𖤓 𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆
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promacos.bsky.social
𖤓 𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆
@promacos.bsky.social
5 followers 15 following 7 posts
Dyke, Doctor, Moved pirate, Muffled Whisper, Tiger lost in Amur.

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promacos.bsky.social
𖤓 𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆 @promacos.bsky.social · Dec 28
My old dog is sick, so I wrote something:
Oh, merciless Kronos, you who erode the world with your unfailing and patient passage, grant me just one more moment to love the soul I now cradle in my arms, a suspended sigh before the hourglass turns again. Ruthless Kronos, teach me to see that your hand is not cruel, that your silence is not born of malice but of the ancient and impartial law that all living beings must pass through. Let me understand that decay is not hatred, and that the end is not a punishment, but the silent price of having existed. Ruthless Kronos, allow me, if only in memory or in dreams, to revisit the youth of those I love, to contemplate them as they were before time left its mark on their faces, before love learned the language of loss. Let me return to that fragile and radiant state of being that exists only before death becomes a certainty and eternity a question too heavy to answer.
promacos.bsky.social
No country with a history of imperialism does anything for free.
Furthermore, a dictatorship has as many heads as a hydra.
If they only captured Maduro and left the other leaders alone, it was just a case of removing one king and replacing him with another.
January 3, 2026 at 11:07 AM
promacos.bsky.social
He's finally resting
Thank you for all these years, Kirby.
I'll always love you.
Shih Tzu white doggy, resting in a brown pillow.
January 3, 2026 at 10:10 AM
promacos.bsky.social
Male anatomy study
Digital drawing of a male seen from behind and slightly in profile, with both arms extended forward in a gesture of reach or entreaty. In soft, diluted greys against a textured beige ground reminiscent of aged paper. A silent appeal towards something just beyond grasp.
December 28, 2025 at 4:38 PM
promacos.bsky.social
My old dog is sick, so I wrote something:
Oh, merciless Kronos, you who erode the world with your unfailing and patient passage, grant me just one more moment to love the soul I now cradle in my arms, a suspended sigh before the hourglass turns again. Ruthless Kronos, teach me to see that your hand is not cruel, that your silence is not born of malice but of the ancient and impartial law that all living beings must pass through. Let me understand that decay is not hatred, and that the end is not a punishment, but the silent price of having existed. Ruthless Kronos, allow me, if only in memory or in dreams, to revisit the youth of those I love, to contemplate them as they were before time left its mark on their faces, before love learned the language of loss. Let me return to that fragile and radiant state of being that exists only before death becomes a certainty and eternity a question too heavy to answer.
December 28, 2025 at 4:34 PM