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אברה (wingeater) (@wingeater) · DIRTY

אברה (wingeater)

@wingeater

248 limbs/365 vessels angel gore recycling system; ash-grey feathers /not a girl/ art by vich

498 Following901 Followers18,833 Posts

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אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· 24d

yeah I am,

discord screenshot, 6:30 AM
wingeater display pic, handle censored
in italics, the message reads "dissolving,,"

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· 25d

post a thirst trap, go smeared with dried plum and nutty-sweet aged cheddar

pale-pink fingers, smeared with purple-brown, holding a craggy bit of warm off-white cheese balanced in the cup of a small dark prune. nails painted black, palm cut by a black fabric. the background is a confusing welter; pink and black stripes, golden-yellow poster with a sooty figure, too-red burst of flowers, hints of black leather and wood

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· 25d

a black mug of Earl Grey with milk on a defocused ~granite counter. a bit of blurry wall and something transparent are visible in the background, and the edge of a red square with a teabag on it in the foreground. the tea wears a coronet of bubbles

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jul 13

Sagittarius sun is still quest purple #7A59C7, cancer moon is tidal blue #779CB9, Pisces rising is foam aura #87C8C5, and Scorpio Venus is wine velvet #8F3C55

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jul 13

x the everything app screenshot in which wingeater is quote tweeting Vivian @suchnerve "You're sick if you think it's sexy for someone to be covered in blood" and saying "that's why I have the best health insurance I can get"
Vivian has bangs
wingeater has a wing sprouting from its eye

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 28

another of these radial arrays, goots, ורד, wrens, yossi, maeve, silby, postes, lo-fi,, etc etc

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 26

discord message from wingeater (handle censored in faded raspberry), 6:32 PM:
, I mean
beautiful sunrises happen every morning
doesn't make them not interesting

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 24

if it's good enough for my food it's good enough for me

a blue carton of muscle milk pro 33g cookies n cream against dingy unfocused cardboard and steel grating

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 14

barred patterns, devolving
dull grey, and
throat-riot white,
cinnabar burns
across constantly shifting arms

still gold center
fits, hook-slick, over
pulse-mottled skin

heart, storm-leached,
leaden blue and shudder-laced,
flicks itself through
sodden with
slate bird-shit

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 14

from Phorfor, 1896, Matthew Phipps Shiel

That night I, too, took boat to the chapel. Areta, I found, had retired to her side-chamber. In front of the altar, on the spot where the body of Sergius once lay, another coffin, a malachite shell, now shimmered dully under a taper-glow; stretched, open, on the old trestles. In the headpiece was gold-inlaid the Key and angel-song, as before. Supine within lay a figure—a marble statue. I wondered at the minute burin, so intimate with the genius of death, subtle to catch in stone the inmost thought of the Azrael. Here was flesh twice mortal; here was Sergius himself, stiff-fixed in a sleep doubly eternal. As the Greeks in the days of their hairiest niceties over-painted every part of their marbles, wreathing the lips in rosy smiles of supernal loveliness; so here, with opposite hope was the figure painted over-all. Too clearly with opposite hope: for I knew not which to say prevailed in naked ghastliness, the stained face and slumbering lids, yellow as fennel; or the beard and lashes, matted black; or the leaden lips, or greenish ears, or livid finger-tips, or winding-sheet of gold.

As I stood regarding this effigy, lo, black velvet hangings parted before a doorway, and Areta, licked below the haunches by curling purplish tongues, loomed cold in a splendid unbroken gown of soft silk, all whiteness, like taper snowbergs, sun-smeared, clear against the black

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 7

I should actually open Merlin instead of just having it installed providing treats for the local cowbird population:

a male brown-headed cowbird nibbles on some birdseed mix on a grey wooden porch that's already picked clean of sunflower seeds. his politely folded black wings and body feathers are catching a gorgeous spill of blue-green iridescence against the soft brown of his head

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Jun 5

cropped screenshot from a comic book scan, all compression-artefacted black blocking and evening purples, with a block of scrawled text: Food for carrion angels.

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 25

since he's blocked me,

frankjeweetwelwie.bsky.social 4 hours ag...

Or you could even consider not being a Jew anymore, as a way of condemning what that religion has also produced. Without Jews, there was no Israel, and without Israel, well.. so give up the title. I was born and raised as Catholic, but also left that religion, for personal reasons.

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 22

screenshot of Google search for disregard, featuring the AI being stupid and also the Merriam-Webster definition for DISREGARD

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 14

no comment

a sloppy 13-pointed star. the thing has ignored 2 points for being too soft and declared it a 49% regular hendecagon

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 14

wingeater at seventh place on the charts for the seven-sided polygon with a seventy-seven percent rating

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 11

they made us do pages and pages of metric conversions as if moving a dot was a difficult concept! there's literally no math you're just moving a dot!

"I want to have actually different numbers in every single conversion so I can drill my arithmetic" okay sure walk with weights on, some of us want to get somewhere without getting injured

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· May 10

i've enough abyss

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 27

lovely morning

a broad view of some wetlands
in the foreground, flooded dark mud, sparse low greens, and bits of rotting log. beyond, a band of high pale gold grasses (like a covenant,,) separating off spring-bright deciduous woods on soft hills. the ski is blue, frosted with cloud-fleece

a zoomed vertical shot of the golden band of reeds and grasses from the other photo, centered on the dark indistinct shape of a very vocal female red-winged blackbird

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 26

screenshot of wingeater message marked 10:44 AM, "autistic neighbor child is doing recognizable mourning dove calls"

wingeater's display name in this server is "submissive and allopreenable"

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 19

tbf, jana's art practice specifically is buried in itself like a sick bird shoving its beak into a wound it made to check on the growth of the grubs there

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 15

no lies detected

pleasant font on a pleasant off-white (let's see Paul Allen's results) declaring that @manylimbedcrow, my x account, doesn't have sex

this time, Paul Allen's card has examined my bsky @ and declared me a power bottom

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 9

I'm letting the team down

a bowl of yellow-tinged broth with a spoon and two massah balls

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 9

Wohin O wohin Nelly Sachs tr Ruth and Matthew Mead published in O the Chimneys

Wohin O wohin

Wohin O wohin
du Weltall der Sehnsucht
das in der Raupe schon dunkel verzaubert
die Flügel spannt,
mit den Flossen der Fische
immer den Anfang beschreibt
in Wassertiefen, die
ein einziges Herz
ausmessen kann mit dem Senkblei
der Trauer.
Wohin o wohin
du Weltall der Sehnsucht
mit der Träume verlorenen Erdreichen
und der gesprengten Blutbahn des Leibes;
während die Seele zusammengefaltet wartet
auf ihre Neugeburt
unter dem Eis der Todesmaske.

Whither O whither

Whither O whither
you universe of longing
spreading your wings in the chrysalis
already darkly enchanted,
always describing the beginning
with the fins of fishes
in the watery depths which
a single heart
can sound with the plummet
of sorrow.
Whither O whither
you universe of longing
with the dreams of lost earths
and the burst vein of the body;
while the soul, folded, waits
to be born again
under the ice of the death mask.

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 8

half of a blood orange, with the beautiful gradient from clot-dark to dawn tip,

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 8

almost, blood

a blood orange, peeled in one piece except for a single fragment, splayed open in a hand. questionable footwear (not mine) visible on tile in the background

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 6

as described above, censored

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 6

wingeater display image, manylimbedcrow 9:08 AM

there's a different kind of joy, in closeness?
like if a shimmer could be made still,

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 6

Einem, der vor dem Tür stand from Niemandsrose Paul Celan tr Pierre Joris posted for @orphanim.bsky.social full text in German and English in both alts

EINEM, DER VOR DER TÜR STAND, eines
Abends:
ihm
tat ich mein Wort auf—: zum
Kielkropf sah ich ihn trotten, zum
halb-
schürigen, dem
im kotigen Stiefel des Kriegsknechts
geborenen Brader, dem
mit dem blutigen
Gottes-
gemacht, dem
schilpenden Menschlein

Rabbi, knirschte ich, Rabbi
Löw:

Diesem
beschneide das Wort,
diesem
schreib das lebendige
Nichts ins Gemüt,
diesem
spreize die zwei
Krüppelfinger zum heil-
bringenden Spruch.
Diesem.
…………
Wirf auch die Abendtür zu, Rabbi.
…………
Reiß die Morgentür auf, Ra—

TO ONE WHO STOOD BEFORE THE DOOR, one
evening:
to him
I opened my word—: toward the
changeling I saw him trot, toward the
half-
sheared, the
brother born
in the grunt's begrimed boot,
him with the bloodied
god-
member, the
chirping manikin.

Rabbi, I rasped, Rabbi
Löw:

This
one's word, circumcise it, for
this
one, write the living
Nothing on his spirit, spread
this
one's two
cripplefingers into the re-
demptive saying.
For this one.
………….
The evening door too, slam it shut, Rabbi.
………….
The morning door, throw it open, Ra—

EINEM, DER VOR DER TÜR STAND, eines
Abends:
ihm
tat ich mein Wort auf—: zum
Kielkropf sah ich ihn trotten, zum
halb-
schürigen, dem
im kotigen Stiefel des Kriegsknechts
geborenen Brader, dem
mit dem blutigen
Gottes-
gemacht, dem
schilpenden Menschlein

Rabbi, knirschte ich, Rabbi
Löw:

Diesem
beschneide das Wort,
diesem
schreib das lebendige
Nichts ins Gemüt,
diesem
spreize die zwei
Krüppelfinger zum heil-
bringenden Spruch.
Diesem.
…………
Wirf auch die Abendtür zu, Rabbi.
…………
Reiß die Morgentür auf, Ra—

TO ONE WHO STOOD BEFORE THE DOOR, one
evening:
to him
I opened my word—: toward the
changeling I saw him trot, toward the
half-
sheared, the
brother born
in the grunt's begrimed boot,
him with the bloodied
god-
member, the
chirping manikin.

Rabbi, I rasped, Rabbi
Löw:

This
one's word, circumcise it, for
this
one, write the living
Nothing on his spirit, spread
this
one's two
cripplefingers into the re-
demptive saying.
For this one.
………….
The evening door too, slam it shut, Rabbi.
………….
The morning door, throw it open, Ra—

אברה (wingeater)@wingeater· Apr 5

Erratisch, from Die Niemandsrose Paul Celan tr Pierre Joris

ERRATISCH

Die Abende graben sich dir
unters Aug. Mit der Lippe auf-
gesammelte Silben—schönes,
lautloses Rund—
helfen dem Kriechstern
in ihre Mitte. Der Stein,
schläfennah einst, tut sich hier auf:

bei allen
versprengten
Sonnen, Seele, warst du,
im Äther.

ERRATIC

The evenings dig themselves
under your eye. With the lip ga-
thered syllables—beautiful,
soundless round—
help the crawlstar
in their midst. The stone,
once temple-close, now opens here:

with all
the scattered
suns, soul,
you were, up in the ether.

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