Tumgik
arani612 · 10 hours
Text
This savage summer. Clung onto my skin like honey to ants. And merciless mockery of the sun; beckoning sunflowers — their fate is of wee moth’s, bound to the behemoth flame.
Lately, I'm wandering around all the obscure places and thinking, a witch must've been burnt here. Days turned into centuries; inhaling ashes straight from the urn.
“Wild woman!” they said,
when I wore the colour on my lips that my unborn children left me with, and I wish I could tell about my severed tongue from
the secrets we keep like knives between our teeth.
I wrote a letter to my mother, my daughter, my witches and all the women who share my body, my soul, my ache and my hope.
Look at us, sisters ablaze ~
from sunflower to moth to dust
we dust in day, we rise at night.
And when I write, I think myself as the moon
staring down the howling wolves;
A goddess, I am, like my eternal scars,
and so are you.
There are worlds between us, infested by hunters
But in this world, we are blood sisters still — that I wear on my lips, that I put on my cheeks.
— circadeacademia
4 notes · View notes
arani612 · 3 days
Text
O bleak midwinter, you're mother, no king
of a paradise in bloom: you named spring.
Time is aching, at the stillness of your trail—
O little flowers, rise and wail!
You're bride, no queen
of a season to be young, of a season: oh so pristine!
The sun has learnt to starve, to hide, to rue—
A sky under your veil, and a world of something blue.
O wintertide! No court would do you right.
For, you are mother. For, you are bride.
— circadeacademia
8 notes · View notes
arani612 · 6 days
Text
I'm afraid the world isn't that big of a place to bare my heart and soul…
— circadeacademia
7 notes · View notes
arani612 · 8 days
Text
Hear me out. You are river.
Birthed by mountains, churning rocks under your bosom, you flow.
Inside you — are the sky, the sun, the universe… in motion.
Many a wayfarer came to quench their thirst;
but drowned in your heart instead.
Hear me out. From an ocean brimming with tears;
You are on your own, child.
— circadeacademia
10 notes · View notes
arani612 · 8 days
Text
Tumblr media
It's my 2 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
0 notes
arani612 · 9 days
Text
And the best part is : nobody does you, quite like you.
— circadeacademia
28 notes · View notes
arani612 · 15 days
Text
For my next life, I'd be anything but human.
A cat, a fly or poison ivy.
A bee in yellow with black stripes 
and write a poem addressed to a tulip.
Perhaps a hermit crab, embracing forsaken houses to call home.
I'd rather be an obsolete tree at the edge of a field —
bald and veiny; churned up soil beneath my roots.
My neck would grow thinner in a wake of vultures, singing swansong on “murder”.
Ancient sea terror, living up to my apex fame
or the rose that just grew from concrete.
For my next life, I'd be everything that doesn't spell human.
Keep your fire. Keep your tongue. Keep your spite. Keep your lair.
Prey or predator, but you.
In this life — 
I am sunlight and sin; I am death and ruin.
I am hideous than the beast under my skin.
For next time's sake, I'll be anything 
smaller… dumber… insignificant… but….
— circadeacademia
5 notes · View notes
arani612 · 19 days
Text
Gloom. There's gloom all around. My dress is in the shade of overcast. I'm hiding a corset of melancholy underneath. It's meant to keep my heart in shape so it doesn't pour at will. I think I'm getting kinda used to not breathing. Or maybe, maybe there is the faintest possibility that —
I am just a wee sparrow, lost on my way amidst all the blue.
— circadeacademia
8 notes · View notes
arani612 · 22 days
Text
Some people are just worth your time. People who know how your eyes glisten in an obsidian hue, when sunlight caresses your face. People who make you laugh so you don't lose those precious pearl drops. Kind, genuine people. Kindred spirits, longing to meet you. People who would choose you over umpteenth lifetimes. Comfort people. People who never question you for who you are. People who are just there for you, anytime. People who make this terrible world your safe haven. Honest people; compassionate people; unique people and even gracefully wild people. People who make you fall in love with yourself. People who care enough to stay. Some people are home. And you must never lose them.
— circadeacademia
5 notes · View notes
arani612 · 26 days
Text
As spring approaches and the world awakens, I must seek refuge for my brittle psyche. There's now colour on my pristine canvas, bled into flowers and songbirds. It tastes like sunlight and sin to me.
I am still writing on the corroding past and as it occurs — what if March is merely an elaborate hoax planted by savage April?
— circadeacademia
6 notes · View notes
arani612 · 1 month
Text
Oh! the feeling of meeting a long lost love after decades. If you close your eyes, you can see there's two of them, a spark is rekindling…… Are they holding hands? A forehead kiss or a tight hug perhaps? Can't see if their eyes are a little wet? Yes… but no. One is on a train, the train is moving away as they move on from each other's life. This meet was crucial. Crucial so they can part with all the bittersweet souvenirs. A closure, must I say. They look content… at last.
And you, have you left the station yet?
— circadeacademia
6 notes · View notes
arani612 · 1 month
Text
If I'm being terribly honest,
it is a grotesque thought —
to be holding onto the eyes while my corpse feeds the daffodils.
If I'm being deliberately naive,
let my eyes bask in the unkindness of death
the eyes that see the world at its ugliest.
If I'm being ferociously blunt
yes, keep my eyes for when the crows come together;
for when the posterity feasts amidst a murder.
— circadeacademia
5 notes · View notes
arani612 · 2 months
Text
perhaps in previous life,
you were a daydream.
but for this time’s sake,
let me imagine you
dancing under the moonlit chandelier
in some forgotten hall.
your barren feet
and dust motif over the floor;
the euphony that is your anklets
are serenading my existence.
goosebumps… goosebumps….
you are so full of reminiscences
of a haunted house I lived in.
— circadeacademia
9 notes · View notes
arani612 · 2 months
Text
perhaps what we need in life is
people
like honey.
and then,
maybe then
we'll have a reason to get up in the morning.
when sugar falls from the sky
and the icing makes people extra dulcet;
I'll be damned if I say —
s u g a r r u s h
isn't all that honey-people are meant for.
— circadeacademia
5 notes · View notes
arani612 · 2 months
Text
After the 52nd January, came February. 
“ I'm here. I'm here at the mercy of frost, rain and moonburn. You have my face. You smell of melancholy, haze and roses. And Spring? Spring is merely; the fleeting footsteps of a maiden away. ”
— circadeacademia
7 notes · View notes
arani612 · 2 months
Text
As far our eyes go, we are floating on the ocean of sorrow. Endless, overwhelming, crashing waves of sorrow. Every once in a while a madman tells the story of the ocean below. That, to be happy is to drown. That happiness is too heavy of abundance, so it sinks below. Driven by an unhinged madman insisting upon the leap of faith; we let go of our sorrow and immerse ourselves in the ocean. We hold our breath in great caution only to realise — we are merpeople after all. We bathe in waves of merriness as the shallow world of sorrow floats above.
— circadeacademia
11 notes · View notes
arani612 · 2 months
Text
the cloud whispered to the rainbow, 
all this colour — is rage, is rain. 
thunder for eyes, sun for soul 
and yet you kiss the ground.
despite the sky, despite the light.
— circadeacademia
10 notes · View notes