What is your biggest inspiration? Also what is your favorite movie? Random, I know.
my biggest inspirations for poetry are definitely @euo, @dictionaryghost, @veincold, and @downurs
I don’t really have inspiration for my art or music honestly
My friends are my inspiration for life
I don’t have a favorite movie but I really really like Room and The Shining
Hello there! (Is it okay if we use the term "dear" or "friend" when we refer to you?). Also, how does the man who used to write poetry view me? He's still occasionally suggestive but he's so hard to read. He's older than I am.Thank you! :)
Hi! of course you can. I’d love it very much, call me anything you would like!
Tarot card that popped out: Knight of Pentacles (reversed). Lacks imagination and follow-through. Content to let things slide. That’s most-likely why he is occasionally suggestive. But don’t expect anything more until he finally can follow-through with things. That is based on the second card pulled: Two of Pentacles. He is trying to balance his life with his social life. That also seems to be the reason why he “used to” write poetry. Definitely very hard to read.
I hope this helps a bit. Sending you positive vibes!
definir el poema gusto por lo ajeno de qué hablan las horas y qué escriben las bocas
definir el sol rayos ultraviolentos del pasado en un continuo de fiel reproducción cromática combustión en el constante lleno del vacío
de qué habla el otro de dónde viene? las risas son la herencia de las conversaciones? ahora alguien ríe, y en otro lugar, la risa es un recordatorio viajar con vos por el mundo es el sueño neoliberal? la estética existe? de más de trece mil millones de ojos cuántos nos corresponden? 1,53⁽⁻¹⁰⁾% del total? y si parpadeo? cuántas veces nos pasamos el peine de los piojos? por qué importa menos que el amor? te acordás de los mates y cafés con tu viejo? estás seguro? el positivismo se permite recordar? se permite preguntar? por qué no nos decimos la verdad? si las nubes son la evaporación de lo no dicho y las tormentas son propias, el sol nos cromatiza hacia el olvido?
definir la interacción expliquémonos adivinar es para los que prefieren la duda o no me expliques nada dudo que nos volvamos a adivinar
definir el poema lo ajeno nos gusta, el otro no tanto
define the poem taste for what’s alien of what hours speak and what mouths write
define the sun ultraviolent rays of the past in a continuum of faithful reproduction the chromatic combustion in the constantly full vacuum
where does the other talks about? laughs are the heritage of conversations? now someone is laughing, and elsewhere, laughter is a reminder travelling around the world is the neoliberal dream? are aesthetics real? how many eyes of the more than thirteen billion that exist correspond us? 1,53⁽⁻¹⁰⁾% of the total? and if I blink? how many times we had to comb out lice? why does it matter less than love? you remember the breakfasts with your old man? are you sure? does positivism remember? is it allowed to ask? why won’t we tell the truth? if the clouds are the evaporation of the unsaid and storms are our own, does the sun chromatises us into oblivion?
define the interaction let’s explain ourselves guessing is for those who prefer doubt or just don’t explain nothing I doubt we’ll ever guess each other again
define the poem we like what’s alien to us, not so much the alien itself
You think about them when you hear a song in the car and you think about them when you’re walking down the cereal aisle. You want them to be with you when you’re sitting in bed watching Netflix and when you’re sitting on your front porch in the evening. You wonder if they’re happy or if they’re safe more than you ask yourself that same question. You look for them when you see a car that even mildly resembles theirs and are disappointed when it’s not them. When you’re with them you only see them and no one else. It’s like you’re in a bubble. Their touch makes your skin burn in the best way and you can only think about kissing them. You laugh at their dumb jokes and it’s not even forced because they’re so dumb it’s cute and you laugh when they mess something up or stutter. You think it’s adorable when they blush and when they run their fingers through their hair. You still think they’re hot even though their body may not be the best or their skin isn’t perfect. Their eyes are your favorite part about them because you know that when you look there you two are alone in a room full of people; you’re the only two who know exactly how the other feels. Their hugs are fucking Neosporin for your sadness and you adore their phobias and quirks and think they’re stupid but can’t help but smile when they’re super lactose intolerant but eat a pint of ice cream anyway then get sick. You hate them just as much as you love them because they’re so under your skin that you can’t say no to them and they make you feel so much you don’t know what to do with yourself. They’re just all that you think about and you would rather die than go a day without them. They’re the only person you will talk to any second of any day and they are your go-to person. They’re literally the thing you love most in the world.