( via / via )

"They hunted nutria, apparently, and pelts had begun appearing on doorsteps. No one could agree whether they were offerings or warnings."

"FRANKENSTEIN

Deeds, lives allay me. Man, not law, decide.
End loyal rot, civilian, as a god.
Parts mix a monster, frets no maker tied:
A menace.... Voltage, plate me; rip a rod.

Pale, soon to rot, stuck carcass, end a sleep!
Dial sun, age... beg a raven egg of doom.
Moors liven. Idle here, we rift, far creep....
I peer, craft fire. We’re held in evil’s room.

Mood: fog. Geneva. Rage began us, laid.
Peel sadness. A crack cuts to rot. Noose, lap.
Do rap ire, metal peg, at love.... Cane made,
I trek. A monster frets. No maxims trap.

'Dog!' As a nail I, Victor, lay — old need.
Iced Walton, name my all as evil’s deed!"

—Anthony Etherin

"They are intended for people who want flowers so long as they are not really flowers."

"Every one of those brave and inspiring people you hear about on the news was exhausted and terrified the whole time. They were sad and angry and wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out. They wished they could have stayed in bed. Then they did it anyway. But they did it scared and sad and tired. We also all still had to go to work. People still had to find ways to spend time with their families and take care of their children. We still had to deal with mundane bullshit. And while we did that it didn't stop. Ice was at our work places too. At kids schools, at doctors offices. It didn't stop. So fucking cold, for hours on end" —@nolas-socks.bsky.social via via @ossuary.bsky.social

Don't Speak.