I actually… love this

i once wrote an entire academic paper with the central thesis of ‘everyone is kind of a dick to Data and it honestly kinda reflect how people treat neurodiverse people, which is also why we neurodiverse people relate to him so hard’

the original post was missing a line, so here’s the full poem!!

His poetry is good. Fight me.

I HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR YEARS

“AN ODE TO SPOT” IS FREAKING GENIUS FIGHT ME

Hat tip @eldriwolf ! This is such a good poem genuinely. I like the forms of “doggerel” verse for imposing structure and rhythm and allowing for the crisp expression of simple truths. I love and defend doggerel (partly because everything I write turns into it, probably.)

I’ve never really seen any Star Trek but I genuinely like hearing about my friend Data. I feel like I know a lot about him. He’s my distant mutual-in-law. I frankly love his poetry and we would clearly get along with each other well. I think his coworkers don’t appreciate him, and that he’s an easy, pleasant and engaging conversationalist. I know nothing of his personal life and this is correct for me. I think he has an evil twin, but I’m pretty sure that got sorted, and, well, don’t we all. I think he gets software updates and I think his captain is Picard who is nice to him. I don’t want to watch any Star Trek because this is a perfect relationship: I don’t WANT to learn anything more about Data, I want zero additional data lore, and I don’t want to have to see people finding him tiresome!! the end. Thank you data and everyone.

Data also wants zero additional Lore

I looked at this in puzzlement and then realised in some unknowable way that the brother is named Lore isn’t he. I cannot believe I know 5 things about Star Trek

To the gifted kids.

Treated like the chosen ones.

Told of the great things they would achieve.

The diseases they would cure.

The world they would save.

The expectations heaped on small shoulders,

By elders too lazy to do it themselves.

To those talented youth.

Who grew to resent the stars,

they were expected to reach for.

Who decided not to burn their hands.

On fiery celestial bodies.

You who chose a quieter life.

In your brilliance could see.

The race was a trap.

To you I say.

You did not fail

Your gifts saved you.

You saw the world for what it was.

And saved yourself.

this made me cry its beautiful

need

pulsing thing kept at bay

because to unleash

would be to let sinking teeth

leave the echo of their bite

need

fine boundaries there are

where want slips into desperate fingers

when need slips into a drug

oh my hands shake—

need

propels you to seek more

hungry, searching, wanting

biting, forever latching on like

kiss starved lips

like a knife drawn to

a bleeding soul

"where want slips into desperate fingers

when need slips into a drug"

you madwoman. must you do this to me

drawn to her touch, her gold laden speech

just the faint grasp of drifting fingers

emerald envy for another time, dragonflies, tantalizingly out of reach

each second sighs and withers for her, passing on to yet another

obliviousness lends agony; steals the ordinary trickle of time

for me each brush turns languid, syrup slow moments

possibility left hanging on to thin rope

each spark fizzling out into ash from a figment flame

You are cruel 

How dare you wound me 

With your loveliness

Do you wish to slice open my heart?

And wear my spilled veins like a necklace 

Adorned in my blood

Clad in my praise?

The fine silks of my worship

Do you wish to kill me? 

Your whispers

They don’t blind with the glare of a knife

They don’t flaunt glittery resplendence 

There is nothing gaudy about what you say 

Yet each raw syllable 

So painfully sincere 

Strikes deeper 

Than any blade ever dared 

Omgbwkofjfjeownfkfjgb THE VEIN NECKLACE THING OMG

Ari I'm so unwell. What have you done.

She is empty

Like a shell

Each laugh rings a metallic hollow 

Each breath comes ragged

dreading what is not yet known

She is full

To the brim with so much to say,

So much to feel, pouring forth like ink

from her eyes, her ears, her mouth—

And it festers like an ugly wound 

She is alive 

With flickering intensity 

Bright as flame, strikes out as quickly as a match is lit

With all the passion of hell, and the bitterness of a grudge

She is everything and nothing all at once

She is dead

Because sometimes she stares ahead

And tries to find the pulse

Of everything she was ; everything she is not

And sometimes she cannot feel it there

she is here

Locking up her screams 

In chambers of frustration 

And her words fall short each time

Yet she savors each raw syllable like sweet release

She is here

In her dimming halo and torn up wings

With not a heavy heart, nor a radiant soul

Just a well-loved book, trying to find her place

On another shelf 

To feel loved again; to love again

To reach out without a touch that feels alien 

And she will hurt and bruise 

But she will live

And she will love

YOURE KILLING ME

what does a smile mean

to me it is a crack, sunlight scribbled

or a fissure on the asphalt

from which a stray daisy

caught by the lonely eye

stands, tucked like a secret

with a lovely fragility only found

in the things we overlook

and the bold resilience

quiet

yet in possession of the grit

which defines hope

The boy of stars burns the brightest

Eyes like rivers that never weep

Crescent moon scars, hair of ebony and ash

A tragedy of a glowing soul 

Charm is an old friend 

Humor is his cloak of invisibility 

Stretched thin from wear

And the darkness seeps

A boy of carefree words

A man of careless sins

Who reached for love and watched it shatter

Falling away at his own fault, A man of his own undoing 

Twisting hands wrangled his defiant heart

The hands of his boyhood days

Whose grip is as firm as laughter 

But now it twists sharply like a knife

The dorms aren’t what they once were

They echo of feet that had ran its halls a million times 

It is innocent bliss 

That they don’t hear the dull thunk of stone

a hardened heart been betrayed 

(randomly felt like blessing y’all with sirius black poetry lmao)

IM GONNA SCREAM FUCK THAT I AM SCREAMING EVERYONE COME LOOK AT ARI'S POETRY

what does a smile mean

to me it is a crack, sunlight scribbled

or a fissure on the asphalt

from which a stray daisy

caught by the lonely eye

stands, tucked like a secret

with a lovely fragility only found

in the things we overlook

and the bold resilience

quiet

yet in possession of the grit

which defines hope

OMG im going insane for this

what if im still thinking about this

There is a loyalty that comes along with late night conversations

A distance more easily closed by the vulnerability of guards at one’s feet

A cascade of butterfly dreams and thoughts, ocean deep

We swore an oath, you and I,

All with the simple fluttering

of tired eyes

Omg this is so pretty I love it

HOZIER⁉️

To The Substitute Art Teacher - Jordan Bolton