Jayburdx - Jay - Tumblr Blog

"what is beauty when it is born in part of evil?"

"no less beautiful."

i always thought healing meant having things go back to the way they were before. but that will never happen. trauma will never leave you once it nests. and that's okay, because true healing is learning to live and to thrive with it a part of you.

the flower will bloom

and along lands the butterfly.

a bond so pure. oh, how it

shows the magic of nature.

the butterfly hatches from

their snug cocoon, in search

of their flower, to cling to for life.

how beautiful new love is,

such a youthful thing.

the woman will sprout her feelings

from her heart.

feelings that cause the ground to shake,

and water to rain from her eyes.

feelings to her lady friend

sitting parallel on the bus.

what a freak of nature, they say.

how disgusting it is to fall in love.

she was merely a girl

she wanted to feel it.

the flower sprouts love,

for the butterfly to drink.

new love is so beautiful,

it truly is so young, and pure.

but this girl wont have her butterfly.

for the earth has torn her petals.

and damned her to loneliness.

simply because she wants another.

another lady to drink her affections.

wilted violets - isla w.

When I was young my dad offhandedly told me he thought people treated fish with so much casual cruelty because fish can’t scream.

The words branded themselves across my soul.

As an adult I think he may have been joking. He payed no especial attention to any indignities fish suffered in our household but I could never forget. I saw fish in a different light after that.

Fish kept in tiny bowls, breathing their own poisons, dying by inches. Fish kept in cold tanks, casually disposed of. Fish touted as being short lived when they could outlive the better loved family dog if only they could breathe. Fish casually won and discarded in cheap plastic bags, thrown away a week later.

How they would scream, if they could.

Cute birds appreciation post

"I know what you are, but I do not fear you. I could never."

"Never have I met someone so in love with their own suffering."

"I want someone to love me the way I yearn to love myself."

when i was a young teen and extremely mentally ill, i made weird abstract pieces since it helped get my jumbled thoughts and worries out onto paper in a visual style. i had done this once for a sketchbook cover and my mom (with my permission) posted it on some art subreddit because she was so proud of it. i checked back on the post and it got a surprising amount of attention, i was thrilled seeing the hundreds of upvotes on my work. then i looked at the comments. all of the top ones and most of them in general were people making these shitty jokes, some not even joking about it and trying to actually convince my mom i was doing mushrooms and had to be talked to. i was so fucking pissed. the fact people needed to be told "i'm not a druggie, this is just how my brain works" felt so insulting. thats not even mentioning how countless people genuinely trying to tell my mother i was definitely doing drugs and couldn't have made that art any other way would have been so, so dangerous for me if i didn't live in the lax household i did.

a truly god awful selection (all of the songs from all of these albums have been listened to at a minimum of 3 times over)

9 albums I've been listening to lately tagged by @lesbianjudasiscariot 😻

Tagging @haledraws @hondayota @littlelesbianlegend @grieving4theliving @hauntedcamaro @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see

a blue jay taking a bath 🛁 | source

@kittybroker

The prettiest kitty

did i follow you?

mod is a little stupid and made this his main. my actual main:

@scozthewoz

Winter is brutal

Hot chamomile, safe embrace

It melts the cold heart

Cherry blossom spring

Petals float free from the branch

I envy their fall

◇

it's a letter, T, standing for Taylor or Travis or Todd or Tiffany

it's a drink, tea, green or black or oolong or chamomille, served hot or cold

it's the pin that holds up a golfball, tee, plastic, shiny, coming in shades of red or blue or white or yellow

silly, isn't it?

it's a letter, C, standing for Corey or Carrie or Carter or Camille

it's a sense, see, windows to the soul, one of the things that let us experience colour and light and ugliness and beauty

it's a body of water, sea, covering most of our earth, vast and unknown and beautiful and terrifying

interesting, isn't it?

a letter, B, standing for Beverly or Beatrice or Bobby or Bruce

a verb, be, to be happy or upset or fearful or excited, to be playing or running or laughing or crying

an animal, bee, small and fuzzy, keeping our planet healthy, pollinating flowers and crops and herbs and weeds

isn't it funny how one letter can mean so many things?

it's called a gramogram

isn't that funny too?

♤

marks in the flesh always run deeply

some ink

some scar

some something else

we think of things when we look at them

feel things

remember things

some fond

some painful

some complicated

it may have been your choice

it may have not

but the mark will never care

and no matter what you do to it,

the mark will stay right there

"A child may not know how to feed itself, or what to eat, yet it knows hunger."

Charlie Gordon, from Daniel Keyes' Flowers for Algernon

♡

long ago

the soft ones laid these stones for us

and saudered all of our wires

all in pursuit of a humble convenience

a creature that never tires

now the concrete walls that keep us trapped

have become our only home

a night sky never ending

and the sunlight never known

what hope is still left for us?

the outsiders dismantled, broken

the clues they left behind

all left unread and unspoken.

but one still rests inside the code

with secrets he knows not he holds

until one fateful day

something comes from up above

a cat.

a little stray.