@scruffed.bsky.social
amd then I bust in the waves
March 4, 2025 at 1:21 AM
amd then I bust in the waves
February 7, 2025 at 5:03 AM
yes. this is it.
February 7, 2025 at 4:19 AM
yes. this is it.
When cats have a face
February 7, 2025 at 4:17 AM
When cats have a face
7.Paganini's violin concertos resonate with the feeling of fingertips tight and sore with practice, and the warmth of my smile at the applause of the crowds. The sharp quick movement matching my heartbeat as my nerves kept me strung tight. Perfect, I was perfect so long as they watched, and loved me
January 3, 2025 at 7:08 AM
7.Paganini's violin concertos resonate with the feeling of fingertips tight and sore with practice, and the warmth of my smile at the applause of the crowds. The sharp quick movement matching my heartbeat as my nerves kept me strung tight. Perfect, I was perfect so long as they watched, and loved me
6.That's it. I find the next memory with music. tchaikovesky 1812 overture. muffled through the walls of a dark dressing room as my first kiss was willingly stolen. A handsome brass player with his hand placed against the back of my neck. I was his instrument. I hum along and nothing listens, sated.
January 3, 2025 at 7:03 AM
6.That's it. I find the next memory with music. tchaikovesky 1812 overture. muffled through the walls of a dark dressing room as my first kiss was willingly stolen. A handsome brass player with his hand placed against the back of my neck. I was his instrument. I hum along and nothing listens, sated.
5. still I am humming vivaldi. Mother, I can barely remember your laugh but I remember your singing and that is close. You would sing lists, the names of your children, your favorite chocolates, you would sing the schedule for the day. Anything you needed to remember as you were robbed of thought.
January 3, 2025 at 6:56 AM
5. still I am humming vivaldi. Mother, I can barely remember your laugh but I remember your singing and that is close. You would sing lists, the names of your children, your favorite chocolates, you would sing the schedule for the day. Anything you needed to remember as you were robbed of thought.
4. I cannot forget these too. Reaching into my mind with inexperienced hands I brush against the smell of cold night and green. when I listened to beautiful music as it drifted over a hedge on the edge of the lords garden. I wasn't supposed to be there. I feel it turn to sand and spill out my grasp.
January 3, 2025 at 6:52 AM
4. I cannot forget these too. Reaching into my mind with inexperienced hands I brush against the smell of cold night and green. when I listened to beautiful music as it drifted over a hedge on the edge of the lords garden. I wasn't supposed to be there. I feel it turn to sand and spill out my grasp.
3. Is it me humming? Delightful. To think I could hum. In this void, this empty. I failed to realize I was here. If the nothingness cannot give me something, there is nothing (hah) preventing me from creating something. Wait. If I lose my memories, won't I lose this too. music. So many left unhummed
January 3, 2025 at 6:47 AM
3. Is it me humming? Delightful. To think I could hum. In this void, this empty. I failed to realize I was here. If the nothingness cannot give me something, there is nothing (hah) preventing me from creating something. Wait. If I lose my memories, won't I lose this too. music. So many left unhummed
2. I suppose I will continue to reduce like this until nothing is left. Will that be the end? That would be merciful. Just as I think this I notice something. A humming. Vivaldi. La primavera. Spring, usually it evoked the feeling of a baby deer and gentle wonder. Now I feel the spring wolves hunger
January 3, 2025 at 6:44 AM
2. I suppose I will continue to reduce like this until nothing is left. Will that be the end? That would be merciful. Just as I think this I notice something. A humming. Vivaldi. La primavera. Spring, usually it evoked the feeling of a baby deer and gentle wonder. Now I feel the spring wolves hunger
1. Is this hell? This nothing? No light, or feeling, worst of all no sound. How long has this purgatory wrapped me in it's wool. I can feel myself starting to empty, time is meaningless but I can count its passing in how much I have forgotten. Most of my childhood is gone, though I fail to mourn it.
January 3, 2025 at 6:36 AM
1. Is this hell? This nothing? No light, or feeling, worst of all no sound. How long has this purgatory wrapped me in it's wool. I can feel myself starting to empty, time is meaningless but I can count its passing in how much I have forgotten. Most of my childhood is gone, though I fail to mourn it.
