#this poem is about minecraft

[onawhimsicot]

i know not many people would want to read a 10,000 word article about the minecraft end poem and how the author, Julian Gough, was never fairly compensated for his work and has made it public domain.

But it's a very well-written and heartfelt read, and he makes it very clear that none of this is a cash-grab and despite the fact that he is essentially a starving artist in this capitalist society, he only mentions his financial struggles despite Minecraft's huge huge success at the bottom of this article and not in the tweets so as to not dilute his message.

Anyway, I just think it'd be cool if those who are able to could support him in some way whether it be subscribing to his substack or donating to his paypal (that's linked in the article, you can ctrl + F to find it easier), that's all.

#Edit: Please look at the article for his paypal and his substack!! most ppl are reblogging a version where i didnt mention it oh gosh #im not really. the kind of person to make posts like this and i dont have the spoons to make it look nice. #my tumblrs not that visible anyway so i guess it doesnt actually matter #i just think that understandably not many ppl would read through the entire article and it makes me so sad that even in the article #he talks about how badly he just wants to make art and not play the capitalism game and still he doesnt talk about needing support #on the platforms where it'd be most visible bc he doesnt WANT to play the capitalism game even if society dicates it and its meant to #be an act of LOVE and just. yeah. #minecraft #minecraft end poem #mineblr

[junkbrainz]

and the universe said i love you because you are love.

#hi i will forever be abnormal about the minecraft end poem #wesleys doodles #hlvrai #half life vr ai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #hlvrai fanart #dr coomer #hlvrai coomer

[rocks-in-space]

-Julian Gough, "End Poem"

[Image ID: 8 photos from Black Sails overlain with text. Image 1: Flint looks curiously at Silver as they stand on a hilltop on Maroon Island in a flashback. Image 2: Silver speaks to Madi, whose back is just visible on the left of the image, in her room in the Maroon camp. Image 3: Silver points a gun at Flint in the woods on Skeleton Island. Image 4: Close-up of Silver's face looking at Flint on the hill in the Maroon Island flashback. Image 5: Flint and Thomas embracing in a field. Image 6: Close-up of Madi's heartbroken face in her room in the Maroon camp with Silver just visible in the background. Image 7: A group of 4 pirates stare at something off-screen in the woods on Skeleton Island. Image 8: Close-up of Silver's sad face in the flashback on Maroon Island. The text reads, "The player is growing restless. I will tell the player a story. But not the truth. No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance." end ID]

#even though i don't actually think silver killed flint but he definitely lied about something #but anyway #oh minecraft end poem we're really in it now #actually i might make that its own post #black sails #john silver #black sails edit #sam speaks

[fleshdyke]

i think it starts with an apocalypse. by sheer luck and circumstance, you survive. you seem to be the only one.

everything seems barren, eerily still, nothing but grass and trees and water. you survive, but there is nothing here. the only sign that anyone was ever here is pyramids of solid red brick, stacked up in a uniformly triangular shape. they don’t seem to do anything. you are alone.

your first night finds you tormented by the dead. they groan and creak and seem to be desperate to infect you. they are all dead by morning.

there’s only a few resilient species that seem to have survived along with you. they’re your only chance right now. the sheep provide companionship. you learn not to get attached to the pigs.

you build a home for yourself. it’s modest, nothing fancy, but it protects you from the elements. you still have hope. your footsteps echo through the empty house in the mornings. you are alone.

it takes years, but ever so slowly, the second hominid re-emerges. they build villages and farmland and are happy to barter with you. they have their own language. you seem to have forgotten yours.

you find the remains of wild animals you haven’t killed. you learn to be patient, and watchful, and you see the wolves that hunt in the forests. it takes a long time, but you gain the trust of one of them. she never leaves your side again.

you explore a little more. you find ancient temples in the deserts, booby trapped and filled with forgotten riches from millennia ago. you don’t know who built this. whoever it was disappeared a long time ago.

jungles flourish and bring with them tropical fruit and colourful birds and skittish cats that seem to love fish. you take home as many as will follow you. the world isn’t quite so quiet anymore.

the oceans come alive again. it’s no longer an empty, unforgiving void that you just so happen to be lucky enough to float on. schools of fish flicker away into vast kelp forests when you cast your lure into the water. the tropical shallows fill with a myriad of fish and coral in every colour you can think of. you find an old boat, much bigger than anything you could ever construct, laying dormant at the bottom of the sea. the writing on the maps you find there is familiar.

there is a temple in the middle of the ocean. you don’t know who built it, but it’s been reclaimed by the fish. you don’t dare go there anymore.

bees buzz softly through the air. you learn to keep them, and learn to harvest their honey, and your crops grow better than they ever have. your livestock keep you busy. your livestock keep you distracted.

even the lost dimension that connection to was severed so long ago returns to its former glory. you explore forests of mycelium and dunes of sticky sand and basalt spires and with them they bring the lost intelligent hominid. you learn quickly not to touch their temples, no matter how run down they seem to be. they are holy.

and even in the most hostile, barren places, deep underground, the place where only you seem to have ever been, life flourishes. glowing lichen lights your way and bears you fruit. massive caverns and underground freshwater pools are home to unique plants and unseen amphibians.

and even after so much growth, and so much recovery, you are still alone.

you search. you search for months that turn into years that turn into decades. what was once a humble homestead has grown into a fortress. you are safe there. you are alone. on every expedition, you leave markers and statues, anything to say i was here. i am alive. you set up beacons to signal to anyone who might be out there. no one ever responds. you are alone.

you follow forgotten maps to the ends of the earth to find anyone that might have survived alongside you. you cannot give up. you cannot be alone.

you experiment. you’ve found a way to cure infected villagers, to return them home, but have had no such luck with the remains of your own species. you think they’re your own species. they’re the closest thing to you that you’ve seen. you grow desperate.

the humanoids that walk freely between their realm and yours used to frighten you, but you’ve been alone for so long you find yourself talking back to them. you begin to hear greetings in the noises they make. you know they aren’t talking to you. you wish you could talk to them. you don’t try to make eye contact.

you follow every clue you find in forgotten ruins. they always lead to nowhere. you piece together portals to other worlds, and find nothing but hostile hellscapes and misery. you have travelled across the world. you’ve gone from blistering deserts and over unforgiving mountains and through freezing tundras and across oceans to find someone, anyone. there is never a new signal, a new clue. there is never anything to indicate that there are any survivors.

you are alone.

your bones creak. it’s been so long. you don’t want to die. you don’t want to take your species with you.

so what do you think, when you turn to see someone standing in a doorway in your fortress that you spent decades building? someone so unmistakably human, someone you’ve spent your entire life searching for to no avail, someone you’ve been constantly lying to yourself about, convincing yourself they were out there somewhere, all the while knowing they weren’t?

you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, if you’ve finally slipped into madness. if this is just a stroke of bizarre luck, that the other survivor has found you before you could find them. if this is another malevolent entity in a world full of strange magic and power, something that was once human, or is only somewhat, or is just appearing to be, and is simply better than the others at pretending.

only one way to find out.

#i think today i will write a poem about minecraft #mc is a psychological horror game. and i fully believe this #and that makes it one of the best games ever made amen #btw dsmp fans dont interact. i hate you and your racist white guys #rambles #poetry #poems #minecraft #mc #horror #writing #my art #long post #psychological horror #unreality #100 #best

[omegamoo]

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing. and the universe said i love you, because you are love. because you are worth it. you are part of this and you are alive and you are love and i love you. and you are worth all that love. you are worth every single bit of it.

#ramblings #started thinking about the minecraft end poem and went insane

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

The poem at the end of the end always breaks me mentally, I could read it a million times.

We are the universe, we are love, we are life. And we always will be, we are the world itself. We are the universe looking at itself. We create, and we make as we please, we can do so much. The very fabric of the world is under our fingers. We are the seamstresses, and we hold the fabric of the world in our hands.

#aggressivetalks #minecraft end poem #im so weird about it

[eyrieofsynapses]

good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.

y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.

I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.

I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?

when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?

that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:

what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?

it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.

and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.

there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.

#the glorious 25th of may #night watch #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #I cannot express how much I love that our lilacs bloom at the same time as they do in the books #also I dearly wanted to include this little fact in my accidental monologue but it didn't fit. so in the tags it goes: #GNU Terry Pratchett is ALSO a Minecraft splash text #which is just. aaaaaaaaaaah of course a game with something like the End Poem would do that but aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah #I have many feelings on this and a decent summary of a lot of them is about the beauty of how humanity remembers and loves our dead #and also just... the love. the love that can be held for someone you never met #but whose writing and words can pierce your heart in the best of ways #and the love for characters--for the best of them are these little shards of the writer's soul that they decided to share #because that's really the nature of writing. baring your soul and your self to others in those persons you breathe to life on the page #and then sharing it with others just in hopes that it might ring true and inspire them #give them insight #help them in ways no one else could because only YOU could write that character and share that part of yourself #and by gods if Pratchett isn't among the best at that then I don't know who is #anyway. I have feelings and I accidentally turned them into a monologue whoo #have a good evening all

[starheirxero]

WOE, SERVANT SUN ANGST BE UPON YE !!! The fic is also under the cut in case you can't use ao3!

Summary:

The world-eater unleashed upon their dimension has done its job with ease. Buildings are reduced to rubble in mere seconds and many are lives snuffed in an instant. Sun was among those lives.

Now, in the afterlife, Sun finally feels every emotion he had locked away for the past century and Moon—a brother he never knew he had—is there to support him every step of the way.

Warnings: Major character death (already happened), angst, loss of faith, just generally a lot of very messy emotions

Word count: 1,091

"How are you feeling?"

Moon's soft tone is nearly drowned out by the sound of something cracking and falling in the distance. The rubble around them shakes from the force, a few books fall from the shelves behind them. Moon's legs dangle freely off the edge of a broken staircase, while Sun has his own curled up to his chest. Neither of them are particularly paying attention to the destruction around them.

"I don't know," Sun mumbles, "Tired, I think. Am I supposed to be feeling some type of way?"

"I wouldn't say you're supposed to be, but people are usually sad or angry or even relieved." Moon rubs his thumb back and forth against Sun's shoulder. "You feeling any of those?"

Sun shakes his head slowly, the golden eclipse earrings on his middle rays swinging with the motion. "I don't think so."

Moon waits a long moment, staring at the other bot expectantly. A bookshelf topples over loudly across the room. Outside, the world-eater lets out a sickening scream. Sun doesn't elaborate.

Moon sighs. "I think what I'm trying to ask you here is," he gently taps Sun's forehead, earning a startled noise from the other. "what's going on in that head of yours, bud?"

Sun stares up at Moon, chewing the side of his lip as he debated on whether or not to speak his mind. If this man is truly his brother like he claims, he may already know what to expect. Sun looks away.

"Do you think He's waiting for me?" Moon's soothing motion pauses for just a moment and Sun feels the need to explain himself. "I mean, surely He must be, right? During such an important time, He's likely gathering the rest of His followers, taking them to safety, and wondering where His last saint is. I promised Him I'd be there when He needs me most, but now I'm here when He needs me most and stars I know He will be upset with me."

"Sun, I don't think he—"

"What if He thinks I ran off, Moon?" Sun interrupts Moon with a frantic edge to his voice. The servant's body starts to tremble and Moon feels it in his hand. He opens his mouth to sooth his brother, but Sun speaks first. "What if He can't find my body and He thinks I broke every promise and prayer I ever made? What if He thinks I'm a traitor? What if He thinks the last century was nothing but a lie and I'm a dissenter, just as Bloodmoon was? What if He hates me?"

Sun suddenly stands up, pacing in a circle on what little flooring remained of the library's second story. Moon rises as well, but stands in the same spot. He watches his brother quietly.

"I did so much to show I still worshiped Him! I did all of this," he motions at himself wildly, "for Him! I did all of it without Him even prompting me to! My entire life centered on Him, every single ounce of energy I ever had was used to serve Him or think about Him! He was the air that entered my vents, He was the electricity in my wires, He was the solder that held my stupid, stupid body together!

"He was everything to me, Moon!" Sun suddenly turns his attention to Moon and he sees the tears threatening to fall from Sun's eyes. The world seems to shake louder at his anguish. "And I failed Him! I failed the one person I absolutely could not afford to fail! My god, my savior, the one constant in my life! How much of a fuck-up do I have to be to manage that?!"

Sun hiccups loudly and looks away to cover his face. Moon approaches his brother at a slow pace, gently putting his hands on his arms. Sun lets out a whimper and leans into Moon, crumbling into his arms and hiding his teary face in the bot's shoulder.

"Did I do good, at least?" Sun's voice is strained, desperate. "Or did I waste my life in the most pitiful way possible?"

Moon wraps his arms around Sun's body and hugs him tightly. He hasn't been able to do this for a century. It's nice. "You did perfect, Sun. You did all you could, even with someone like Eclipse looming over you at every turn. I'm proud of you, brother. I always have been."

And just like that, Sun's fragile mask melted.

His stifled cries become full-body sobs that were already leaving Moon's shoulder wet with tears. 100 years worth of grief—of anger, of disgust, of hatred, of fear—all come out in a wail that only the dead can hear. He wept for every soul he was forced to turn away from or harm, he wept for every part of himself he maimed in an attempt to feel holier, he wept for the person he used to be, he wept for the life he never had.

He wept for every moment he felt like his lord was truly going to kill him. He wept for every moment he dreamed of a kinder god. He wept, and he wept, and he wept.

When Sun's sobs and hiccups quieted, the world seemed to have done the same. No more tumbling buildings that shook the earth. No more screeches from the world-eater. Not even the sound of wind or rubble falling. So, in such a still moment, Sun admits something. "I think I hate him."

Moon hums, rubbing a hand down Sun's back in a soothing motion. "I know."

"I feel disgusting."

"I know."

"I don't want to be his servant anymore."

"What do you want to be, then?"

Sun pauses. He gently flicks the bell at the end of Moon's hat. "I want to be your brother."

"You already are my brother," Moon says with a chuckle.

"I wasn't really before this, though. I didn't even know you were here." Sun flicks the bell again, harder this time. Moon lets out a snort. "I want to know what it's like to be your brother. I want to know something that isn't Eclipse."

Moon mutters in understanding. "You know, I'm not the only brother you have."

Sun suddenly breaks the hug to look at Moon with wide eyes. "What? What does that mean??"

Moon smiles and wraps an arm around Sun's shoulder, guiding him through the broken remains of the library. "Here, follow me. I'm sure Lunar and Bloodmoon will be thrilled to see you."

Notes:

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said I love you because you are love

HAPPY DAY EVERYONE ^_^ i hope this fic made you drop to your knees in a waffle house parking lot! reblogs and anguished tags are always appreciated <3

#xero creations #STARES AT YOU ALL WITH MY HUGE EYES. ENJOY THE PAIN #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #lord eclipse au #servant sun #sams moon #moon sams #angst #hurt/comfort #death #religous themes #very very lightly but still there bc sunvant talks about it #hopeful ending #capitialized He/Him for Lord Eclipse until Sunvant properly loses faith #then its just a normal lowercase he/him #also the title and end notes are just lines from the minecraft end poem LOL #sunvant

[inkdemonapologist]

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Minecraft has a "final boss" of sorts, a dragon you can fight in an area known appropriately as "The End," and when you return home after that fight, before the credits, a long poem scrolls across the screen -- framed as a conversation overheard by the player between two beings who believe the player is hearing their thoughts, and perceiving them as text on a screen.

The End poem, and the strange way it talks about dreaming, waking up, the player, and the world behind the screen, was what opened Joey's eyes to the nature of their world as something made of code, a universe they were only seeing the very surface of. I really like the idea that if he shared the poem with Sammy, maybe Sammy would hear it differently -- hearing the music that plays with the End Poem instead, perceiving its message in the way he can best understand it.

#minecraft au #joey drew #sammy lawrence #when in doubt just keep drawing #minecraft #finally watched the whole end poem and just been having a lot of thoughts about it.... #seems appropriate for it to be something everyone feels deeply but experiences differently #corrupted world minecraft au

[queer-with-anxiety]

I’m going to cry.

Jimmy didn’t die.

Here is a poem.

About a guy.

#canary curse #it broke #secret life #third life #last life #limited life #double life #minecraft smp #poem #I’m bored #poetry #about a minecraft man #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #timmy solidarity

[iteration-penumbra]

“What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works.”

- Julian Gough

#nms #no man's sky #nms photography #yes I did just make you read an excerpt from the End Poem from minecraft #it fits really well for nms and I stand by that #the ATLAS is my bestie <3 #and every time I think too hard about its situation I go insane #penumbra's pics

[dust-to-dustier]

Poem 2!! Let's go two starter ones, and following Rage I think something more peaceful:

LOVING WORLD:

Hello, says the world, you are so small

You fit in the smallest of spaces, it says 

You are a fine detail on my great canvas, it whispers, and I shall love you

Your voice is so quiet, the world murmurs, but I shall listen every time you speak

You are precious, it croons, and I will care for you

——————

Hello, says the world, you are so big

You fill the greatest of spaces beautifully, it says

You are a part of my image, it calls, and I shall love you

Your voice is so loud, it smiles, but your silenced are beautiful too

You are sturdy, it croons, but you can rely on me anyway

#poetry #ash's poem #poem #original poem #poem i wrote #would you believe it was inspired by the Minecraft ending #there's just something precious about it #Ash's poems on beauty

[heynowisavedyouright]

that screams fun, but dangerous, you know? like gambling

[ID: a webweave made of wikipedia screenshots. Put together, it reads:

Gambling

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

For other uses, see Love (disambiguation). is a type of attachment behaviour one individual has for another individual,

required three elements to be present:

Casino games

pattern of deviation from norm or

rationality in judgement.

This effect can be a potentially lethal game of chance in which a player spins the cylinder, places the muzzle against the head or the body (the opponent or themselves) and pulls the trigger.

Nobody knows if the pistol is loaded or not.

characteristics include: seeking out what is feared:[2]

acute longing for reciprocation, fear of rejection,

and unsettling shyness in the limerent object’s presence.

an uncomfortable feeling of not being

able to breathe well enough.

1. They must play regularly:

2. The game takes precedence over all other interests.

3. There is optimism in the player that is not initiated by repeated experiences of failure.

4. The player never stops until they win.

5. Despite the precautions that they originally promised, they end up taking too many risks.

6. There is in them a subjective experience of “thrill” (a shivering sensation, excitement, tension, both painful and pleasant) during the phases of play.

As the number of rounds increases, eventually, the expected

relief may be found by an oath of servitude

loss will exceed the standard deviation, many times over.

give the word, and he would gladly walk off the edge and plummet to his death.

Non-Casino games

Gambling games that take place outside of casinos include

a game of prediction which involves guessing when

someone will deceive by double-dealing.[5] (e.g., disloyalty).

risk-taking, where the risk

is more grave than their benefit.’

can be conducted with materials that have a value, leading to

an overwhelming obsessive desire to possess and protect another person,

creating a “bond” in this sense of an “instrument binding one to another”

protecting a pawn more than is apparently necessary.

there are chances that would set off a live cartridge and blow his brains all over the place.[3]

Other gambling

competing against the house (21. THE WORLD) rather

than each other.

Further information: Public display of affection

Affection can be communicated by looks, words, gestures, or touches. It conveys

the state of being “safe”

feelings and behaviors

from euphoria to despair,

most casual groups of spectators try to heavily control it

“Public power” redirects here.

“Political power” redirects here.

there is a probability of 1/38 that the player wins 35 times the bet, and a 37/38 chance that the player loses their bet.

Players can continue to place bets as the ball spins around the wheel until the dealer announces

“no more bets” or “rien ne va plus”

The dealer will then sweep away all the losing Bodies (disambiguation)

players collect their winnings and make new bets.

End ID]

#tw violence #tw gun #webweave #i present to you my magnum opus. inspired by the asteroid poem ofc #branzypierce #lifesteal smp #ye this is about the blockmen #long post #if the pic's quality is as bad when i post it i will download minecraft java and start learning pvp extensively. because looking at it #the way it is rn i want to end something (in minecraft) #mcytshipping #clownzy

[bvgloverr]

I love the idea of a supernatural god-like being holding Earth in its hands gently, telling us it loves us in every way it can

I love the idea of some incomprehensible force watching us like we'd watch ants, fascinated by how we work, looking at us like a proud parent

And the universe said I love you because you are love.

#sorry im feeling Feelings about the end poem #didnt know a silly little cube game could make me Feel so hard #gripping whoever made the end poem #End Poem #Minecraft

[gl1tchxr]

Hello! This may be a bit random but I've been super curious about this for a while now but I always talked myself out of asking this. Your blog header (I'm not sure if it's called that but I mean "does it know that the universe is kind?") sometimes randomly appears in my brain space and I wanted to ask where that quote is from. Once again sorry for the randomness, I'm just really curious about this

it's from the poem that appears when you beat minecraft! the full transcript is here. and don't worry, you can send me asks about anything whenever you want :)

#ghost post #hitting you with my minecraft end poem beam that rearranges your braincells to think about the end poem every once in a while

[the-good-luck-anomaly]

IT WAS IN A MOMENT NOT OCCUPIED BY MUCH. WANDERING THE TREES IN SEARCH OF SUPPLIES, BENEATH THE BRIGHTEST, BLUEST SKIES. IT WAS THEN THAT A STARTLING CAVITY HAD OPENED IN MY CHEST, RIDDLING ME WITH THE MOST UNNATURAL OF HUNGERS. I COLLAPSED, AS THIS YEARNING FOR FLESH UNEARTHLY TWISTED MY INSIDES AND BLURRED MY MIND. BUT THE ONE THING THAT SHOCKED ME MORE THAN THIS HORRIFIC AILMENT, WAS THAT THE BLUE SKY WAS NOW ROSEY RED, AND IN ITS CRIMSON DEPTHS WRITHED TENDRILS UNCOUNTABLE. BLANKETING ACROSS THE SKY, THE CLOUDS NOW PULSING IN TANDEM WITH THE BEAT OF AN UNSEEN HEART. THE HORROR OF THE SIGHT GRIPPED ME UNLIKE ANYTHING ELSE, EVEN MORE THAN THIS ABHORRENT HUNGER THAT HAD OVER TAKEN ME. AND THEN after a million ticks. and four more heart beats. its gone. and the sky and my stomach return to what they once were. and i have no choice but to continue the day.

as usual.

#good tweet anomaly #MY POETRY MY POETRY #okay okay honedstly i made this poem while playin minecraft with the thaumcraft mod #i was wandering about. n then i got hit with the Unnatural hunger #now i dont know which mod this is. but smth makes the sky all cool n full of stars and planets and rainbows #i guess at this time of day there was stuff only visible at night #because when the unnatural hunger hit and the sky went red and weird as a side effect #i saw three massive streaks of black just wiggling in the sky #scared the FUCK outa me i tell ya what!! #good times tho good times #also im in a dark place rn. or like. a dimly lit place. sometimes a bomb drops n u gotta continue as if nothing happened. #RELATE TO ME!!!!! *shoots you with a thousand beems*