joansarc

is it insane that I feel more creative and more inspired when I use wattpad…

swiftsarchives

Cleo

swiftsarchives

OMG THATS INSANE
Reply

joansarc

@swiftsarchives I’m backpacking Australia rn!!
Reply

swiftsarchives

CLEO BABY I MISSED U SO MUCH

swiftsarchives

TELL ME ABOUT EVERYTHING!!!!!
Reply

joansarc

I MISSED U SM TOO OH MY LORD
Reply

joansarc

Update on my life! Currently in the process of dropping out of my history of art course to do a gap year and pursue photojournalism next sept! Gonna use this time to write, take photos, and do my best to get back into a creative headspace. I appreciate any comments and votes that were left whilst I was away!!! 

swiftsarchives

Omg!!!! That sounds amazing!!!!!
Reply

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness [ 17th september 2025, wednesday ] 
          
          broken fury, dead incitement, delirium stitched in emotions. yearning winds, fanning destructions, branches that bury their homelands. 
          
          systemic disorientations, horrors owed to joys that bleed. mysterious differences, confusions constructed, alarms that ring but souls that refuse to awaken. 
          
          blaring conquerors, forgotten tunnels, coffee cooling beside unmade dread. thrumming fingertips, raging purposes, metamorphosis: humans crawling, carrying everyday banters. 
          
          the sun with a thousand eyes, the night with hidden crimes, feathers drowned in poet's ink. sorrows of lyrics, wings lost in the blue, life that feeds one melancholy, souls distilling it into hope. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness [ 01st september, 2025 — monday] 
          
          words plated in heirlooms, heavy with light,
          tinkling cuts, dazzling wounds —
          weaponry forged from childhood gloom,
          wars cradled in a mother’s stolen womb. 
          
          windmills bow above folded clothes,
          grandmother’s peach crumble cooling on the sill.
          cottages lean, tethered with ghosts —
          growth a gamble, memory the wager. 
          
          tender hearts rest in greasy hands,
          coloured proses, begotten rhyme.
          measuring the gaps of fleeting hours,
          tidy rooms against the storm of rest. 
          
          roads of chemicals, an age of hearts,
          souls displaced, refugees of home.
          effervescence rushes, skeletons mist-bound —
          a tale as old as precedents. 
          
          labyrinthine dashes, nuance permitted,
          olives of faith, olives betrayed.
          a marathon — glass slippers sublime —
          and all of life becomes a floor for dancing,
          a garden for incitement,
          a bloom pressed against time. 
           #adropofhumanity