He Is Very Very Small And The World Is Very Very Big

pen and ink drawing of the front half of an ant, coloured in red. it has blue tears coming from its eyes and a blue wobbly border around it

he is very very small and the world is very very big

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my art art traditional art original art pen insect ant bug bugblr ants antposting i would cry about this too

More Posts from Rumograph and Others

rumograph
7 months ago

happy one year to this !! check out this poem i wrote for its anniversary

Fireworks: A Guide To Appreciating Explosions While Still Sounding Sane [09.11.2023]
Fireworks: A Guide To Appreciating Explosions While Still Sounding Sane [09.11.2023]

fireworks: a guide to appreciating explosions while still sounding sane [09.11.2023]

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rumograph
3 months ago
tonight i lay to rest and i feel the ceramic crash over my head it is another friday and i am dragging myself over the potholes stripped of my ability to communicate through the dirt i am a man of a million faces and i have planned my death a million times over when i close my eyes i feel the seatbelt against my chest and when i wake up i am carving my name into my tombstone tonight i lay with the bones of foxes and we talk about how the headlights are just as beautiful as stars when you're face down in the gutter

roadkill // (tonight? tonight)

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poetry poem original poem rumos poetry car crash poetry 01.08.2024
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rumograph
3 months ago

making my alarm in the morning entry of the gladiators (again) and this time it will go well !

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personal i am just a poor clown & i need circus music
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rumograph
6 months ago
rumograph - is rumo real ?
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my art art traditional art original art rumos doodles
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rumograph
1 month ago
Looking At You With The Biggest Saddest Eyes Ever

looking at you with the biggest saddest eyes ever

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my art art traditional art ocs bugs original art pen insect bug bugblr bug oc grasshopper
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rumograph
7 months ago
Happy 1 Year Anniversary To My First Poem

happy 1 year anniversary to my first poem

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oh well Take. it. rumos poetry i dislike it so much i cannot describe it writing just seems too obvious this is a year old now i have no fondness for this anymore will tag this as poetry i guess out of pity
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rumograph
2 months ago

"i was standing in someone else's happiness begging to be let in" is such a poignant line you'd expect it to be from a poetry book or something but instead it's from james acaster's 1999 cold lasagne hate myself

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james acaster
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rumograph
8 months ago
Drew A Lighter And Wasn't Sure What To Fill The Space With. Beach Life-in-death It Is !!

drew a lighter and wasn't sure what to fill the space with. beach life-in-death it is !!

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my art art traditional art pencil car seat headrest csh lighters don't know what else ill draw on this page
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rumograph
6 months ago
rumograph - is rumo real ?
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my art art traditional art original art pen rumosona rumos doodles
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rumograph
2 months ago
You're on a sinking plane. A skeleton on a fish hook. Scrubbing the blood stains off the kitchen tiles. You're everything. It will all go sideways for you soon. But you're everything. Let's start again. You're dying from the outside in. Your brother noticed it before you did. He doesn't know how to help so you ended up staying the night at his and smoking on the roof together. You want to fall asleep up there & you tell him so & he doesn't say it but he is scared what you really want is to jump. He noticed it before you did. Can you link the stars in a way that makes you feel something? You could when you were a kid. Actually, did you feel something then? Take another cigarette when he goes back inside. He won't notice. Maybe he will. What I should say is he won't talk about it. It's Tuesday again. God. You drive your car like you're the hostage, the man gagged in the back, the body in the trunk. You take turns where you shouldn't. You see your blood seeping through the seats. You're meeting with your mother for lunch and you are sick & scared & tired. Outside the café there's an angel hanging limp in the power lines; a boy and his sister throw stones at it. Keep walking. You can't stop them. Lunch is nothing special and you leave with bleeding nails. You're dying from the outside in. Remember that. This is your life & you are cigarette ash. But you're everything. You still have time. Let's start again.

remember: from the outside in

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writeblr writing poetry poem original poem spilled ink rumos poetry 30.03.2025
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rumograph - is rumo real ?
rumograph
is rumo real ?

the underground is a burial the same way the road is a cemetery

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