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is this not for me anymore

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"we come in peace for all mankind..." is what they said

"...except for the fags" is the quiet part they left unsaid

nasa never apologized for clifford norton

are they even sorry?

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infodesert

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When people look at abstract art and go "uh I could make that"

Fuck, I wish you would!

I wish you would let this inspire you. I wish that seeing a piece of abstract art would move you to self expression.

I wish you would go to the craft store, buy a cheap canvas and some cheap paint and let yourself play with color and form just to see if you can.

I wish that there were more amateur painters, trying their hand at geometric abstraction and color field painting. That would be so fucking cool.

"I could make that" should be a joyous revelation, not a snarky dismissal.

You could make that? Holy shit. please. Please make that.

Jack Bush

Kenneth Noland

Piet Mondraine

Pat Lipsky

Joan Mitchell

Helen Frankenthaler

Kikuo Saito

Marilyn Kirsch

Mark Rothko

Adolph Gottlieb

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theres no deeper meaning here i just like radio towers and think this looks neat

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bad person litany

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the word "goodbye" breaks me

it's so bitterly final

it's something that can't seem to be taken back

a constant reminder that you never know

the last time you will see someone you love

i can't say it to anyone

i can't bring myself to say it to someone

even if i mean it to be as final as it feels

i cannot bring myself

to say goodbye

#poetry #vent

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being able to unmask because i live with and spend most of my time around lovely wonderful and compassionate people is a special kind of comfort and its fucking incredible but it makes it all the more shattering when i end up around less lovely people and environments and i get shocked directly the fuck back behind the mask

#cry screams to the void #i guess im calling myself cry here i enjoy the feeling of anonymity #pseudonym subject to change

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if you spent but a moment

to look at me

talk to me

care for me

exist with me

maybe you'd know why i forgot to call

maybe you'd know why i don't love you

maybe

.

.

.

but instead

you threw away my heart

you poisoned my soul

you rejected my gifts

you crucified my friend

why should i even care

when your hate finally catches up to you?

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ive made peace with it

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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[cryingstatic]

it is of little reprieve to scramble to mend the wounds you created

#vent art #glitch art