penguin head

anonymous asked:

You know dinosaurs ain't real right?

I turn dramatically to the entirety of birds present on this planet. They all stare at me, expectantly, their little birdie faces looking at me in various expressions and emotions. After all, birds are not one unified group. 

“I’m sorry guys,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and pained. 

One African Grey caws out, “Why are you sorry, Meig?”

I take a long, slow breath, “Tumblr Anon says you’re not real.” 

Thousands of voices caw out in unison. The horror in the air is palpable. A Harpy Eagle screeches in fury, while a Little Blue Penguin waddles up to me at the front of the room. 

“What do we do?” the penguin asks, even though penguins can’t talk, because I mean, does it matter, since penguins apparently don’t exist? 

“We move on, my friend,” I say, patting the penguin on the head, “We move on.” 

Slowly but steadily, the birds fly or walk away, all moving out in unison. Some go to universes where they do exist. Others stay here, as ghosts - remnants of an idea that once was. 

I change the title of ADAD to A Pseudosuchian A Day. I begin talking about scutes instead of feathers. 

But finally, the lies we have all been living under have been exposed. 


“As we looked through the comics, there was this fascinating idea that Batman’s presence in Gotham actually attracts criminals to Gotham, attracts lunacy. When you’re dealing with questionable notions like people taking the law into their own hands, you have to really ask, where does that lead? That’s what makes the character so dark, because he expresses a vengeful desire.”
Christopher Nolan

solar: yongddonie worldeu yongddonie worldeu

“I want to take away everything he loves.”
He can’t possibly love me,
He doesn’t know what it means.
So I take away his power
So I take away his kingdom
So I take away his empire.
He is helpless, unloved, powerless.
He is a bird without a song.

“I want to take away everything he loves.”
I’ve taken his power.
The only thing left to take is his life.
The only thing left to give is his death.
A first false prelude,
Like an overture.
With the suspense of a soprano note,
So many measures long.

“I want to take away everything he loves.”
I want to erase the notion completely.
He needs to die powerless.
He needs to die loveless.
Like a performance with no people.
Like a song with no melody.
But this is the grand finale,
This is the truest symphony of jarring tones.

“I want to take away everything he loves.”
The oboe or the flute or the heart or the soul.
They didn’t take their cue.
The music has stopped in its tracks,
It’s halted with a screeching note.
He still loves, like the sweetest of songs.
I don’t know what it means,
The conductors wand
From my fingers, and I am powerless.

“I want to take away everything he loves.”
I can’t deny it now, it’s time to face the music,
The one song that I shouldn’t have played.
This sort of thing gets done in one screeching note.
This sort of thing gets done and the note

—  Listen ya boy is an emotional wreck, so sometimes that means writing ship-oriented free verse poetry at 2:47 am.

 revolutionaries by musique de nuit, inspired by the book I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson.

“I love you,” I say to him, only it comes out, “Hey.”
“So damn much,” he says back, only it comes out, “Dude.”

A mix for Noah and Brian

(Artwork: “Hug” by James R. Eads, edited by me)