Al-talib - Lost Rayyán

How to Die like an Ancient Philosopher

Empedocles: leap into a dormant volcano Protagoras: run into the shore. in a ship. Socrates: gargle w/ hemlock juice Plato: either get serenaded TOO HARD or just generally party TOO HARD Isocrates: go on a crash diet Diogenes: eat raw octopus, get bitten by a dog, hold your breath indefinitely Anaxarchus: get pounded w/ a giant mortar and pestle while loling Xenocrates: trip over a pot Epicurus: piss bricks Zeno of Citium: trip, break your toe, hold your breath indefinitely Chrysippus: get a donkey drunk, laugh at it Lucretius: chug a love potion and let it do the rest Hypatia: anger a mob of christians Boethius: get strangled by your boss

DOES ANYONE REMEMBER THIS OMFG

Have I established a pattern perhaps?

A bi-annual mental collapse?

anyway i love being autistic

reblog if you love being autistic, love people who are autistic, or want to punch every ableist jerk in the mouth.

Rest in peace Cruzeiro Seixas (1920-2020)

Ha!

The night sound of sand on sand, the rustling of ancient books, the call to prayer in the crumbling city. All left behind, and all coming back, and all already here.The sunken city will howl through our dreams again: The City of the Old Ones, The Pillars, The Forgotten.

me every single day of my life

me when I see the psychiatrist

The desert is coming to England

The desert is coming to England. The daisies are pushing up dust. The henges are looming through ashes. Our sunsets are ochre and rust. And plaster Elizabeth peers from the sand, And plaster Victoria’s one outstretched hand Is silently crumbling back into the land Where the desert is coming to England.

We don’t know how long it was coming, The route that it wove through the wars. Our safety for years has been sealing Our ears and our minds and our doors. We thought we’d stay safe from the sorrows of what The wider world whispered by keeping them shut But the borders are closed and the cables are cut And the desert’s still coming to England

So sing of Britannia’s twilight, A lullaby to it’s last gleaming: Under the shadows, the satellite-fires To usher the end of her dreaming. We thought it would come with the beat of a drum, With the fire of our bows burning bright like the sun, But silently, slowly and softly it’s come: The desert is coming to England.

insanity is singing “confrontation” from jekyll & hyde with different voices at 3 am