A Walking Midlife Crisis

Let's Etch e Sketch the Stars.
Arranging words uniquely. #Poet
ADHD | Anime | Still running home after school to watch Sailor Moon 🌙

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

A Well in the Woods
#poetry #amwriting

A well in the woods stood lonely,
when the waters all ran dry;
no people to use the pulley,
so the rope and bucket lie.

Vines beginning to circle
around its stony base,
and creep toward the steeple,
a snare or an embrace?

The well began to wonder if
this scenery anew,
was actually a blessed gift
of beauty, through and through.

For more people came to ponder,
and visit this vine-lined stone;
this embrace can not be sundered,
for the well found a new home.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Maybe the most beautiful thing is just finding your place in the world.

#today

[Ann Wilmer-Lasky, Author ☮️ ❤️🐦 @awlasky]

Writer's Prayer: A Haiku
As words may fail me
At the hour of my death, let
Them speak for me now.
#haiku #amwriting #poetry #writerslegacy

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

There are days ink will spill

onto well worn paper;

alas, history was written again.

#poetry

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

#prose

​"This is the Cloister," Arthur
announced, his tone dropping into a rehearsed, rhythmic cadence. "The Great Minds Tragedy Club. A sanctuary granted to those of us whose genius was violently severed before its final, triumphant resolution. You stand among the elite, tragic dead. Keats, Shelley, the confessional martyrs—those who died with the masterpiece still burning in their veins."

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

"This is the Cloister," Arthur announced, his tone dropping into a rehearsed, rhythmic cadence. "The Great Minds Tragedy Club. A sanctuary granted to those of us whose genius was violently severed before its final, triumphant resolution. You stand among the elite, tragic dead. Keats, Shelley, the confessional martyrs—those who died with the masterpiece still burning in their veins."

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

"Where is the highway?" her voice was a dry rasp, small against the vastness of the room. "The ramp—the water was pooling under the tires. I couldn't..."

​"The highway is entirely irrelevant here, my dear," the voice continued. A man rose from the armchair, adjusting the lapels of a dark, tailored frock coat with immaculate, performative grace. His face was striking, pale, and sharpened by an undeniable, razor-like arrogance. He looked like a portrait painted just before a fever took the artist—a man who had spent his brief youth romanticizing his own inevitable end.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

romanticizing his own inevitable end.

​This was Arthur. He gestured with a silver pen toward the expansive room, where dozens of figures sat scattered at heavy mahogany desks, the low scratch of quill on parchment and the sporadic clatter of vintage typewriters filling the air like a hive of quiet insects.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

She looked down at her hands. They were unbruised, unclenched, but her skin carried a pale, translucent sheen, as if her entire body had been fashioned out of a quiet, stubborn static

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Write simply because it would be absurd not to.

#writerscommunity

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

The nonsensical sounds
of letters amd words
cannot compete
with the chirping
of birds.

#poetry

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Let the eons ring true.
Let the epochs teach.
Let our egos wilt.
Let our energy quake.
Let my earnesty bleed.
Let my eternity sing.

#poetry

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Every damn day.

[Noah B. Price @TrueOnX]

Imagine being given somewhere around 80 years on a planet floating through an incomprehensibly enormous universe, surrounded by billions of people you will never meet, mysteries you will never solve, places you will never see, and more knowledge than you could absorb in a thousand lifetimes...

and spending the whole damn thing worrying about money, arguing with strangers, impressing people you don't even like, and doing something you hate five days a week because somebody convinced you that was life.

I don't know, man.

I think we may have gotten a few things terribly wrong.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Eventually my only friend
is the echo chamber
inside my head.

Friend and foe,
foe and friend;

who spoke first?

oh well.

one day we both will end.

[stoiclogs @stoiclogs]

“𝐷𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

~ 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Indeed.

Although, maybe truth is also an illusion, or better yet, a mirage.

[Friedrich Nietzsche Notebook @QuoteNietzsche]

Nietzsche was not playing around when he said:

“Most people are not seeking truth. they are searching for comfort in illusions.”

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

Yet, the stillness of vicious voids
ring with crystalline chime.

Can you hear it?

The encroaching equalizer
brooding in the dark,

biding the chains of time
one second at a time.

Then, eventually,
the pendulum in Poe's pit
will make the seditious slice,

of everlasting fate.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

What am I...

Even the grains of sand
collaborate to form the beach
and marvel at the ocean sky.

What am I...

Lesser than the stars in their inky networks of galactic telestrations.

What am I...

but ego and blood
transfixed by destruction?

The mediocre middle.
The demented end.

[A Walking Midlife Crisis @RachelRoyHogan]

An infusion of pessimism
warps the turpentine
of brittle despair.

Insidious, or rather
disingenuous
are the star-struck crowds.

We shutter to think, or maybe
we shiver to cheer for our own
demise.

A species so smart as
to choose utter annihilation
in the face of the finite.