@ciar.bsky.social

@ciar.bsky.social

445 Followers 2632 Following

πŸ³οΈβ€πŸŒˆπŸ³οΈβ€βš§οΈπŸ©·πŸ’œπŸ’™ They/He, 30+・ζ—₯本θͺžγƒ»GB・DE Writer, translator, language connoisseur. On the autism spectrum. Posting my poems and cats. Here for the (NSFW) artists, reading recommendations, and news. TW for potential topics: Blood/gore, sexual/explicit scenes

A photo of my senior Ragdoll cat. She's lying across the edge of a sofa and pet stairs leading up to it, half-splooting her hindlegs on the sofa and having tucked under her front legs on the highest pets stairs' step. She's looking down the stairs in front her - or possibly asleep. Her fluffy grey tail is draped nicely behind her.
A photo of my fluffy senior Ragdoll cat. She's asleep on a striped blanket, lying on her side with her fluffy grey tail wrapped around and up to her head where it covers her face. She's hugging her tail close and looks sickenly cute.
One of two photos of my senior Ragdoll cat. She's lying asleep on her side on top of a striped blanket, the camera is focused on the pink toe beans of her white hindlegs which are in the foreground.
Poem by me, Ciar, white font on black background: What was it I needed to write down To keep visible with symbols on paper With ink on books With scars on smooth surfaces It's so irritating To lose sleep over all of it: The incessant hissing noise, hustling, pushing, fussing Of the thoughts And there's no turning it off Just continuous grinding thoughts to dust But I'll get my shite together I will I might already be Whisper the symbols on my skin – by Ciar, 14/06/2026
A photo of a very fluffy Ragdoll, a long-haired, white and grey coloured senior cat. She is curled up on the highest bed of a cat tree. She's asleep and one paw/arm is clutching her fluffy grey tail in whose tip she has buried her face.
A photo of a 19 years old Ragdoll cat lying in a soft, grey cat bed. She's sleepily looking past the photographer, her eyes already half-closed again, and it seems like her head will soon become too heavy to hold up. One small, white front paw is visible under her chest, her dark fluffy tail conceals her hindlegs.
A photo of an 18 years old Ragdoll cat sleeping on a dark grey cat bed. She's lying on her side, curled up in a croissant shape, with her legs stretched out over her head. Her fluffy tail reaches up to her surprisingly pink paw toe-beans.
Photo of a fluffy Ragdoll cat sleeping on a grey afghan. She's curled up, her right paw clutching her fluffy grey-brown tail whose tip reaches her face.
Photo of an 18 years old Ragdoll cat sleeping on a light grey bedspreat. She's lying on her side, eyes closed, her grey-brown tail almost curled up to her dark-brown face. Half of the picture is just her long, fluffy, white fur.
Poem typed in light colour on dark background: Dig your bitten down crescent nails Deep into your flesh Ominous clouds keep the moon from watching Gut yourself until All those dying innards are dissected Laid bare in a safe distance to Your dripping wet, red, sticky fingers Languidly glinting stars couldn't care less One down, six to go Title: Sennight
Poem in light text on dark background: Breathe through the night When your thoughts keep wandering This promising, confusing world with you strapped into the backseat Keep breathing through the night When your mind tells you all about Unattainable possibilities Laughing at your daydreams in the small hours Breathe through the night And when your mind grows tired After running wild for fifty hours straight Lay your weary head to rest and Breathe until you fall asleep tonight Title: In the Small Hours
Poem in light text on dark background: The last magic was white And worked wonders After a while Until it didn't I miss it, I want it, I don't This one is sunflower yellow And hasn't done shit Apart from making the sunflower Yellow-white sun my enemy I don't want it, I want The white magic back Or any other as long as It does work wonders again Title: Yellow
A poem in light text on dark background: Every minute, that sickness twists your insides a little more Which is a lie β€” a lot more Gnarls and warps them with an uninvited sadism As if it was the only thing you can ever always rely on And it grins through your rising nausea Which is a lie β€” it screams That it is and always will be the only constant in your life Title: Fortnight
Poem in light text on dark background: It pierces right through your solar plexus And leaves you short of breath Short of words Short of functioning So you can't say that it hurts Somewhere in your chest although nothing's left Because all that ever was Suddenly escaped right down into that alluring, repellent black hole Taking something important with So you can't say that you're befallen by a homeless sadness Or that your nameless sadness is like A sentient ocean trying to drown you You can't say that something in your chest aches Cause you're out of breath Out of words Out of Order Title: Phase 8
Poem in light text on black background: Just fly away, says the black bird Just scare them away, says the white snake Just eat them up, says the grey cat But then it ponders, with its tail tip twitching And adds with a grin: But not before playing with them Twice as cruelly as they did you wrong And then, it finishes, very pleased, and then Just eat them up whole β€” Title: Poetic Justice
White poem on black background: Searching for something new Always, time and again There never is anything new under the sun There's nothing And still, you pick and pull strange pieces together Building, rebuilding, you try to create Rearrange those pieces For something akin to some thing new Title: New Things