Pinned toot

tenderly still,
somber seas,
the passing gusts
stir me gently

father, amateur poet, sincere, conflicted, frustrated, restless, vain, flawed and unapologetically human.

native Angeleno, looking for my creativity again

i care about empty words

hoping to find a home in this instance

Pretty sure I took some psychic damage looking at that reliquary of posts.

I don't think anyone (myself included) will ever know what bullshit I'm on.

It's impossible to know.

Today's the last day of 2018. Maximum effort.

We're listening to Chopin. She couldn't hang though.

Sifting through the wreckage of my timeline, faving and boosting the subtoots I see.
"Oh yeah, that's a good one, burn me to the ground." I laugh nervously, but there's no one left here anymore.
They're all inside a warm building with Louisa, laughing, and eating things with eggs on them, that shouldn't have eggs on them.
I press my face against the window, and for a moment I am one of them again.
Then DMX sees me, and pulls the shade down.
It starts to snow.

Jupiter and Venus greet me in the morning, en la madrugada. The wind stirs the leaves overhead. πŸƒ The sun rises in the East.

The mid-day sun exhaled. A warm breeze caresses your cheek. The tirade of the sun marches on.

Unfurl your leaves and reach up to grasp what you can't have. Lamento mucho lo que extraΓ±o. ExtraΓ±o tanto lo que no puede ser. The tirade of the sun marches on. β˜€οΈ

The 1000-year wood,

The ancient trees reclaim and recoup. Ivy wraps around abandoned structures, grass sprouts where rough roads were carved. Lesser known trails dissolve. The undergrowth returns faithfully, delicately. O'er the horizon, Empires rise and fall, but here the elder trees remain, as constant as the air we breathe.

Eventually all signs of trespass are engulfed.
The bubbling Brooks continue on their way.
The forest is eternal. 🌲🌲

There's moisture in the night air. Crickets can be heard here and there calling to each other. The wind gently moves the canopy overhead.

You can hear the leaves gently rustling. It's a clear night and the moon is shining brightly. The clearings are illuminated in the blue light.

An owl hoots gently, somewhere above you.

Suddenly, the air becomes very still. You awake from your dream.

Weary, I'm weary.
To wake, it's quite dreary.

Leave me in night
The world seems a blight
So haggard a sight
I'm convinced to know sleep is the only delight

The world seems quite bleak
Solace I seek
For just a small sleep

Just let me sleep awhile longer.

My demeanor is grim
My outlook is dim

I have no explanation
As to the cause of these vexations

When the sun shines bright,
When wrongs are made right,
I am blue, deeply and passionately blue.

I know for naught,
Why I am so distraught

Depends on whom you ask, methinks
To be fair, the logic just isn't there

My life is not particularly in disrepair,
Inexplicably I still feel despair

I am blue

BjΓΆrk's musical works span various genres of music, but they all feel so uniquely human. Earnest, genuine, and vulnerable. Also she's a qt.

I haven't been on Twitter for half a year and the only thing I miss is BjΓΆrk's account.

Walking past one of those cars with the novelty eyelashes on and pointing out to your significant other, "Is it weird that I want to fuck this car now?"

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Social @ PV

Social is the primary social media platform for the forth coming fourth version of Play Vicious, a new initiative built to bring attention to the plethora of creative acts that don't get the shine they deserve.
For more details about the project and how to support, go here.