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iamnothereatall.bsky.social
I am not here at all.
@iamnothereatall.bsky.social
340 followers 290 following 1.5K posts
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Elder millennial. I write about the beautiful violence of being human. This is just my shitposting account.


https://cash.app/$h09ap
https://ngl.link/h09ap
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iamnothereatall.bsky.social
I am not here at all. @iamnothereatall.bsky.social · Nov 24
Haven't done this in a while. It's always surprising, but not surprising at the same time.

94% Voyeur
94% Rigger
94% Exhibitionist
93% Primal (Hunter)
89% Dominant
87% Owner
82% Experimentalist
81% Non-monogamist
78% Sadist
72% Degrader
72% Daddy/Mommy

bdsmtest.org/r/yaGdnauA
And pretentious black-and-white photo of a man wearing a bone-wolf mask. His body is draped partially in shadow. Hands losely clasped as he flexes needlessly.
Reposted by I am not here at all.
hailsalem666.bsky.social
Thank you to the ppl who’ve made a conscious effort to check in on me while I’m sick.

To the man who decided to be petty and ghost/ignore me bcuz I took time for myself after being in the hospital with my child for 24 hrs with no sleep, yurr a bitch and will never find peace.
BLOCKED
January 16, 2026 at 7:05 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Painting is cheaper than therapy. And it doesn’t ask questions.

#painting #mixedmedia #artastherapy
November 11, 2025 at 4:39 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Give me head. Missing mine.
A headless man poses in a shamelessly pretentious black-and-white photo of himself. Just another day in the interwebs.
November 21, 2025 at 8:47 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Haven't done this in a while. It's always surprising, but not surprising at the same time.

94% Voyeur
94% Rigger
94% Exhibitionist
93% Primal (Hunter)
89% Dominant
87% Owner
82% Experimentalist
81% Non-monogamist
78% Sadist
72% Degrader
72% Daddy/Mommy

bdsmtest.org/r/yaGdnauA
And pretentious black-and-white photo of a man wearing a bone-wolf mask. His body is draped partially in shadow. Hands losely clasped as he flexes needlessly.
November 24, 2025 at 3:07 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Thanksgiving reminder: these legs aren’t on the menu, but you’re welcome to give thanks anyway.

#blacksky #thickthighs #thirstsky #shortshorts #bw #hoochiedaddy
Black-and-white photo of a man standing in heart-emblazoned gym shorts and a hoodie. Legs framed on full display. The pose suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing. Because he does. You're welcome.
November 27, 2025 at 4:22 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Life has a way of mapping your life on your hands. Mine carry life and death.

Sometimes caffeine and a notebook make it more legible.

#hands #treeoflife #death #coffee
Throwback to me and these scarred-up hands. Proof I’ve lived a little, survived a little, touched the world harder than it touched me. Good morning.
November 29, 2025 at 1:17 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
This is another clock app transplant. It was a love poem I wrote to my best friend. @cruorcrypt.bsky.social

Will repost as spoken word if that's a thing people wouqld like.
December 8, 2025 at 3:17 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
A Psalm for the Mother of Memory (For the woman who gave me her hands before I knew how to hold anything) Blessed is the woman who sang to the moon with dishwater on her arms, who spun galaxies from laundry piles, who stitched dreams between the frayed edges of bills, whose voice I knew before I knew my own. She gave me my first language— not words, but warmth. The rhythm of her heartbeat was the first poem I ever memorized. She taught me to pray not with folded hands, but with open palms, with paint-stained fingers and a gaze that could see holiness in the broken, the bruised, the overlooked. She gave me art not as a lesson but as a way of seeing, as a survival— as breath. She made the world seem worthy of color In my mind, flowers bloom where she walks— cherry blossoms in November, marigolds breaking through concrete, ghost-lilies rooted in memory. She was my garden before I knew loss. My compass before I knew wandering. The first voice that called me worthy. She gave me stories before I could write, tales of courage whispered beneath blankets, mythologies of survival woven into bedtime. And now, as her mind fades— slow as dusk on the longest day— I become the keeper of those stories. Their lantern. Their monk. The woman who once brushed stars into my hair now forgets the years that wore down her name. She calls me “Love,” but sometimes does not know what love she speaks of. Still, I answer. I become memory’s steward. I carry her songs inside me, hum lullabies she no longer remembers inventing. I hold her grief like I once held her hand— gently, tightly, afraid to let go. She was the first one to see me. The first one to believe I was more than what this world would try to reduce. Her belief in me was not ambition— it was prophecy. She gave me fire and called it tenderness. She gave me silence and called it space. She gave me poetry and never once asked for credit. And now I give her back every good thing I have ever been. Every verse I write is an echo of her. Every act of care, a mirror. When the world speaks of saints, I think of her. Not with haloes or hymns, but with cracked hands, tired eyes, and a laugh that made even the dark things scatter. She is not gone. She is not vanishing. She is blooming backwards through me. Her forgetting becomes my remembering. I become the altar. The psalm. The son. The witness. For the woman who sacrificed me now becomes the one I sacrifice for. And I do so without resentment. Without regret. Only love— the kind that does not flinch at memory’s undoing. Even if one day she looks at me and does not know my name, I will still love her by the names she once called me. And I will remember for both of us. Because every good thing I am is her.
December 8, 2025 at 4:33 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Can you tell me what this poem is about?

#poetry
a poem reads: "she took my soul to let it swim where her words live with throated hums and whispers that glid across my skin like water my body became her neck her hands my cradle home became the place where we met and chose not to end with devotional insistence our joint prayer became as ceaseless as the rest her eyes gave me— swallowing my tension with wholeness"
December 10, 2025 at 12:54 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
My good boy. Voice reveal if you're into such things. Feel free to pretend I'm talking to you.
December 26, 2025 at 10:06 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Lol any scene from the ridiculous screenplay I'm writing about a drag clown.
December 26, 2025 at 10:28 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
White text on a black background. A minimalist poem reads: we shed shame together like old clothes i traced the ending of their features as if they would be my beginning and in that silence i carried their absence waiting to be split open to slip back into myself bare as skin clothed in hope [i am not here at all]
December 29, 2025 at 3:03 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
This is from my birthday trip to Seattle earlier in the year. Edibles, bong hits, breakfast cooked with infused oil. All-in-all as high as giraffe pussy. 🍃

Forgot I was on camera. Didn’t forget that I was happy. @cruorcrypt.bsky.social

#smoker #420life #infusedoil
December 30, 2025 at 4:39 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
kafkasconcubine.bsky.social
Hope you’re having a good evening
December 30, 2025 at 3:15 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
I have swallowed gummies. Gonna finish editing this weird shit. No artist yet, but I'm trying to focus on my werewolf comic and screenplay. This is just my idea of taking a break
January 2, 2026 at 11:05 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
I'm bored.
January 7, 2026 at 8:07 PM
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iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Cryptid 420.
January 7, 2026 at 8:52 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
“vor den Nasen einen langen Schnabel…” /"a long beak filled with sweet-smelling spices"

The plague doctor’s mask was designed to keep death at a distance. Does it do the same for desire? Some remedies invite closer inspection. Could they be the spice you need? 🌶️

onlyfans.com/kafkasconcub...
Engraving titled Der Doctor Schnabel von Rom (1656), showing a plague doctor wearing a long beaked mask, wide-brimmed hat, gloves and robe, holding a staff.
January 9, 2026 at 4:38 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Boredom. Random-ish photos from my camera reel.

#Alt4Me
January 13, 2026 at 1:57 AM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Staying sfw for a bit.
#mcm
b&w photo of me laying in bed w/ an ACDC shirt on.
January 13, 2026 at 2:04 AM
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
Subscribe 🤍 onlyfans.com/royalmeadow%...
January 16, 2026 at 5:22 PM
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
This is just cool. Please use your fingers to do the things. Support how you can.
January 16, 2026 at 5:19 PM
iamnothereatall.bsky.social
They deserve more follows. Fix it.
beethymee.bsky.social bee! (NSFW) @beethymee.bsky.social · Nov 24
hi hi!
I'm Bee! not new to #NSFWsky, just returning uwu
about me:

he/they!
pan + married uwu
proudly latino!
part time furry, full time dork x3

happy to be back!!!

interact + follow to be moots!

#nsfw #femboy #furry
January 16, 2026 at 5:16 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
kameronhurley.com
Finished up the Detective Agency book nook! Inspired by the extremely well-known "Detective Famous" agency. 😆
January 15, 2026 at 1:01 PM
Reposted by I am not here at all.
goddessasterinxo.bsky.social
Knife play really does make brain go brrrr 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
January 16, 2026 at 5:04 PM