Memorycore - Blog Posts

Love and peace on planet earth is playing space pinball on your dell dimension 4500 pc in 2009.

Memories of another life, a life before loss, a life turned to memory long before death

-Memory

What is it with the October air,

reminds me of all the things bright and fair,

days are strange, sun, rain and mist,

I'm back to those houses not made of cement and bricks,

picking lemons, making wells of mud and houses of wet sand,

where the morning air was warm, burning feet, dunes and desert land,

making toys of clay, dolls of rugs, money of leaves, boats of paper,

tumbling down the sand dunes, running in the storms of sand filled air,

Limestone walls, a room just for water, an old well, pots of clay,

where birds and i shared drinks of cold water on a warm sunny day,

I do not have clothes stung with tiny starry thorns anymore,

the days full of wonder, hair full of sand, swings on tree branches are gone,

years are lost and I have wandered far from nest, memory turning to stone,

i do not sleep under the stars anymore, perhaps I've lost the idea of home.

- Prity

11-11-24

DyoudiM on twitter :D

I thought this art looked super cool!

I bring more DyoudiM art !

You can buy their art prints on this link!

I forgot what the artist name was but HOLY COW DO I LOVE THEIR ART

I Found the artist! Courtesy of @rottedeldritchhorror

“The artist is DyoudiM btw! I found out about them through a super eyepatch wolf video about liminality lol”

I WATCHED THE EXACT SAME VIDEO TOO!

To the boy from my dream who tried to save my life even though he knew from the very beginning that he was meant to die. I swear to you that even though you were just apart of my subconscious and even when I will slowly forget you and everything you did for me, I will always love you. Even when you’re just a lost memory in my mind, there will always be some part of me will never forget the sacrifice you made for me. I will never know what happened to you in the end but I am so sorry for not being able to save you from your fate. I don’t remember your name but I do remember what you looked like and I do remember what we shared before you were ripped away from me so to whoever you are, thank you so much for the gift you have given me. You will forever be connected to my soul, my love.

I'll always remember sweetness over pain it's light an love for me that remains

““It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.” - Chuck Palahniuk”

—

i wallow

part 4/4 of mourning your reciprocation pink jasmines symbolise affection, love, beauty and purity.

i rarely had the time to make sense of romantic poems, the ones of which i deemed were nothing short of over-the-top. a sappy bunch, i thought. yet here i laid on my desk, with the side of my flushed cheek from dried tears pressed against a clumsily ripped paper on the edges, inked with an unnecessary and embarrassing amount of scribbles and crosses to hide some cluttered words i strung together in an attempt of composing a disgustingly romantic ballad. the paper long forgotten, though, when i recognised a jasmine's fragrance wafting somewhere outside my opened window that was gently seeping into my room, along with yellow-orange hues of the afternoon sun pooling on my wooden-tiled floor and swirling tiny freckles of dusts in its entry.

"they're stardusts." you've said. "they're just, dusts." i've replied, on those lazy afternoons i sneaked out of strict shackles tying to a prisoned half of my heart within my parents' house, just for a liberating escape to yours where the other half of it lies free, full of unspoken love, splayed out all for you under your old oak tree - the witness to our first picnic date, first kiss and a first heart-to-heart followed up by many, many more. and oh, i could never succeed in picturing a memory more vividly than that time when this nostalgic afternoon's sunlight kissed the outlines of your pink cheek, its touch reaching all the way down to your slightly opened lips that are a shade darker. that was when your expression turned to one of a surprised fluster as i placed a baby pink jasmine flower crown i made on your hair, carefully picking each stray strands and tucking them in that halo handmade only for the dearest guardian angel who was protecting my wounded heart. the flower crown was far from the perfection i wanted it to be but with you, any imperfections felt perfectly right. we couldn't care how those flower petals were gradually falling apart from my clumsy handiwork because nothing glowed more radiantly than us in each other's windows of the soul. and in my soul's window, those dusts could really be stardusts only when they danced to a carefree breeze that smelt pleasantly of jasmines around your sunkissed figure.

how i wished this blissed trance could last forevermore, wished clockwork went backwards, way back so i could be there to stop the death of all of your memories of me and your love for me that happened when you were going to get me a bouquet on our anniversary. i wished i could cry to you that i didn't need a bouquet, didn't need you to get me anything but to stay inside with me, away from all the unexpected horrors of this world that could threaten to sever our seemingly unbreakable love. but no matter how invincible i thought it must've been, it was nothing but a fragile jasmine that was yet to have completely bloomed, too small and too weak to withstand a storm after the illusions of a sun.

still, i’d wait for a new jasmine to bloom, wondering when you’d love me again.