This Year's Halloween Costume : Dorian Gray For Wilde's Novel :D

『可哀相に』（2022）

A peek at my 1yo Fem!Azi cosplay to motivate myself to wear it again and take pics with an actual camera

Me when my vanity keeps me from being a moral ideal but i endorse it

Depths of despair

What is the sea, and what are its waves ? It flows, bile in my mouth - all hands on deck !

My mind’s in high tide and my tired heart caves

Inside my salt-spiked bones, my old ribbed shipwreck. Is it true that the world will be doomed when it boils ? My blood bubbles and roars and gushes through gorges

As sea serpents gorge themselves, my soul tight in their coils

The water hisses and fusses like a sword maker forges

And cools the red iron in the dark doubtful depths. My own surface, blurred, clouds and sparkles and spits. My face, my stomach churns, which tilts my ship and steps

My eyes, sleek sea glass cry again, and my tattered tooth grits

The chapped sun-dried shore of my pouty, shut lips. In my hollow clammy chest I feel things clank and crash

And my threatening thoughts are such perilous trips

They’re unmapped ; I get out with a bang and get out with a splash. Though now my tumbled brain’s encrusted in a pearl

As I’ve held it close and I’ve soothed it harshly. The sailors - my neurons - mind the ballots they hurl

So my mind washes up jewel-like fish, lively

And metallic. Then the wind of my cries’ settling 

I tame my high horse and Kelpies stop the race Like my pulse. Sweetened, the sirens sing

And lulled, my psyche, the blade, dulls, turns to grace. I can rest, still sailing, though sea-sick

And tell the storm’s tale to my old friend the moon

Who crowns my velvet skies with the starlight’s pinprick

And whispers through my masts “Goodbye and sea you soon”

little original poem of which i submitted a shortened form to a contest

*staring at a framed picture of me as a kid in my parents living room*

Mom says it's my turn with the guilt

- the angel on your shoulder

Part of a photoshoot i did with my best friend

No, dad, despite identifying as a female, i want you to grasp the reality, which is that you can't provide me with daintypop fairylace deodorant ™️, clinically engineered to smell like pink tax and dutch tulip fields. My body is wretched enough to warrant ICESTORM BLAST (for dude-ly men), the one with a tiger on the bottle, badly photoshopped flames, legally classified as fuel

Hercule Poirot but it's a film noir and he speaks like an american detective (still with the accent)

"Yes...I see zat ze doll waz gutted by her fate az much az by her attacker...and maybee it iz bettere zis waye, when you see ouat this town iz becoming. Sometimes chazing city lightss leadz a dove's life off tracke"

*wistfully gazes at train tracks disfiguring Brussel's city center while bitterly chuckling, hands in a trench coat's pocket paired with a bowtie*

Witnessing the use of AI illustrations in my class literature presentations has had, besides plunging me ever deeper into despair, the fascinating effect of having me taking in increasingly Timothée Chalamesque versions of Dorian Gray