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plutosfallenangel · 2 months
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If I was being hunted through the woods I’d be a bit chill and sexy about it tbh
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plutosfallenangel · 4 months
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plutosfallenangel · 5 months
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(Trying to flirt) if we were in a time loop together I would try to save you every time even if I knew it was futile. I would go insane for you
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plutosfallenangel · 6 months
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plutosfallenangel · 7 months
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Vasily Alexandrovich Kotarbinsky (1894-1921)
Dark Star
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plutosfallenangel · 7 months
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Psyche Weeping, Kinuko Y. Craft
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plutosfallenangel · 9 months
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'Treasure' by Norman Lindsay, 1925
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plutosfallenangel · 10 months
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Gaston Bogaert (detail)
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plutosfallenangel · 10 months
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Charles Vess for Neil Gaiman's 'Stardust'
St
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plutosfallenangel · 10 months
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I don’t wanna leave here.
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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Landis Blair, Premonition (2020)
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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Mangos beneath the surface - a short poem
They don't see you like I see you, they don't see the beauty that walks upon you like I do. They don't understand how harsh the cherries grow without sunshine, I thought that by now they'd have smartned up, they always tell me I'm wrong. They don't see what rich rhymes hum beneath your barron surface, captured as deep as the breath I take from what you have to offer, melting somewhere slowly in-between the bright groves of mangos. I always did love your mangos you know. No one sees you like I see you.
What waste is the sky when you're working for the man, have not a piece of heaven to call your own. Bring the soil back to life, see the mango groves in full bloom. Unfaithful to the fruitfulness of what they bare. Barehanded. Stepping upon the once colorful groves, shades of red and orange we once laid our eyes on with love.
Love to be back there, a place where the world wasn't ours but we were the world. The world still spins, despite all your efforts to overthrow its eternal axis. Resilience. I am a child of the axis. Revolution.
A revolution not grown by the hand of politics but by the branches laid upon once rich groves. Mango groves. I always did love your mangos. No one sees you like I see you.
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03/24 - a manifesto of our live-giving world
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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Because when I fall into the abyss, I go straight into it, head down and heels up […]
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from ‘The Brothers Karamazov’, tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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The Victim of the Nile, oil on canvas. — Wilhelm Kotarbiński (Polish, 1848-1921)
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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For those who chose their moon sign to be the most resonating to their music interest, please let me know below what your moon sign is and what genre(s) you listen to!
Music preferences + natal
Do you feel like you resonate more with your moon, venus, neptune or 12H sign when it comes to your music taste? And if you can pick one, let me know the following if possible in the comments:
•Which planet + sign it's in
•Music genre's + listening preference
•Aspects to planet
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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Ascendance - a short poem
I've worn that knitted sweater a thousand times over. Dark and desecrated or so it once was. The doorway with three dents, in my mind walking through a passageway to another dimension. Another time, a place much warmer than where you or I have felt. Bearing the frays unraveled with time, I found myself looking through the window of a memory.
Enamored with your artwork, paintings scattered about your walls that lay parallel to the sidewalks. Sometimes I walk past, just to catch a memory or two. It's been too many years to count since you laid your head upon those oversized pillows, but still, the encapsulating trance I felt in each step passing lead me closer to a yearning long left behind.
A yearning not to be painted blue nor for you and your scattered artwork. Missing a feeling that I thought I could find in-between four walls. Walls that lay parallel to the sidewalks. I walk effortlessly through my mind backward in time, back to a time when we only knew what was right in front of us.
I'll take you back, not to those four walls but somewhere more permanent. Somewhere you can be tucked away. Safekeeping. Nothing really felt colorful until the free invitation sat firmly on my lap. The door with three dents spoke to me, gave me endless warmth and eventually lead me to a flight of stairs. A stairway only I could see. Something only accessible in those four walls that lay parallel to the sidewalks.
But to my demise, as I ascended the staircase laid not by copper but by kindness, you slowly disappeared. What I had seemingly left behind many lives ago was finally returned to me once I reached the top. Top of mind when I shuffle my cards the wrong way, I thought you said I'd get better eventually but so it goes not all birds can fly.
I wonder where you've flown as I walk past the place where I once read upon those oversized pillows, imagining the lines drawn all over the wall, the colours, the lack of banisters, and the overabundance of banter throughout the night. Night walks through the grass. Barefoot. Bare down to nothing. Secrets we'll never tell. Still got that four-leaf clover? I've worn that knitted sweater a thousand times over.
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(Summer'14) past reflection manifesto
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plutosfallenangel · 1 year
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Moonlit Dreams by Gabriel Ferrier (1874)
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