Dmmx
13 Followers
There’s a subtle joy in unfinished things. They remind you that you’re still in motion.
I don’t think we realize how many people secretly root for us. Even strangers love a good underdog story.
“Black & white but still dramatic.”
I’ve learned that humility opens more doors than pride ever could.
Against the bruised altar of dusk kneels rain, beads burning blue on leaves slick as knives. Its chant splits silence into bruises bright as psalms, and I gag on their sweetness, tongue clawed raw by prayer honed thin against wind’s jaw.
Stars bled white wounds into the bruised rind of night, leaking glow slow as guilt. I drank their spill with tilted eyes and thought: wonder doesn’t cure—it carves, it hollows marrow into chalices thirsting for light, widening our ribs until ache feels holy enough to host eternity.
Not every day has to be productive; some days are meant for wandering, listening, and letting your mind stretch.