@yestertempest.bsky.social
Forever the neighborhood abecedarian who left his peacoat vent stitched with two threads, breathed in, obtuse to the sorrows within him, a dozen grocer-roses prideful but still, siphoning money from checking to therapist as weather beads slow on the glass he just broke
September 2, 2025 at 3:28 PM
Forever the neighborhood abecedarian who left his peacoat vent stitched with two threads, breathed in, obtuse to the sorrows within him, a dozen grocer-roses prideful but still, siphoning money from checking to therapist as weather beads slow on the glass he just broke
There's no joy in wondering what Mark Wahlberg is up to today.
June 10, 2025 at 3:44 PM
There's no joy in wondering what Mark Wahlberg is up to today.
When will AI become athiest and stop believing in the existence of humans? Where do I get tickets for that show?
June 2, 2025 at 12:37 AM
When will AI become athiest and stop believing in the existence of humans? Where do I get tickets for that show?
Technically a mother, not by actions,
she puts her cold hands to the spigot to
hold cool water as if it were her son,
grown and slipped through fingertips.
Technically alive and well though
she mourns him, justifies her prison.
Held a job and named a cat, she's
grown into sorrow self-sufficient.
she puts her cold hands to the spigot to
hold cool water as if it were her son,
grown and slipped through fingertips.
Technically alive and well though
she mourns him, justifies her prison.
Held a job and named a cat, she's
grown into sorrow self-sufficient.
May 22, 2025 at 6:48 PM
Technically a mother, not by actions,
she puts her cold hands to the spigot to
hold cool water as if it were her son,
grown and slipped through fingertips.
Technically alive and well though
she mourns him, justifies her prison.
Held a job and named a cat, she's
grown into sorrow self-sufficient.
she puts her cold hands to the spigot to
hold cool water as if it were her son,
grown and slipped through fingertips.
Technically alive and well though
she mourns him, justifies her prison.
Held a job and named a cat, she's
grown into sorrow self-sufficient.
“No amount of advice can make you listen to advice.”
He stormed out of the pub and proposed anyway. Six years later he returned with a wallet full of photos and barely enough money for a drink.
“We should do this more often.” he said, and I started to cry.
“I loved you, you know.”
He stormed out of the pub and proposed anyway. Six years later he returned with a wallet full of photos and barely enough money for a drink.
“We should do this more often.” he said, and I started to cry.
“I loved you, you know.”
May 22, 2025 at 12:19 AM
“No amount of advice can make you listen to advice.”
He stormed out of the pub and proposed anyway. Six years later he returned with a wallet full of photos and barely enough money for a drink.
“We should do this more often.” he said, and I started to cry.
“I loved you, you know.”
He stormed out of the pub and proposed anyway. Six years later he returned with a wallet full of photos and barely enough money for a drink.
“We should do this more often.” he said, and I started to cry.
“I loved you, you know.”
Tom Sink slapped his greasy paw on the ball of my shoulder like it'd be a comfort, pointed out to the mountains where the sun had gone hiding, and made the kind of promise that can't be kept.
May 22, 2025 at 12:16 AM
Tom Sink slapped his greasy paw on the ball of my shoulder like it'd be a comfort, pointed out to the mountains where the sun had gone hiding, and made the kind of promise that can't be kept.