I Need To Continue Working On My Stupid Circus Story Instead Of Just Thinking About The Characters. This

rumograph

3 weeks ago

have posted some of these separately but dont think ive posted the whole page :)

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my art art traditional art i think pencil tw blood

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rumograph

7 months ago

The (Boy's) Locker Room

I stand in the locker room
shakily grabbing my bag
There is a scoff and
I am told that I am not a man
Pull my ribcage apart with
your bloodied hands
Count them and rectify
only twenty-three
Scrape your fingernails
against the road of my veins
Altar the pathways and
direct them as you see fit
Gouge out my eyes, my tongue
Play my vocal chords
Put me in tune
Carve my jaw in your imagery
Stain me with your morals
your mannerisms
Disconnect my joints
Make them bend in a way
you find acceptable
Reconstruct me in your idea of masculinity.

the (boy's) locker room [25.11.2023]

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poetry poem original poem trans poetry rumos poetry wrote this almost a year ago now ...

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rumograph

3 months ago

started playing disco elysium today

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personal this will be fun ! i think

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rumograph

2 weeks ago

yeah im good the light has left my world though

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rumograph

2 months ago

hi !!! hello !! hi !!

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my art art traditional art original art pen rumosona

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rumograph

4 months ago

had a dream last night that i had taught one of the rats to talk using an app on my phone and all he wanted to talk about was pharmaceutical products

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personal rumos dreams

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rumograph

10 months ago

being self aware suuuucks like yeah this thought pattern/behavior is stupid and pointless and a symptom. i know this. [does it anyways

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rumograph

5 months ago

drew a bunch of cars and then lost the paper. drew this after though so take this

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my art art traditional art pen right. cars Volkswagen Beetle my cars ... that is the right car hoping so

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rumograph

1 month ago

practicing how to draw bugs so. wasp guy :)

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my art art traditional art ocs furry furry art furry oc original art pen maybe bug insects wasp bug oc oc ross

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rumograph

1 month ago

You're on a sinking plane. A skeleton on a fish hook. Scrubbing the blood stains off the kitchen tiles. You're everything. It will all go sideways for you soon. But you're everything. Let's start again.

You're dying from the outside in. Your brother noticed it before you did. He doesn't know how to help so you ended up staying the night at his and smoking on the roof together. You want to fall asleep up there & you tell him so & he doesn't say it but he is scared what you really want is to jump. He noticed it before you did. Can you link the stars in a way that makes you feel something? You could when you were a kid. Actually, did you feel something then? Take another cigarette when he goes back inside. He won't notice. Maybe he will. What I should say is he won't talk about it.

It's Tuesday again. God. You drive your car like you're the hostage, the man gagged in the back, the body in the trunk. You take turns where you shouldn't. You see your blood seeping through the seats. You're meeting with your mother for lunch and you are sick & scared & tired. Outside the café there's an angel hanging limp in the power lines; a boy and his sister throw stones at it. Keep walking. You can't stop them. Lunch is nothing special and you leave with bleeding nails. You're dying from the outside in. Remember that.

This is your life & you are cigarette ash. But you're everything. You still have time. Let's start again.

remember: from the outside in

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writeblr writing poetry poem original poem spilled ink rumos poetry 30.03.2025

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I Need To Continue Working On My Stupid Circus Story Instead Of Just Thinking About The Characters. This

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