Abstract Stories

The moment when the humor runs out and you realize you're not just 'traveling' anymore. To anyone who has ever sat by a 'destiny' and watched the 'fate' in the room. This one is for you. Life is cruel. Sleep well, everyone.

Description: The Tower does not test strength. It tests consistency. Every path is optimized. Every choice is calculated. Every climber is expected to follow the design. Kai doesn't. He does not fight the system. He does not try to break it. He simply refuses to become something it can understand. And the Tower begins to fail. Paths collapse. Records contradict themselves. Reality stops agreeing with itself. Not because Kai is strong... But because he cannot be reduced to a pattern. This is not a story about winning. It is about what happens when a world built on logic encounters something that cannot be processed.

THE BLACK HEART: Anatomy of Evil "Each Moon is a breath of evil, each Table a root that grows in the dark, each Cross a nail in the sky." Evil is not a historical accident: it is a breathing organism. Throughout the centuries, the wolf Gork hunts the primordial essence of Vorgash-a fire that devours the souls of tyrants and sheds its skin as eras pass. From the flames of Nero to the divine calculation of Napoleon, through seven Moons of blood, darkness evolves, learns, and refines itself. But at the end of the seventh Moon, the hunt changes. Evil no longer dwells in a single man: it has become a nation. The Dark Sphere is born-the collective mind of the Reich. Amidst the mud of the trenches and the cold rhythm of a war that moves with the precision of a train schedule, soldiers like Lothar, Ernst, and Hermann become cogs in a brutal order that admits no variations. There is no more room for initiative, only for simultaneous execution. Only for the void. The Black Heart is more than a historical novel. It is a mathematical and metaphysical journey through 7 Moons, 10 Tables, and 7 Crosses. It is the account of when humanity ceased to be flesh and became dust under the weight of a perfect structure. Are you ready to discover what beats within the Black Heart of History?

A collaboration with @xTheWritersDenx L'raol G'vue, an interdimensional extraterrestrial whose assignment is to scan, observe, catalog, and report anomalies and highlight anthropological events. On the course toward Aurethion on board the T.E.S.T.A., its arrival detects local metaphysics and reveals that magic is an emergent layer of higher‑dimensional physics. Aurethion is a world of pure magic, yet its self‑sustaining laws have, by long evolution, begun to radiate coherent patterns beyond their intended rituals, memetic forms, and resonance with the two moons coupling and amplifying local axioms into transmissible modes that can seed adjacent strata and compromise other controlled experiments. The overall assignment is to prevent cross‑site contamination, restore the designed constraints, and preserve the equilibrium of the planet's original function.

come on, don't be afraid i love to see the waterfalls of hope that fall out of your eyes © dearyuqi

Words, I guess. For myself, my nonsensical self. Perhaps putting them down will make more sense to me. So don't except a masterpiece, Because like I said it's all simply, Words to sedate the confused in me. I don't expect anyone to read any of these, but if you do; then great.

A spiraling mind‑scape of ink‑black theory and luminous paradox, where ideas fold into themselves like cosmic helixes and contradictions bloom into new forms of truth. It's the quiet hum of libraries at midnight, the shimmer of equations that feel like prophecy, the soft ache of a mind outgrowing its own architecture. This world is built from recursive thoughts, fractal meanings, and the electric tension between what you know and what you're becoming - a place where knowledge is alive, unstable, and always on the verge of transforming into something stranger, sharper, and more beautiful.

Jax can't let go of the fact that Ribbit abstracted. He's never been the same, and he refused to get close to anyone. Except for when Pomni comes. Jax naturally wants to hang out with her. Jax wants to spend time with her. He can't go through it again...

What if truth was never singular? What if reality was not a line, but a fracture splitting endlessly into dimensions where the same idea becomes many, and many ideas become one? This isn't a book of answers, It's a trace of thought that refused to stay still after the question ended. Something that began as an exercise on paper, but didn't agree to remain contained inside it. Here, logic isn't a tool, it's a mirror that breaks when it reflects too much. The mind isn't one space, but a collision of invisible layers, where contradiction's not error, but structure. Truth doesn't stand, It shifts, reality doesn't hold, It multiplies. And the human being isn't a center, but a passage between dimensions of perception, memory, and thought that never fully align. These are fragments of something that couldn't remain a fragment. Paradoxical truths, written from the edge of a system that never finishes itself. And perhaps... from a place where finishing was never the point.

A paradise of cuteness...you say? Then, perhaps the eyes watching us are just...candies? A compilation of poems I made during my visits to Cutopia.

I have heard that the sirens sing themselves apart. highest : #50 in poetry

In which I try to write a short poem ☯it's not long before you're stealing☯ Copyright (CC) Attribution-NoDerivs 2014 HolyHephaestus

Sebuah rangkaian aksara ditulis ketika kopi dalam cangkir mulai surut dan lalat-lalat berterbangan dengan bebas berusaha hinggap di atas borok kaki yang mulai bernanah. Semua tulisan ditulis dalam keadaan tidak sadar dan dalam paksaan untuk melanjutkan hidup yang mulai menunjukkan tanda-tanda kiamat. Tak ada pesan, hanyalah kumpulan kata. Semua yang tertulis di sini adalah kisah nyata. Terima kasih kepada warkop dan penjaganya yang setia menemani penulis bicara tentang dunia dari sisi yang lebih berwarna.

What follows here is an anthology of poetry spanning a major transitional period of my life, beginning with the first one I wrote. From casual observations, to heartfelt love poems, to the depths of my journey with depression, my internal struggles with religion, and settling into my exploration of surrealism and aesthetic, this is what I have to offer of my soul. // Oh to be an atom, beholden to it all, I hope you find something in my writing, and godspeed in your journey through the stars. // Cheers and a thousand blessings, Michayla [trigger warning: brief references to suicide/self harm in "Musings Of A Caged Bird"]

"This is the end..." That was the statement that she gave us. And we heard... For many times we keep listening, growing tired of those words, the words which shook the mortals but did nothing to the unliving. And so... I parted away. Many parted away To find what they needed A rare resource these days it is. But we need it. And our simple reason is just enough for the atrocities to come. The desert is calling me...

"Nani, are you adopted?" that's a question Nani Kiritsuku has always been asked. She always suspected adoption. But when she snoops in her parent's ancient secret memory box, she finds a letter. A letter written by a single mother to her child, who is she about to give up for adoption. A complete verification. But when Nani digs deeper into her parents history, she finds something she would have never expected.

She was just a normal girl at a camp, but one late night out, a mysterious guy and his friends changes her life forever.

this book is all about my crazy art. for all artistic people out there . the cover isn't mine

Abstract poetry about this world and any other.

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