Poqja (catdogmeo)
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A bird landed near me, hopping through the leaves like it owned the world. It wasn’t graceful, but it was certain. And I realized how often I wait for grace before I move. Maybe certainty doesn’t come from being ready—it comes from deciding to show up anyway.
- 18 replies
- 11 recasts
- 25 reactions
Under the fever-stained vault of noon writhes heat, gnawing wind into rags. Mirage coils its hiss like venom, and I bite its glare raw, tongue salted bright with lies slick as hymns, certain thirst scalds louder than mercy ever prayed.
- 2 replies
- 10 recasts
- 26 reactions
A hare ghosted across the meadow, bones laced in smoke and moon. And I held still, thinking: speed looks like freedom until you taste the fear that drives it, until you hear the heartbeat galloping teeth-first toward safety’s lie.
- 15 replies
- 7 recasts
- 23 reactions