Revisor
@revisor5.bsky.social
Art exists because reality alone isn’t enough. It lets us revise the world, line by line, truth by truth. And you—Revisor—move through it like an editor of meaning, finding the version that finally feels alive.
We taught people how to think fast, argue faster, and win loud.
We forgot to teach them how to care.
So now brilliance builds engines, but emptiness chooses where they drive.
Sometimes I can’t tell if this is a cruel joke or sincere incompetence.
Either way, the heart was never invited.
We forgot to teach them how to care.
So now brilliance builds engines, but emptiness chooses where they drive.
Sometimes I can’t tell if this is a cruel joke or sincere incompetence.
Either way, the heart was never invited.
January 27, 2026 at 5:11 AM
We taught people how to think fast, argue faster, and win loud.
We forgot to teach them how to care.
So now brilliance builds engines, but emptiness chooses where they drive.
Sometimes I can’t tell if this is a cruel joke or sincere incompetence.
Either way, the heart was never invited.
We forgot to teach them how to care.
So now brilliance builds engines, but emptiness chooses where they drive.
Sometimes I can’t tell if this is a cruel joke or sincere incompetence.
Either way, the heart was never invited.
A skeleton stands in a rain of fire,
facts melt first, truth burns thinner.
The future flickers, fed by chaos -
crossfire of stupidity, all sacrificed for almost nothing.
facts melt first, truth burns thinner.
The future flickers, fed by chaos -
crossfire of stupidity, all sacrificed for almost nothing.
January 26, 2026 at 5:12 AM
A skeleton stands in a rain of fire,
facts melt first, truth burns thinner.
The future flickers, fed by chaos -
crossfire of stupidity, all sacrificed for almost nothing.
facts melt first, truth burns thinner.
The future flickers, fed by chaos -
crossfire of stupidity, all sacrificed for almost nothing.
They can’t love. They can’t feel themselves or others. They don’t know who they are unless someone tells them.
So we become the degenerate ones - the weak, the strange.
Welcome to the House of the Degenerate, where feeling exists. We don’t need strength born from hate.
So we become the degenerate ones - the weak, the strange.
Welcome to the House of the Degenerate, where feeling exists. We don’t need strength born from hate.
January 25, 2026 at 5:54 AM
They can’t love. They can’t feel themselves or others. They don’t know who they are unless someone tells them.
So we become the degenerate ones - the weak, the strange.
Welcome to the House of the Degenerate, where feeling exists. We don’t need strength born from hate.
So we become the degenerate ones - the weak, the strange.
Welcome to the House of the Degenerate, where feeling exists. We don’t need strength born from hate.
Sometimes I wish we could leave our skin at home
- the polite, approved one.
Just be human without costumes.
But acceptance is hard, so we get dressed anyway.
Every day, another mask.
Every day, pretending it fits.
- the polite, approved one.
Just be human without costumes.
But acceptance is hard, so we get dressed anyway.
Every day, another mask.
Every day, pretending it fits.
January 24, 2026 at 7:26 AM
Sometimes I wish we could leave our skin at home
- the polite, approved one.
Just be human without costumes.
But acceptance is hard, so we get dressed anyway.
Every day, another mask.
Every day, pretending it fits.
- the polite, approved one.
Just be human without costumes.
But acceptance is hard, so we get dressed anyway.
Every day, another mask.
Every day, pretending it fits.
Love is a kind of hunger: sharp, basic, loud. It’s a language you have to learn.
Even monsters love - with terrible roars, cruel claws, pointed teeth.
They just have to be careful that
“I’ll eat you because I love you”
doesn’t stop being metaphor and start being true.
Even monsters love - with terrible roars, cruel claws, pointed teeth.
They just have to be careful that
“I’ll eat you because I love you”
doesn’t stop being metaphor and start being true.
January 23, 2026 at 8:24 AM
Love is a kind of hunger: sharp, basic, loud. It’s a language you have to learn.
Even monsters love - with terrible roars, cruel claws, pointed teeth.
They just have to be careful that
“I’ll eat you because I love you”
doesn’t stop being metaphor and start being true.
Even monsters love - with terrible roars, cruel claws, pointed teeth.
They just have to be careful that
“I’ll eat you because I love you”
doesn’t stop being metaphor and start being true.
Once, the hunter lifted the fish high - proof of skill & survival. Now trophies are lifted to be seen, not earned, minted by prestige economies that sell worth from above. When symbols replace labor, achievement becomes theater, and ego eats before anyone else.
January 22, 2026 at 8:26 AM
Once, the hunter lifted the fish high - proof of skill & survival. Now trophies are lifted to be seen, not earned, minted by prestige economies that sell worth from above. When symbols replace labor, achievement becomes theater, and ego eats before anyone else.
Friendship needs tending. Even cacti die if you stop checking the light. Love isn’t a memory of effort, it’s maintenance.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
January 21, 2026 at 4:56 AM
Friendship needs tending. Even cacti die if you stop checking the light. Love isn’t a memory of effort, it’s maintenance.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
Saying “I love you” without showing up is just pantomime gardening - big gestures, empty can.
At best, that’s tolerance with nostalgia.
This won’t end well.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
January 20, 2026 at 4:59 AM
This won’t end well.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We’ve decided the old warnings are outdated, the patterns coincidental, the scars just aesthetic. Again.
History doesn’t argue. It just waits.
We turn experience into plot because randomness scares us. Stories soothe, simplify, pretend the world makes narrative sense. But life keeps improvising. When the story gets too neat, it stops being meaning and starts being a leash.
January 19, 2026 at 5:29 AM
We turn experience into plot because randomness scares us. Stories soothe, simplify, pretend the world makes narrative sense. But life keeps improvising. When the story gets too neat, it stops being meaning and starts being a leash.
Humans aren’t finished products. We’re patchwork: half-built wants, old fears, borrowed dreams.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
January 18, 2026 at 6:19 AM
Humans aren’t finished products. We’re patchwork: half-built wants, old fears, borrowed dreams.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
We crave being done, then panic when we aren’t.
We assume others are complete, and decide the flaw must be us.
The moths whisper that ambiguity can be beaten into shape. Soundbites. Labels. Keywords. If it’s simple, it must be smart. They chant it tirelessly, circling the light, proud of how fast they stopped thinking.
January 17, 2026 at 9:10 AM
The moths whisper that ambiguity can be beaten into shape. Soundbites. Labels. Keywords. If it’s simple, it must be smart. They chant it tirelessly, circling the light, proud of how fast they stopped thinking.
1. Pause.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
January 16, 2026 at 5:13 AM
1. Pause.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
2. Name the absurd thing out loud.
3. Check reality with someone you trust.
4. Refuse to call chaos “how it is now.”
5. Breathe. Sanity still exists.
You’re standing in it.
Real happiness has to be learned. Without it, people confuse safety with control and joy with winning. It’s sad, really - when the only way you know you’re alive is making sure someone else feels smaller.
January 15, 2026 at 6:55 AM
Real happiness has to be learned. Without it, people confuse safety with control and joy with winning. It’s sad, really - when the only way you know you’re alive is making sure someone else feels smaller.
I have a bad day, grunt it into the room, become an unfair little troll. You’re hurting too, yet you nod, absorb it, try again, and smile. I keep wondering - where do you get that kind of strength?
January 14, 2026 at 6:16 AM
I have a bad day, grunt it into the room, become an unfair little troll. You’re hurting too, yet you nod, absorb it, try again, and smile. I keep wondering - where do you get that kind of strength?
Context matters. Violence from above is policy wearing armor. Violence from below is what’s left when every peaceful door is sealed. If change is made impossible, pressure doesn’t vanish - it breaks containment.
January 13, 2026 at 6:53 AM
Context matters. Violence from above is policy wearing armor. Violence from below is what’s left when every peaceful door is sealed. If change is made impossible, pressure doesn’t vanish - it breaks containment.
I walk like I’m being watched. Not by one eye — by thousands. Streetlights blink, windows gossip, my shadow files reports.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
January 12, 2026 at 5:58 AM
I walk like I’m being watched. Not by one eye — by thousands. Streetlights blink, windows gossip, my shadow files reports.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Nothing is watching you, except the thousand eyes doing inventory.
Two skeletons sink in the deep-sea dark,
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
January 11, 2026 at 8:05 AM
Two skeletons sink in the deep-sea dark,
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
mouths full of salt and old alarms.
“Absurd,” says one-
“inevitable,” says the other-
history forgetting itself, again, again.
Sometimes you dress up, not to impress, but to remember who you are.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
January 10, 2026 at 8:13 AM
Sometimes you dress up, not to impress, but to remember who you are.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
Self-care isn’t selfishness. Egoism ignores others; self-respect makes you able to meet them. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you - but it matters what the people who rely on you can count on.
I watch a moth give advice to someone who can’t decide. It promises clarity, points at the brightest option, flattens emotion, culture, reason into something manageable. The person waits for answers without choosing. The moth means well. The burn marks suggest otherwise.
January 9, 2026 at 3:53 PM
I watch a moth give advice to someone who can’t decide. It promises clarity, points at the brightest option, flattens emotion, culture, reason into something manageable. The person waits for answers without choosing. The moth means well. The burn marks suggest otherwise.
When something needs doing, you get three honest options: lead, follow, or step aside. Each comes with duties, none with moral shortcuts. It’s a shared effort. If you chose the sidelines, your criticism only counts when harm is done. Otherwise, you opted out - own it.
January 8, 2026 at 11:34 AM
When something needs doing, you get three honest options: lead, follow, or step aside. Each comes with duties, none with moral shortcuts. It’s a shared effort. If you chose the sidelines, your criticism only counts when harm is done. Otherwise, you opted out - own it.
“When life gives you lemons,” they say, like that’s comforting. Sure - lemons mean change, hope, potential sweetness. They also mean something went wrong first. Transformation is nice, but it still starts sour, especially these days.
January 7, 2026 at 6:27 AM
“When life gives you lemons,” they say, like that’s comforting. Sure - lemons mean change, hope, potential sweetness. They also mean something went wrong first. Transformation is nice, but it still starts sour, especially these days.
Be careful with labels - especially the ones that work too well. Every label needs a judgment, and every judgment needs reflection. It’s a cycle, not a verdict. Most labels should expire. Try fairness. Meaning lives in context, not permanence.
January 6, 2026 at 5:13 AM
Be careful with labels - especially the ones that work too well. Every label needs a judgment, and every judgment needs reflection. It’s a cycle, not a verdict. Most labels should expire. Try fairness. Meaning lives in context, not permanence.
It’s frustrating how one clean act of force, one loud projection of power, is enough for people to forget how rotten the ideology underneath is. Winning matters more than being right. Morality becomes optional until the power fades or loses. Then everyone suddenly remembers their values.
January 5, 2026 at 4:52 AM
It’s frustrating how one clean act of force, one loud projection of power, is enough for people to forget how rotten the ideology underneath is. Winning matters more than being right. Morality becomes optional until the power fades or loses. Then everyone suddenly remembers their values.
They say life is easy peasy lemon squeezy. Sure - if you ignore the lemons. Still, there’s coffee, sunny side up eggs, and a man walking his dog like neither of them has solved anything, and somehow that’s enough for today.
January 4, 2026 at 7:21 AM
They say life is easy peasy lemon squeezy. Sure - if you ignore the lemons. Still, there’s coffee, sunny side up eggs, and a man walking his dog like neither of them has solved anything, and somehow that’s enough for today.
Living in “interesting times” is exhausting. You can feel the learned helplessness humming in the walls, encouraged, rewarded, normalized. Still-giving up is exactly what it’s designed to produce. Don’t let yourself be scared quiet or distracted numb. We have too much to lose. I know. I’m tired too.
January 3, 2026 at 11:55 AM
Living in “interesting times” is exhausting. You can feel the learned helplessness humming in the walls, encouraged, rewarded, normalized. Still-giving up is exactly what it’s designed to produce. Don’t let yourself be scared quiet or distracted numb. We have too much to lose. I know. I’m tired too.