Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind - Additions and Edits
I spent a lot more time focusing on editing and writing poems to add to Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind the latter half of this week, so I’ll write right into it.
10/9/2026
Finished editing A Kindred Chasm, Divination’s Delusion, and wrote a new poem completely impromptu, titled what’s left?
Shortened A Kindred Chasm’s title to Chasm
Added two additional stanzas to Chasm to add more vibes of wistful lamentation and contrition
Added more alliteration and rhymes to aforementioned additional stanzas
Chasm
I want to believe that I can see them,
the microcosms in the molecules,
the infinitesimal simulacra
shining in each tear trickling
down from my timid eyes,
teeming with tales of sorrow
unearthed and suppressed,
abated and created,
shimmering and reflected
in translucent teardrops that I produce,
that everyone produces,
but this time, it’s my abuses
that are transduced.
The image of my roommate crying in the bathroom because I banged on her wall;
the tears flooding down the face of the woman I love
who’s trying to make sense of it all;
of my senseless actions;
these stories, shared through sorrow
that I’ve written into reality
through my hateful reaction
all but broke the home I wanted to take care of;
striking the people closest to me
with sadness, stinging, and solitude;
dominating the space I was invited to share,
leaving us all, lovers and kin alike
with a chasm that may not be repaired.
Even if proper, human care is taken,
If lines of communication are carefully rebuilt,
it doesn’t mend the faith I’ve shaken
and it doesn’t absolve me of guilt
for the actions I’ve taken
to hurt familiars out of resentment-
to deprive a lover and their kin of safety
in their safe haven
with the malice I wrought
as an insecure craven
replacing the kindness I forgot
with bullying brazen
and avoidance that left
those around me, distraught.
Even as I acknowledge my wrongdoings,
as I attempt to do better and righter
by victims of my aggressive passivity;
one who I pretended didn’t exist,
and one who I exhausted with emptiness,
I know not if we will speak again
in light of the wounds I’ve salted and reopened
still being sore,
But I want to treat them better
than I did before;
to fulfill my obligation
to try to repair the damage I’ve dealt
to a lover’s kinship with her sister,
for regardless of whether feelings are still felt,
I don’t want them to remain blistered
by hurt and hollowness;
I want them to be happy and fulfilled,
given time,
with or without me.
Chasm is the 36th poem to be added to Cries of a Calloused Mind: A Choleric Poetry & Prose Collection
Edited the 3rd stanza of Divination’s Delusion to include more fluid rhymes
Added a 4th stanza to Divination’s Delusion
Added more details alluding to history, reconstructed Druid beliefs, and my recent issues
Divination’s Delusion
The gods that I pray to;
the empyreals who receive my
offerings of follicles and flora
are the same deities who died
with the Druids at Mona;
devotees rent asunder in their own lands
by Empire’s Roman hands,
so must I persist with my lies,
believing my prayers will be answered;
that my offerings will be received
by broken beliefs of a people bereaved
for nearly two thousand years?
I think I must,
For I don’t think I trust
anyone else with my desires;
my delusions, my dejection;
the truth about the love I abused;
my seclusion and my projection;
my grappling with romantic rejection
from a relationship I battered and bruised
more than I nurtured and mused
for over two years.
The corpses lining Carcosa’s crust and creeks;
tombstones entrenched, from crevice to crag
and the pantheons buried with them
are the company in which I confide my worship,
my desires to grow and change;
my wishes for peace for those I’ve estranged;
the only recipients of rue that I trust
to beseech for fruitful harvest
from my efforts, actions, and endeavors
through my offerings of lush greens I’ve grown
and tangles of dead flesh I’ve brushed
to be degraded, decomposed, and forever
subsumed into their substrate
entombed in the soil on which I lay
myself ever-prostrate
in my fool’s hope that they will help
me mend the hurt I’ve spread;
the pain I’ve purveyed,
the abuse I’ve inflicted
upon the world amid my aggravation,
inflicting it upon the people in it with my anger;
upon those to whom I grew addicted
to loving and hugging
before I became
hurtful and unbecoming
of the being I wanted to be
toward the people who just wanted to see
me get better
only to watch me get worse
as I turned ever-more bitter
and grew in reverse
for over a year.
I still pray, I still beg, I still beseech
the soil, the sky, and the stars
for wisdom and guidance to teach
me how to grow past my abuses
that should’ve put me behind bars;
how to heal the hurt in others
that I’ve caused thus far,
and I grow against it,
my natural urge to stagnate;
I continue to fight it
as I try every day to create
new outlets for my fixations;
new release valves for the volcanism in my chest,
erupting with the guilt of my hateful crimes
towards those I held abreast,
And I know
that it is not Ceridwen who helps me transform
no matter how many rituals for her I perform;
it is myself,
my self that I’m trying to reform
through forgotten faith
and playing catch-up
with all I still want to create
in the years yet to come.
Divination’s Delusion is the 37th poem to be added to Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind: A Choleric Poetry & Prose Collection
Wrote another poem, titled what’s left?
what’s left?
I… I lack words;
I lack syntax, I lack semantics;
I have neither morphemes nor dreams
left to express;
it’s all scattered, it’s all meandering,
and clinically, chronically depressed;
it’s all fatigued, it’s all bereaved;
yet it’s ever so easy to envision the best.
But what is the best, if not tainted
by all the biases I have ingrained?
all of the passes and sleights I couldn’t contain;
not even my feelings are immune to deception,
just as my tongue was tied from conception,
my brain is entangled now in sorrow and hate
that it can’t quite articulate,
no, that it never quite could
because I would never try
to make myself understood
without making others cry.
All that remains are feelings that lie and meander,
that offer no insight, guidance, or answers;
they flutter and fall, they wind and whizz,
and the worst rewind, while the best wreak havoc
upon my mind;
for it’s all a farce; it’s all filtered, it’s all fake,
but it’s all I have left in my grief’s wake…
…until I find a way to make other’s beings quake;
to shed the patterns that shook the faith
that the hearts I broke
and the folks I hurt
placed in me
to care and relate;
to clearly communicate,
I’ll craft and create;
I’ll study and cite;
I’ll work and I’ll write
I’ll counsel and reflect
just to catch a sight
of the person I was
when we met;
Of the person I might
become again.
what’s left? is the 35th poem to be included in Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind: A Choleric Poetry & Prose Collection
being one of the less optimistic poems in the collection, it is included prior to Chasm and Divination’s Delusion as an emotional counterweight that is then balanced by the following two poems (preceding, in this blog’s case).
10/10/2026
Downloaded Audacity and began recording poems via Audacity (previously used Voice Memos via iOS, with .ogg files) for recordings with better audio quality and easier sound-polishing and cleanup
Quickly learned that Audacity’s documents are not compatible with SquareSpace’s audio-block feature
Shaked anxiety-support fidgets in frustration
Researched recording software compatible with SquareSpace’s audio-block feature
requires mp3, mp4, or .ogg files
most higher-end audio recording softwares require membership subscriptions for extended recordings (>2 minutes)
Edited the text formatting of Cries of a Quite Callous Mind’s working cover art to more closely resemble its predecessor, Sighs of a Once-Defeated Heart.
10/11/2026
Wrote another poem, titled Dereliction’s Reflection
No draft or edit, another impromptu ode
Dereliction’s Reflection
The droplets splatter against
my brother’s old couch
as I reminisce about
all the good things
that I miss without
the person who brings
the best in me out,
or used to, anyway,
before the days
after my mind
went astray
because of actions
I chose to take.
The synth notes sing in my ears
through new sleeping gear
as I ponder the past;
before I took the drugs
that pulled out the rugs
from beneath my soul
that darkened with hatred
as I grasped for control;
Before I darkened my devotion
into obsessive domineering;
before I stranded her sister
amid oceans of silence and fearing
that she would be forever stuck
with my abuse without clearing
the air on why
I made her cry
when she was just trying
to get by
like you and I.
The bombs drop from the skies
and have for three years, now
across all of Palestine;
countless bodies beneath rubble,
countless more children have died;
uncountable homes vacated
and lives left behind
at the hands of Empire
that I desperately tried
to chastise with words;
to write a reflective mirror
for the pain Empire vied
not to make any clearer
only to realize
that I was the mirror
as I grew ever nearer
to the hate I descried;
The deniability I deflected with;
the bullying I did to divide
you from her
to keep you as mine,
I was a loser,
then an abuser,
stealing your time
from the things that stopped you
from losing your mind.
In those three years,
since I had left behind
fields of corn and crows
to estates of cows and mines,
I grew ever-more-bitter
towards the loves I would find
through looking for places fitter
to soothe my sordid mind
and cauterize my cleaved heart
that had already bled so dry
for reasons I didn’t know then,
nor reasons I knew when we met,
and I still don’t know why,
which is why I think
it’s time to say goodbye,
here at the brink
of the times we made fly by
so I am no longer able to hurt you
or your sister, or your family
for reasons you or I don’t know why;
so I can no longer burden you
when my bodymind atrophies
as my creativity declines;
so you can be happier
with someone who inclines
toward nuance and complexity;
towards the art and humanity
that I denied to maintain
in myself
because I wouldn’t
move past my pain
that I put on
everyone else.
I’ve said I’m sorry before,
And I’ll say I’m sorry again,
but I know I’ve said it many times
while promising to mend
mishaps, mistakes, and missteps
that I repeated without end
that exhausted you
and hurt your friends,
but I really am sorry
for hollowing you out;
for hurting your sister
into moving herself out;
for not working to sustain
the great thing we had;
for souring the thought of life together
because of the sadness
I cursed your memory of me with;
because of the madness
I allowed to override our bliss;
because of the self-reflection
I continued to resist—
that I embrace now
as a way to bear, to exist
with the weight of the pain
I put you through
so that arrears can be made
whether or not
our love flickers and fades
without rekindling,
the things I never want
are to see your Joy dwindling
or to see your pain haunt
your ability to love others
and lavish the world
with the work you’ll uncover
from the Universe you’ve created;
with the tools you’ve developed
through discipline unabated,
oh please,
continue to let your heart envelop
others
with the projects you’ve curated.
Dereliction’s Reflection is the 38th poem to be included in Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind: A Choleric Poetry & Prose Collection
Updated the table of contents in Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind .doc file
page numbers are accurate, poem titles are accurate to page numbers, and all poem headers are the same.
what’s left?, Chasm, Divination’s Delusion, and Dereliction’s Reflection now all have links in table of contents .doc file
10/12/2026
Downloaded Microsoft Sound Recorder to record poetry in .mp4 files compatible with SquareSpace audio blocks
Recorded readings of what’s left?, Chasm, Divination’s Delusion, and Dereliction’s Divination
Uploaded readings to the Writing Projects page for Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind under header “Thus Spoke Laurentia”
Readings of most recently completed poems will be regularly uploaded under this header; another header for Sighs of a Once Defeated Heart will be added with rotating featured readings
Updated featured image of Cries of a Quite Calloused Mind to feature most-recent draft of working cover art
updated table of contents images & re-added alt-text to both
Sohlmulacrum Volume I - Abode to Terrodia - Worldbuilding and Writing
Along with the odes comes progress on Abode. Details lie below.
10/9/2026
Further developed Burrowers (primordial worms)
reddish-brown radially-symmetric cylindrical bodies have been updated to include setae in addition to light-gray rings of short prongs
setae helps burrowers transduce vibrations to electrical signals, detect moisture to reside in, and digestible material from the substrate
otherwise blind/eyeless with no developed ocular senses
still an extant species by the beginning of Abode to Terrodia in-universe
Further developed Xenoxyles (underground woody-fixtures with surface bush-blossoms)
“rutsken” (outer protective layer of woody fixtures) is pigmented black and reddish gray
black and brown lichens engage in a symbiotic relationship with xenoxyles, inhabiting their woody-fixtures
Researched potential effects of red-dwarf suns (like Abode’s) on plant pigmentation & sky color
in order to absorb as much available light as possible, plants may be pigmented black or gray
black and gray chlorophyll analogues may not even evolve on red-dwarf-orbiting planets
skies may be pigmented red with hints of blue due to different light wavelengths emitted by a red dwarf star and different particle-scattering of light in disparate atmospheres
10/10/2026
Rewrote & edited 1st chapter of Abode to omit exposition in favor of further developing Erekhule’s and Auphula’s relationship and antics
Excerpt is below:
Two nymphs scurried together in the dirty, dank tunnels of their colony’s galleries, barely a body length apart. Their three pairs of pale legs each moved in unison to avoid each other, lest they be pricked and tickled by each others’ claws. Find food, not!, Auphula, the leading nymph wiggled her large, creamy-white abdomen in a triangular motion, and bumped into the other nymph, Erekhule. She playfully sent them crashing into a nearby mud deposit, which also happened to communicate that water was close. Water could mean waters, which the Hul Kolne they called home forbade regressing back to. No pools yet, Auphula’s long antennae twitched where she had shoved Erekule, and she chittered, Except mudbaths.
Erekhule struggled to shake their head and abdomen free from the muddy tunnel wall; Auphula’s push got them pretty stuck. Erekhule tapped some drier mud with their free right legs, We must be closer. They rapidly tapped the floor with their hindleg, too fast for Auphula to count, This many footfalls closer! Auphula’s mandibles clicked, More cycles made Erek sillier. Erekhule tried clicking their mandibles back, but chewed mud in the tunnel wall by accident. Auphula clicked faster and longer, signaling her amusement at Erekhule’s plight. Silliest Erek, I get you out. Auphula gently pulled Erekhule’s head rightward out of the wall with her mandibles, and Erekhule wiggled their abdomen out of the tunnel wall. After more pulling and wiggling, Erekhule emerged out of the muddy wall and landed on the coarse tunnel floor beneath them. Auphula tapped her legs together The waters await! Erekhule, still laying on the ground, shook their head, Waters not for play.
After being shoved by Auphula, Erekhule’s left side was coated with drying mud. They stood themself up on their hindlegs and midlegs, and tapped their forelegs together. Moisture here, safe to drink. Auphula scurried back to Erekhule, and poked the gray mud with her foreleg claws. Moist, not wet, Auphula noticed as the mud gently sprung back after she poked it. Water is further, Auphula’s antennae twitched and her mandibles clicked. As she started to scurry, Erekhule leaped onto the back of her abdomen. Auphula stumbled a little further before falling to the ground, with her belly brushing against the coarse gallery soil beneath her. Kint! Auphula slammed the gallery floor with her forelegs and midlegs, and her antennae sensed Erekhule’s footfalls scurrying further ahead of her. They were going to find water before she was. Kint! Auphula jumped to her claws and scurried along after Erekhule, scurrying ever further from the safety of the drier galleries.
Began researching troglomorphism, or how creatures have evolved traits and phenotypes more suited to subterranean living
little to no pigmentation of skin/exoskeletons resulting from generations adapting to little to no sunlight exposure
lack of eyes/underdeveloped ocular organs resulting from generations of little to no light to transduce sensorineural electrical signals from
development of alternative organs highly sensitive to movements in water, vibrations, scents and sounds in subterranean environments
Researched primitive cockroaches and roachids to better develop the protoinsectoid “progenitors” of the xeno-insectoid Auphula and Erekhule
roachids evolved veiny wings, possibly from gills or legs, adapted for quick, energy-intensive bursts of aerial movement
roachids evolved long legs, analogous to modern-day tree crickets, adapted for quick terrestrial movement
female roachids had (relatively) advanced ovipositors (egg-laying organs) but lacked the ootheca (egg pods) to carry them, likely depositing eggs directly into soil, mud, foliage and other substrates
10/11/2026
Continued research into troglomorphism and troglobites (not to be confused with troglodytes; troglobites means cave dwelling organisms that are adapted obligately to subterranean environments)
species living in subterranean environments adapt to lower food availability therein with lower metabolic rates & less physical activity
some exceptions to evolutionary tradeoffs of vision loss in exchange for sensory adaptations to subterranean environments
retainment of vision in some species is not clearly understood (oooo sci-fi gapfilling here we come)
genetic expression linked to eye development gets suppressed by other genetic signals from genes responsible for development of troglomorphic traits
genetic links can also be correlated with loss of unrelated traits, such as loss of both eyes and skin protection (softer exoskeletons and/or lack of scales)
Began researching directional selection and its impact on organisms developing troglomorphic traits
individuals having traits at one extreme of phenotypic distribution can make an individual fitter to an environment than individuals with traits that are median from or at the opposite-extreme of the phenotypic distribution
allele frequency (and thus proportion of population) shifts toward the environmentally-fit extreme phenotypes over time
reductive traits (i.e. losing vision) and constructive traits (i.e. increased leg length and organ sensitivity) occur at about the same pace following a species’ transition from surface-dwelling to subterranean-dwelling
Added more life to Abode’s inter-strata
lichens (need to develop and research further)
grow on xenoxyles, share a common ancestor with black algae
food source for proto-insectoids and xeno-insectoids
diverse in color and appearance (red, white, gray, black, with powder and leafless filaments)
icthans
eyeless, pale fish
food source for deep-shades
wash ashore as carcasses, food source for proto-insectoids
very small, almost translucent, with few discernable scales
ray-finned
Organized Obsidian vault for worldbuilding & writing
linked source materials to the notes they are referenced in with header-specific links
10/12/2026
Researched Lichens (no new integrations of research into Abode)
Made this heckin’ update
Life Updates
10/12/2026
interviewed for 2 jobs (part-time library assistant and full-time gas station clerk) to pick up expenses for buying ISBN’s, publishing, and school in light of unlivably low tutoring hours relative to pay
In Conclusion
It’s been a week. Four poems, rewriting a 20-page chapter, and condensing all of my research and worldbuilding into a semi-soundable and digestible scream into the void while planning to go back to college, job searching, and caring for my grandma in hospice has been a lot. But it’s a lot I’m processing through my writing, in addition to some internalizations I’ve developed as a consequence of hurting people close to me. But life goes on, and so do these posts.
Clarity in Action & Solidarity in Purpose,
~Laurentia.
