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@arielfigueroa.51: My mind overflows like color from a cup — bold, wild, unstoppable. My eyes stay wide open — I see everything, I fear nothing. They stare, they judge, they whisper... but they can't contain me. I'm art in motion, coffee in hand, dreams on fire, and a soul untouchable. I don't fit in a box. I paint outside of it. And I walk like I own every frame.

🧿✨arielfigueroa.51✨🧿
🧿✨arielfigueroa.51✨🧿
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Saturday 07 November 2026 11:08:27 GMT
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Maybe Next Year (If We’re Not Dead) I’m putting off the world again, After I swore that I wouldn’t. Made breakfast plans with destiny, But in the morning I just couldn’t. Fell in love with with all the saturated sins, Of a soul-crushing Saturday night. And then I stayed in my pajamas, Cuz’ I had no stomach for the fight. Ask me again in the near future, Right now, I’m not making plans. A darkened room lit by a flat screen, Workin’ on my blue light tans. We can talk about impending days, If I could ever get out of my head. We’ll be sure to live our lives - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead). Been tryin’ to fall off the side of the Earth, After I thought I had regained my bearings. Made decisions to simply leave the house, As I was chasing all my red herrings. Fell in love with subtle silences, Within a solemn solitary room. Before I started to realize, That it’s damn quiet in your own tomb. Ask me again in the near future, Cuz’ tonight I’m staying in. Got a laundry list of people to love, And I don’t even know where to begin. We can talk about tomorrow’s forecast, But it won’t ever rain in my bed. I’ll try, again, to leave my house - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead). A Blue Waved tsunami has, temporarily, Interrupted all my doom scrolls. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time, Before our regularly scheduled death tolls. It’s not that I don’t love people, Or that I’m afraid of my locality. Guess I’m simply trying to avoid, Our modern, fucked-up reality. Digging another hole in the ground, After I decided to live like a prepper. Been noticing that I’m being left behind, And avoided like a leper. Fell in love with eating social media, And filling up on dopamine deserts. Thinking I need real human connection, Because this loneliness hurts. Ask me again in the near future, I’ve decided to stay inside. It’s been too damned exhausting, Witnessing all the futures collide. We can talk about the end of days, At our Thursday lunches instead. I’ll keep trying to be better - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead).
Maybe Next Year (If We’re Not Dead) I’m putting off the world again, After I swore that I wouldn’t. Made breakfast plans with destiny, But in the morning I just couldn’t. Fell in love with with all the saturated sins, Of a soul-crushing Saturday night. And then I stayed in my pajamas, Cuz’ I had no stomach for the fight. Ask me again in the near future, Right now, I’m not making plans. A darkened room lit by a flat screen, Workin’ on my blue light tans. We can talk about impending days, If I could ever get out of my head. We’ll be sure to live our lives - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead). Been tryin’ to fall off the side of the Earth, After I thought I had regained my bearings. Made decisions to simply leave the house, As I was chasing all my red herrings. Fell in love with subtle silences, Within a solemn solitary room. Before I started to realize, That it’s damn quiet in your own tomb. Ask me again in the near future, Cuz’ tonight I’m staying in. Got a laundry list of people to love, And I don’t even know where to begin. We can talk about tomorrow’s forecast, But it won’t ever rain in my bed. I’ll try, again, to leave my house - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead). A Blue Waved tsunami has, temporarily, Interrupted all my doom scrolls. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time, Before our regularly scheduled death tolls. It’s not that I don’t love people, Or that I’m afraid of my locality. Guess I’m simply trying to avoid, Our modern, fucked-up reality. Digging another hole in the ground, After I decided to live like a prepper. Been noticing that I’m being left behind, And avoided like a leper. Fell in love with eating social media, And filling up on dopamine deserts. Thinking I need real human connection, Because this loneliness hurts. Ask me again in the near future, I’ve decided to stay inside. It’s been too damned exhausting, Witnessing all the futures collide. We can talk about the end of days, At our Thursday lunches instead. I’ll keep trying to be better - Maybe next year (if we’re not dead).
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