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oh the flowers! smell so sweet I wish that I want to be a flower too oh hello little bird! it must be spring!
poem i wrote april 27th 2008
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@hotvintagepoll
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Reblogging would be a great help, but don’t feel pressured to
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oh no…. guys…. (<- brain is being consumed by new pathetic podcast characters)
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Reblogging would be a great help, but don’t feel pressured to
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From here
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If you notice me reblogging
a repost
stolen art
false information
etc.
please let me know, you’re not rude or annoying and I actually do give a fuck and I will correct my mistake, thank you
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she dungeon on my dragon till i roll for initiative
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*heavy southern accent*: terfs aint got no friends
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i think what’s on a person’s nightstand is very telling so reblog this and put in the tags the things you have on your nightstand
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let’s go lesbians
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dude seeing these Mega high quality images of the surface of mars that we now have has me fucked up. Like. Mars is a place. mars is a real actual place where one could hypothetically stand. It is a physical place in the universe. ITS JUST OUT THERE LOOKING LIKE UH IDK A REGULAR OLD DESERT WITH LOTS OF ROCKS BUT ITS A WHOLE OTHER PLANET? 
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the sun mourns in vain for the white-throated rail: a comic about disability and the unwanted able-bodied grief for past selves.
[IMAGE DESCRIPTION:
Page 1: The sun holds a white-throated rail, a bird with a red head, a gray body, and a white throat, in its hands. The sun speaks in a tone represented as sorrowful pity through a drippy speech bubble.
Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!
Rail: What?
Page 2:
Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!
The sun stands with a hand clutching its face.
Sun: How miserable it must be to be flightless! Don’t you yearn for the skies? Don’t you wake up grieving you’re still on land?
Page 3: The white-throated rail looks down in frustration in the hand of the sun.
Sun: (speaking off screen) I’d simply perish if I were you!
The rail speaks, looking down. Pink flowers bloom towards the bottom of the page, petals and pollen blowing in the wind.
Rail: Why do you put your words in my beak and your grief in my feathers? Am I not beautiful?
Page 4: The bone of a white-throated rail is positioned against a colorful galaxy dotted with flecks of stars.
Rail: Am I not adaptability in action? Am I not evolution in motion? Do you mourn the days you weren’t a star? Do you mourn when the sky was cold, how unbearably hot you must burn to keep embracing it every day?
Page 5: The sun looks at the viewer.
Sun: Why would I? That was then, this is now. I am content to be in this state.
Page 6: The rail looks up at the sun off-screen.
Rail: Well…So am I.
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never let being a girl stop you from being a boy
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