Let me show you the world,
in my heart
there’s alternative music,
angels are envying
the messed up generator boom,
they’re plotting already
on the pixels.
that’s me in the corner,
to my bleeding thoughts
the existential paranoia
and twist the flat surface of today
in an astral realm,
some cool shit
no one ever heard
or seen before,
a la la land strange
like when you take by mistake
too much dmt.
a blue boy draped in incognito
told me the story of la la land in the morning.
I want to take a leap in time, with you
and chat about déjà vu moments,
i want to bet
my last penny on innocent love
wasted over fragile moments,
i want to ride
the turbulent ocean waves
like a comic book fearless hero,
I want to meet and start a bizarre conversation
with an intriguing sea creature,
perhaps a marine monster,
wish it would be poseidon in persona,
I want to give as a modest gift
my last breath
to a devoted to witchcraft magician
and I want my tombstone
to lay dump
and cold in the freezing dark
without any trace of my body in it. Ever.
Scorpio is the 8th astrological sign in the Zodiac. Power is one of the first things that’s associated with Scorpio. These individuals are observant and can be manipulative. Its ruling planet, Pluto, gives Scorpio a need to believe in forces beyond itself. Scorpios are highly intuitive. They ride Plutos turbulent waves. Scorpio is a Fixed sign, meaning they are determined, persistent and stable. They can calmly work through any project, usually reaching their goal effortlessly. They’re also hard headed enough to stay angry if you ever do cross the line with them. They are capable of holding grudges… for a long time.
Could I please have Judar, Sinbad and Kouen being forced to betray their s/o (though not kill pls)?? You know, for the angst :D
Sinbad looks at his s/o coldly, his expression devoid of whatever love he felt for them. He kept telling himself that this was for their own good. This was for their safety. This was to keep them safe, even if it made them hate him.
Kouen grits his teeth, guilt rolling in his stomach like turbulent waves. There was no honor in his actions. He felt gutless, spineless. He can’t bring himself to look his s/o in the eyes—knowing the sorrow in their eyes would destroy him.
Judar lashes out, smashing the nearest thing he can find. He hated this. He hated it, hated it, hated it. But he did as he had to. He refused to obey quietly, throwing a literal tantrum and a magical hailstorm.
If we were to depict our relationship on a canvas, there would undoubtedly be
Swirls of pastel for the butterscotch warmth of happy times,
Splashes of ocean waves, turbulent clouds of grey and a confusion of patterns for all the chaotic moments,
When bottled feelings started to boil into hurt
And days of not talking to each other.
Then arising were
Clear blue skies for the rejuvenation of us,
Where we left our faded scars behind us.
And they may all say this makes no sense.
To them, it’s just a mess of colours,
Romanticised and lacking in direction.
Yet, art doesn’t have to make sense
It can still be beautiful, meaningful in its own way.
And in this case, no one else’s opinion matters.
Dean gripped the
arm-rests as the plane hit a wave of turbulence.
“Dean, are you okay?”
Y/N asked looking at me concernedly.
“No, not really.” I said
my heart beating a little faster than usual.
“Why, are afraid of
flying?” she asked.
“Well sort of”
“You need to calm
“Well, I can’t” I replied
staring wildly around feeling a hit of nausea.
“Yes you can” she
“Could you stop with
the touchy feely yoga crap.” I said turning to her but she just rolled her eyes
and grabbed my wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to relax,
give me your other hand, close your eyes and find a happy place.” Y/N said.
I obliged resting my
head against the seat as she applied pressure against the crease and began to
hum Metallica which was actually relaxing. I closed my eyes and tried to find a
happy place when the image of Y/N filled my brain. The way she laughed when no
one was looking, the warmth in her eyes, how her hair smelled of a vanilla
tinged floral scent when I hugged her. I
breathed in and then out, anxiety dissipating as Y/N continued to rub soothing
circles on my wrists.
“I think you have
found your happy place” she said smiling.
“Yes I have.” I said
opening my eyes seeing the warmth of her eyes and her dimpled cheek.
I see myself in the mirror now, brow furrowed - if I lean close I’ll see - what I don’t want to know - tension, sadness, disappointment, my eyes dulled, cheeks flushed with capillaries that look like rivers on maps - hair lying like snakes. The mouth makes me the saddest, next to my dead eyes. There is a dark line between the lips in the outline of several waves in a turbulent storm - it says don’t kiss me, don’t fool me, I’m a dancer who cannot dance. - Marilyn Monroe
You are my lighthouse shining a strong beacon of light guiding me home to you amidst the turbulent waves. I know I should be so grateful for this light that I’ve always wanted but I can almost see you flickering then going off and this fear is enough for me to turn away, staying amidst the chaos instead.
“Under the Waves” Some interesting storm clouds showing how the atmosphere can act like water in the right conditions. (the atmosphere is a gas, which like water, is also a fluid, it’s just hard to see because the gas is mostly transparent)