These small, gull-winged craft, once designated as strike bombers, found new life as exploration and research vehicles in the wilderness of 234.4a.c. Their extensible payload capacities–owing to the large available volume under their wings–were ideal for long expeditions where pilots often had to be largely self-sufficient in remote regions. This particular craft sports the matte green and yellow livery and insignia of the Concord Corps of Exploration.
The First of Many Love Poems We should make love in a bed of ticklish holly and narcissus; that way our child will be joyful -ly lacking your lack of self-esteem. I wish you could see how I see you, especially with my rosy forget-me- not tinted irises. That way you’ll know our time together has & will always grow eternally, though our bodies age annually. - Sappy
To You, Everything
Blackberry hair
a raven nestled
inside your tired eyes
lips like butterflies
in bloom
butterflies don’t bloom
but those in my chest do
watching you
from a field of flowers
sunflowers at your breast
beating beside a candied heart
that I wish I have given to you
I wish I had given you
Everything
Ringo has thoughts about humans…
I’ve decided to make another character in my world.
Read more: Anna Hakala
My general concept was Cyrene’s tall cousin who turns into a mermaid. I really like her mounds of fluffy pink hair and I envision her mermaid form to have bioluminescent lights all over. She gets a mermaid thigh tattoo and her color scheme is pink and black. I want to make her seem more approachable than Cyrene. I’ll continue to workshop her design and how similar/apart it should be from Cyrene.
That’s like people who put their socks over their pants. Ugh.
That’s horrendous!
Intramural Building, 3:30PM, 1/13/2025
the voice you are reading this with is not mine or yours, but a narrator present to your thoughts. first-person omniscience? an enzyme, breaking and rebuilding, a tornado of yarn tangling the threads separating memory from fiction. they are both the same, in a way; there is no way to prove the past, just as there is no way to prove your presence. your finger slips against the needle and you curse softly, a soap bubble of a word, floating out of your mouth and into the air.
Apparently her nickname at church was church slut. Yeah. I guess we’re just leaving it out there.
Palmer Commons, 5:00PM, 12/2/2024
ecstasy is paired with dread like a fine wine to a steak: one enhances the flavor of the other. you are frying shallots and mincing the skins, turning them into an autumn leafpile on the cutting board. i don’t ask what you plan to do with it–with what? the skins, the oil, the knife? a square of butter falls into the pan and begins to bubble in protest, a witch burned at the stake for predicting the future. a final chemical farewell–just like the scent of grass, a scream without sound–as you turn around and pour the scraps down the sink. my stomach drops with the oil, with a hiss. paired with dread, indeed.
What the [-] is wrong with you? You’re showing all of Ann Arbor my ass! Pull my draws up!
Blake Transit Center, 4:30PM, 1/27/2025
another theory: for each idea we nurture, ten more sink their roots in the soft flesh of the brain. antheia’s snakes, long and green and suffocating everything in sight. that’s not right. you’re confusing jack and the beanstalk with king midas. and wasn’t it medusa with the snakes? i wave you off. the vines tighten further. delirium is a delicious taste because it convinces you that nothing is impossible. everything, and everything still–don’t you see? the beginning is the end of the beginning. the stardust twinkles in your eyes, just to prove a point.
