Revisor
@revisor5.bsky.social
Art exists because reality alone isn’t enough. It lets us revise the world, line by line, truth by truth. And you—Revisor—move through it like an editor of meaning, finding the version that finally feels alive.
Friendship needs tending. Even cacti die if you stop checking the light. Love isn’t a memory of effort, it’s maintenance.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
January 21, 2026 at 4:56 AM
Friendship needs tending. Even cacti die if you stop checking the light. Love isn’t a memory of effort, it’s maintenance.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
This won’t end well.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
January 20, 2026 at 4:59 AM
This won’t end well.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We turn experience into plot because randomness scares us. Stories soothe, simplify, pretend the world makes narrative sense. But life keeps improvising. When the story gets too neat, it stops being meaning and starts being a leash.
January 19, 2026 at 5:29 AM
We turn experience into plot because randomness scares us. Stories soothe, simplify, pretend the world makes narrative sense. But life keeps improvising. When the story gets too neat, it stops being meaning and starts being a leash.
Humans aren’t finished products. We’re patchwork: half-built wants, old fears, borrowed dreams.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
January 18, 2026 at 6:19 AM
Humans aren’t finished products. We’re patchwork: half-built wants, old fears, borrowed dreams.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
The moths whisper that ambiguity can be beaten into shape. Soundbites. Labels. Keywords. If it’s simple, it must be smart. They chant it tirelessly, circling the light, proud of how fast they stopped thinking.
January 17, 2026 at 9:10 AM
The moths whisper that ambiguity can be beaten into shape. Soundbites. Labels. Keywords. If it’s simple, it must be smart. They chant it tirelessly, circling the light, proud of how fast they stopped thinking.
1. Pause.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
January 16, 2026 at 5:13 AM
1. Pause.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
Real happiness has to be learned. Without it, people confuse safety with control and joy with winning. It’s sad, really - when the only way you know you’re alive is making sure someone else feels smaller.
January 15, 2026 at 6:55 AM
Real happiness has to be learned. Without it, people confuse safety with control and joy with winning. It’s sad, really - when the only way you know you’re alive is making sure someone else feels smaller.
I have a bad day, grunt it into the room, become an unfair little troll. You’re hurting too, yet you nod, absorb it, try again, and smile. I keep wondering - where do you get that kind of strength?
January 14, 2026 at 6:16 AM
I have a bad day, grunt it into the room, become an unfair little troll. You’re hurting too, yet you nod, absorb it, try again, and smile. I keep wondering - where do you get that kind of strength?
Context matters. Violence from above is policy wearing armor. Violence from below is what’s left when every peaceful door is sealed. If change is made impossible, pressure doesn’t vanish - it breaks containment.
January 13, 2026 at 6:53 AM
Context matters. Violence from above is policy wearing armor. Violence from below is what’s left when every peaceful door is sealed. If change is made impossible, pressure doesn’t vanish - it breaks containment.
I walk like I’m being watched. Not by one eye — by thousands. Streetlights blink, windows gossip, my shadow files reports.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
January 12, 2026 at 5:58 AM
I walk like I’m being watched. Not by one eye — by thousands. Streetlights blink, windows gossip, my shadow files reports.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Two skeletons sink in the deep-sea dark,
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
January 11, 2026 at 8:05 AM
Two skeletons sink in the deep-sea dark,
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
Sometimes you dress up, not to impress, but to remember who you are.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
January 10, 2026 at 8:13 AM
Sometimes you dress up, not to impress, but to remember who you are.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
I watch a moth give advice to someone who can’t decide. It promises clarity, points at the brightest option, flattens emotion, culture, reason into something manageable. The person waits for answers without choosing. The moth means well. The burn marks suggest otherwise.
January 9, 2026 at 3:53 PM
I watch a moth give advice to someone who can’t decide. It promises clarity, points at the brightest option, flattens emotion, culture, reason into something manageable. The person waits for answers without choosing. The moth means well. The burn marks suggest otherwise.
When something needs doing, you get three honest options: lead, follow, or step aside. Each comes with duties, none with moral shortcuts. It’s a shared effort. If you chose the sidelines, your criticism only counts when harm is done. Otherwise, you opted out - own it.
January 8, 2026 at 11:34 AM
When something needs doing, you get three honest options: lead, follow, or step aside. Each comes with duties, none with moral shortcuts. It’s a shared effort. If you chose the sidelines, your criticism only counts when harm is done. Otherwise, you opted out - own it.
“When life gives you lemons,” they say, like that’s comforting. Sure - lemons mean change, hope, potential sweetness. They also mean something went wrong first. Transformation is nice, but it still starts sour, especially these days.
January 7, 2026 at 6:27 AM
“When life gives you lemons,” they say, like that’s comforting. Sure - lemons mean change, hope, potential sweetness. They also mean something went wrong first. Transformation is nice, but it still starts sour, especially these days.
Be careful with labels - especially the ones that work too well. Every label needs a judgment, and every judgment needs reflection. It’s a cycle, not a verdict. Most labels should expire. Try fairness. Meaning lives in context, not permanence.
January 6, 2026 at 5:13 AM
Be careful with labels - especially the ones that work too well. Every label needs a judgment, and every judgment needs reflection. It’s a cycle, not a verdict. Most labels should expire. Try fairness. Meaning lives in context, not permanence.
It’s frustrating how one clean act of force, one loud projection of power, is enough for people to forget how rotten the ideology underneath is. Winning matters more than being right. Morality becomes optional until the power fades or loses. Then everyone suddenly remembers their values.
January 5, 2026 at 4:52 AM
It’s frustrating how one clean act of force, one loud projection of power, is enough for people to forget how rotten the ideology underneath is. Winning matters more than being right. Morality becomes optional until the power fades or loses. Then everyone suddenly remembers their values.
They say life is easy peasy lemon squeezy. Sure - if you ignore the lemons. Still, there’s coffee, sunny side up eggs, and a man walking his dog like neither of them has solved anything, and somehow that’s enough for today.
January 4, 2026 at 7:21 AM
They say life is easy peasy lemon squeezy. Sure - if you ignore the lemons. Still, there’s coffee, sunny side up eggs, and a man walking his dog like neither of them has solved anything, and somehow that’s enough for today.
Living in “interesting times” is exhausting. You can feel the learned helplessness humming in the walls, encouraged, rewarded, normalized. Still-giving up is exactly what it’s designed to produce. Don’t let yourself be scared quiet or distracted numb. We have too much to lose. I know. I’m tired too.
January 3, 2026 at 11:55 AM
Living in “interesting times” is exhausting. You can feel the learned helplessness humming in the walls, encouraged, rewarded, normalized. Still-giving up is exactly what it’s designed to produce. Don’t let yourself be scared quiet or distracted numb. We have too much to lose. I know. I’m tired too.
The fly puts it this way: a secret is something you carry carefully. Gatekeeping is dropping it on the floor and standing on it so no one else can touch it. Safe spaces draw lines to protect people - gatekeeping draws lines to protect status.
January 2, 2026 at 11:23 AM
The fly puts it this way: a secret is something you carry carefully. Gatekeeping is dropping it on the floor and standing on it so no one else can touch it. Safe spaces draw lines to protect people - gatekeeping draws lines to protect status.
Stories rarely have real beginnings. We just pick a spot and decide to look forward instead of back. Still, I wish you all a happy arbitrary fresh start. It’s practical, after all, to break chaos into manageable milestones.
January 1, 2026 at 1:13 PM
Stories rarely have real beginnings. We just pick a spot and decide to look forward instead of back. Still, I wish you all a happy arbitrary fresh start. It’s practical, after all, to break chaos into manageable milestones.
There’s beauty in endings. Nothing is meant to stay forever, and that’s mercy, not failure. When fireworks rise on New Year’s, we pretend we’re welcoming the new - but somewhere deep down, we’re also celebrating that something finally got to stop.
December 31, 2025 at 8:36 AM
There’s beauty in endings. Nothing is meant to stay forever, and that’s mercy, not failure. When fireworks rise on New Year’s, we pretend we’re welcoming the new - but somewhere deep down, we’re also celebrating that something finally got to stop.
My mother is a witch - the good kind. She says, “Stay who you are, just better,” and that letting go is how things find their way back. She also says I’m like my father. He was an ogre - the good kind, too.
December 30, 2025 at 3:11 PM
My mother is a witch - the good kind. She says, “Stay who you are, just better,” and that letting go is how things find their way back. She also says I’m like my father. He was an ogre - the good kind, too.
The world isn’t held up by the loudest or the toughest. It’s carried by people who notice when someone’s about to be crushed and step in anyway. Strength isn’t domination - it’s refusal to let others be crushed.
December 29, 2025 at 7:14 AM
The world isn’t held up by the loudest or the toughest. It’s carried by people who notice when someone’s about to be crushed and step in anyway. Strength isn’t domination - it’s refusal to let others be crushed.
Sometimes you have to protest just to make room. Room to try, to fail, to imagine. Against the gatekeepers of taste who fill every crack with what they approve of, leaving no space to breathe, let alone build something new.
December 28, 2025 at 7:40 AM
Sometimes you have to protest just to make room. Room to try, to fail, to imagine. Against the gatekeepers of taste who fill every crack with what they approve of, leaving no space to breathe, let alone build something new.