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About Literature / Hobbyist NullibicityFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 7 Years
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I had a dream a mountain
told me what a woman was,
and I stood at her base
while she whispered of love.
She pointed up at the sun.
"This does not think it is much.
See, you have that in common...
you must accept you are enough.
Though frequently reserved,
you should still remember
that love freely given
is love that is treasured -
is love that returns."
The valley winds shook my ribs.
I was aware of empty,
how to criticize its depth,
when her gentle voice steeled:
"Do not criticize what manages growth
in the soil of a field
you've neglected to sow.
Life is about experience
and you, in your mind's view,
are what you produce."
The dream began to lessen
under her parting glance,
"Dare to stand fearless, m'iníon,
before your own significance."
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 14 9
ID - my face. by Nullibicity ID - my face. :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 7 7
Counting [company]
Thoughts create skylines
I try to see the stars through;
light pollution swallows
and burps up a moon
I have to shield my eyes to see.
It’s too artificial.
Slow footfalls down dead streets -
they don’t live here, anymore.
They don’t live here, anymore.
I count the wildflowers
stroking past my fingers
and ask them of loneliness.
They sing to me of the absence of stars
and I confide in them, softly, 
“It’s okay: I never see them, either.”
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 12 6
Hello, San Francisco by Nullibicity Hello, San Francisco :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 6 1
Love, Misery
Miserable people are everywhere.
The dental hygienist sees my tattoo
and launches into her couple’s therapy.
A 45-minute check up crawls
into the skin of a toddler
who continually stops to stare and stare,
its fist falling down its throat.
“What does it mean?” She asks.
“It’s a reminder,” I try, 
licking the vowels from my teeth.
There are too many people
in the room, and the ceiling keeps 
spelling "company" as I swallow
down my blood.
The window becomes an eye
that never blinks, 90 minutes
finding all its eyelashes
pulled out.
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 19 12
Cerulean by Nullibicity Cerulean :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 5 0 Brea(d)th by Nullibicity Brea(d)th :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 12 0 Reflect (Inner Mountains) by Nullibicity Reflect (Inner Mountains) :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 11 0
Senses of Proportion
I walk over dried worms, the day after rain, and wonder if their lives (defined by these last moments) were courageous or moronic. I wonder if I am the splinter or the lion—and who would be the splinter? Doesn't someone have to be?
I crawl on my hands and knees to find the river. Trees grow from its overflow. There has been too much rain this week. There has been too much rain this week. Where are the silver linings—the tree in front of me grows proudly as the water laps around its thighs. Ah, I muse, I think I understand the splinter.

Two trains come by. Two trains thunder through this railroad town, and they whisk the chocolate dirt. The earthquakes scare the geese. They blow by like dried leaves, and there, there is the sound of the river. Here [in the stillness] is the display of hope.
I cry in front of the river, longing to sing alongside chickadees—I do not know enough happy songs. I cough with the crows, instead: I do not know enough ha
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 43 20
Time looks wrecked,
like the coming home
of a sunrise, shoes in hand,
the put-together-ness
of a three piece suit:
snug, then suffocating.
You lead
with blind navigation,
echoes resounding
through revisitation
(though not all memories
are welcome).
Time is a serial killer
with an exceptional alibi,
its victims printed in the paper.
You change the locks
with shaking hands.
Time sends invitations
to your funeral in advance,
because it’s the kind thing to do -
smiles you into stone, sweeps effigies
into the dustpan of eulogies,
your name under “deceased.”
Your corpse gets up
to walk the procession.
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 10 9
winter sentry by Nullibicity winter sentry :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 11 0 one for sorrow by Nullibicity one for sorrow :iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 16 5
Your memory greets me
like a sun flitting between the trees;
it is an overcast day and
you do not know me.
The clouds linger where I disappear
on the hospital bed, thinking of how
you sleep with your casket.
Couldn’t they at least buy a better bed?
I think of how one bed begs more remembrance
than the line of pictures hung up on its curtain.
(I feel as if we keep playing ghosts in the bedsheets,
clothespins the only things holding them
up in your head; I watch them come loose over
and over again).
I bring your laundry, and the sun doesn’t shine
for your favorite blouse. I don’t tell you:
“you used to wear pink lipstick with this one,”
or how you always paired it with denim jackets.
Instead, I stuff it in the closet and hand you
the quilt when you remark on the chill.
I don’t let you see my hands shake
when I remember your ring in my pocket,
your figurines in my car, your house
freshly turned over, a new name in the dirt;
I kiss the bruises
on your wr
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 17 20
Aphasia and Bones
Life is like a hymn, mint
candy tucked into a pocket.
The stairs are creatures I tame
With a spinning mind, palms coaxing
them to docility.
Life sounds like a hymn,
but I empty my pockets and
there are only mint sticks of gum.
Courage is a poet on my tongue;
I could fix this. I could fix this.
I cannot read the letters glowing
beneath my thumb.
There is a water wheel spinning
and spinning inside of me
like a dog gnawing off its tail,
and I beat it down the sink
Coffin system,
clay signature -
I changed my name,
I changed my name;
now I feel defined.
Call me Wernicke, and I'd answer
dutifully, ideally, but probably
I'd turn your way and scream.
You can be Broca.
We both know you're Broca.
There's an epicenter to this storm,
but no words for navigation.
There are cars flying through the air
(if I receive a concussion maybe
it will change the functioning
of my brain)
and headstones clutched
to the ribs of skeletons
waving arms and teeth.
I want this in a way
I hav
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 25 21
Five Words In Place of Alone
I’m a lo
Come sit with me,
darlin', and please
take off your coat.
Tell me adventures
of the sun and the moon
and whatever else comes
in pairs or attractions.
Remember to give me those
five stars before you go.
a lo
a lo
in the mud
of a dried up
I’m a lo
           ading dock.
I’m a lo
           wering sun,
and you don’t have to worry
about me: consistency
is my horizon, predictability
my city. And remember those
stories? I'm a pair with the moon
and the stars and the absence
of sound, and until I rise in the ash
of proximity, I’ll always
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 26 11
O Wandering Woes
Oh, hello.
I've always been
the wand'ring girl,
but all I can ever find
is your ghost.
My city is Jericho,
and all I ever am
is their ghosts.
When my skin hangs low
and bloody from my heels,
I try to retrain my toes,
so forward is not a nightmare
but a direction I know
(oh, hello, alone) -
but all I ever find
is you in the snow,
climbing my legs to my spine
in a dead-man's hold,
a bruise addressed to me
from the cold.
I cry, and I wonder how it sounds
like a prayer for the road:
"I guess we're going home."
Goodbye, silver wolf,
but oh, hello.
:iconnullibicity:Nullibicity 9 11
Gods, remember way back when I used to do Soulstain Saturday music shares? I'm bringing them back. Some of you may be groaning. I probably won't update every Saturday as was tradition... maybe once a month. I've been especially feeling music, lately. For new people: hello. Maybe you'll want to unwatch my journals, but Soulstain Saturday is an awful display of alliteration for the purpose of sharing music that slips inside my soul and stays for tea. I usually only share one song, but it's been quite a while since I've officially shared a soulstain.

You're more than welcome to slip some of your favorite music into the comments. In the past, I've loved grabbing a coffee and exploring different genres and emotions. You'll learn I'm partial to indie, but my music tastes spread all the way from classical to rap, rock, jazz, etc. I'm always looking to explore, especially what other people find meaningful. 

I've been following vocals as they reverberate into frosty air - like the last breath, a sacred thing. I've been doing a lot of self work. I release pent up emotion through music. Music is a beautiful, beautiful addition to our world and I enjoy many shades and faces of it. Here are some close to my heart. Music gives me echoing company for pretty much any emotion I'm feeling. Maybe some of you will find company or connection in these. And if people don't like these, feel free to let me know, too! I just enjoy music, but I don't need to share it here as a journal. 

I'll be getting to my notes soon, for those who have left some for me. Apologies. I forgot how many events are in December, for me. Too many birthdays in close proximity - lots of late nights. I've returned home after 3am a little too often this month for my old-woman mind, who likes me to get about 10 hours of sleep if I'm to be remotely awake the next day. I don't often achieve that, so then people get graced with little ol' excessive-rambling, yawning, overcaffeinated(or undercaffeinated) me. Hello. My eyes are aching a bit and I think I might toddle off and faceplant somewhere soft-ish, soon. 

This will probably be my last journal of the year. My best wishes to everyone over this coming week. Stay safe! :heart:


Nullibicity's Profile Picture

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
22 years growing. Forest-dweller, friend of the moon, shy hermit crab... a pagan, seeking. I howl to coyotes at 1 in the morning and am a self-proclaimed music-swimmer (mostly, I drown).
Admittedly, I'm not very interesting, but I am fairly friendly. Feel free to drop me a line. Or a poem. Or your favorite song.
my activity on this site can be compared to guerilla warfare:
I'm currently attending school while working as a research assistant in two projects. (Why yes, I need to learn how to say "no" sometime. But it's bringing in the money.)
the heart:
trees, racing rivers, singing poorly to the moon, Lord Huron, Dead Poets Society, Pride and Prejudice, ambiguity.

nullibicity: n. - the state of being nowhere; non-existence.

My favorite word-weaver (I'm biased and not sorry): :iconsoundlesswhispers:

some truly amazing people you should know: :iconladybitterblue::iconcarmalain7::iconladylincoln::iconpennedinwhite::iconmozartsnemesis::iconakrasiel:


Add a Comment:
britsad Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
big announcement: love you! 🤗💓
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Saying hello. :heart:
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
:hug: Miss you, and sorry for being slow in responding to messages. 
(1 Reply)
Hfeather53 Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Stopping by to say hello. I hope you're well.
(1 Reply)
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Jan 30, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Happya2 by Alimera

I hope you have a beautiful day, dearest soul.

Sending so much love,
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday, Kelsi!
I hope today is as terrific as you are.
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the :+fav: on said the dirt to the garden.
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Another thanks for all you do.
(1 Reply)
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