for today is done
The lingering softness of a forehead kiss, a whispered name which only your ears can hear, the lovely open secret hidden among the chaos of this world.. There is something wonderful to returning to your roots, mine of which are so hastily fastened to an existence of pious gentility, I feel as though every man I might give my heart to will have to wield the hands of a father, as I am far too fragile to be treated as a superior, as an equal for lack of better terms.. A little lady in a loving cage is what I enjoy viewing myself as, to be adored and viewed in endearment, as I dote and adore him in return
There's such a beauty in the ephemeral, perhaps a beauty I see out of self-soothing hypocrisy, despising myself for my weakness yet adoring the agonizing minute life of a butterfly, of a moth, the everchanging shape of a wave, the darkness that escapes every morning at dawn, how each breath is entirely different, how each human that's walked this earth has bled and thought and loved and it is all left in the wind whilst their corpses vanish and rot
The flicker of a candle, smoke's artistic shapes, the music of nature, it is all so beautiful, and yet why do I not wish to live to stay in it?
Perhaps because all of it is worthless in the eyes of the modern man, the modern man has no place for feeling and ephemeral beauties, for languid monotony and gentle desires, it is all rushed, all mudded up into a mess that I cannot stand to see, not with eyes but with heart.. Perhaps that is why I cannot bear to live, the cold iron world, the steel prison we have placed ourselves in..
Fragile as I am, can I truly resist in such a harsh box? It slits my soft skin, it rubs against my hair, there is no way that I can survive in it for longer, a pearl inside a thorn shell is how I feel
Perhaps it will smoothen me into a beauty, or perhaps it will grind me to dust
I am unsure, once again it's all I can say
It is beautiful, insignificant in the face of technology, the arts are being forgotten, the tenderness is being replaced, it is all becoming meaningless.. I can only hope for salvation, a disaster to rid the world of it's miraculously horrific designs, return it to how it used to be, word spoken, affection felt, art inspired, life with a meaning, not hidden behind a metallic glass mirror in which we all stare at hypnotized and amazed as our minds degrade and falter
I feel weakness is a gift, mine is at least, I wish it soothed and cared for, I wished to be nestled and used and loved
My rant for today is done
