<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Malice Blūm]]></title><description><![CDATA[Malice Blūm: A world of poetry, visual art, short stories, and lyrics.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Tue, 16 Jun 2026 08:16:01 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Succubus]]></title><description><![CDATA[This was one of my first digital drawings—a succubus. I was still learning line work, shading, and how wierd I was willing to take things. It started as a normal body, but soon became a little twisted. I was on a Discord call with my friend while drawing this. He used to watch me sketch while he played games. At one point, I was very zoomed in… working on her panties. His screen froze. And that’s when his stepmom walked into his room. He couldn’t minimize it. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t explain....]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/succubus</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a30f5814ec453ba572529c5</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Jun 2026 07:06:09 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_aacba9ff9fdd4198b1eccf5d30c73f87~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Too Pretty To Fail]]></title><description><![CDATA[[Trigger Warning] This poem contains metaphoric descriptions of sexual violence and may be distressing for some individuals. They told the garden child her blooms were all she’d need: no rain, just shallow soil, and sun to bask the seed. “Too pretty to fail,” they hummed with hollow praise, brushing trembling petals through a shadowed maze. She thought the sun was always kind and warm, that every touch was meant to soothe, not harm. She never knew how gentle light can burn, or how the roots...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/too-pretty-to-fail</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a30f49e4ec453ba5725298b</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Jun 2026 07:01:30 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Madeeha]]></title><description><![CDATA[A pencil portrait of a close friend and former neighbor. Her warm smile and bright eyes always had a kindness and humor to them, and I wanted to capture that feeling in graphite.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/madeeha</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a301d1573256d50c4efe268</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jun 2026 15:58:18 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_ce17bd147ad048aa98d9b6aba58a79be~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_737,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Ephemeral]]></title><description><![CDATA[Moments slip like grain through grasping hands.  Dreams drift like mist under waking skies.  Reach now — before dawn forgets your name. I wrote this poem as a reminder to myself that time is fleeting. Moments and dreams can slip away if we wait too long, so it’s important to pursue what we want now, before the chance passes.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/ephemeral</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a301ce773256d50c4efe247</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jun 2026 15:40:50 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[No Air]]></title><description><![CDATA[Living with asthma often feels like being trapped in a room with little or no air.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/no-air</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2e6d5d6ff4252af8f8610f</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Jun 2026 09:03:12 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_fa0a2d7517104dd085b580815289f114~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Thunder In The Veil]]></title><description><![CDATA[This world’s not built for us, chaos in motion, Too loud for their rules, too wild for devotion. Told us to shrink, fold wings in their hands, But we rise, we riot, rewrite all their plans. Lips sing spells — birth life or deny it, Sacred breath, no dollar can buy it. We move like oceans, crash, then calm, Holy in the hustle, thunder in the psalm. Too soft, too loud, too much? That’s thrive. Soft is my love, loud keeps me alive. They said sit still—nah, I sway to survive, I’m the beat, the...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/thunder-in-the-veil</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2e6cd06ff4252af8f860df</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Jun 2026 08:57:41 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[We're All Mad Here]]></title><description><![CDATA[Alice was a quiet thing, she moved by every “yes, my dear,” by smiles rehearsed, by laughter’s sting, her voice a wisp no one could hear. Her shadow clung to wall and floor, each step measured, soft, confined; she learned the rules, she learned the chore, yet never learned to know her mind. The clock above her tick-ticked time, its voice a rigid, ruling chain: “Don’t chase that White Rabbit’s wicked chime — his path is sharp, his world insane.” She saw the flash of white and ran, her heart —...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/we-re-all-mad-her</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2c42526ff4252af8f7814b</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2026 17:31:59 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[As Above...So Below...]]></title><description><![CDATA[This piece reflects the belief that the inner and outer self mirror one another. The tree, rooted deep in the earth and reaching toward the sky, reflects those inner and outer worlds — a symbol of grounding, growth, and interconnectedness.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/as-above-so-below</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2ad62044c7bef1d02a751c</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 16:01:18 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_56d02c39092347a08f5cb4347f46dba0~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_364,h_855,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Thunder in the Veil]]></title><description><![CDATA[This world’s not built for us, chaos in motion, Too loud for their rules, too wild for devotion. Told us to shrink, fold wings in their hands, But we rise, we riot, rewrite all their plans. Lips sing spells — birth life or deny it, Sacred breath, no dollar can buy it. We move like oceans, crash, then calm, Holy in the hustle, thunder in the psalm. Too soft, too loud, too much? That’s thrive. Soft is my love, loud keeps me alive. They said sit still—nah, I sway to survive, I’m the beat, the...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/thunder-in-the</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2ad4a96ff4252af8f6ed5e</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 15:33:56 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Between Extremes]]></title><description><![CDATA[I drew this tattoo design for a friend of mine who is bipolar. She asked me to draw what it feels like for her, and this was the end result.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/between-extremes</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a28f062bcf454bfefdfd391</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 05:12:53 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_1f648cfcb7b74c5cae390b9f6d35bb0b~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_792,h_750,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[What Thou Dost Negate]]></title><description><![CDATA[O brother mine, with dreams so vast, thou wish’st thy ambitions true; imploring lady luck to paint thy fancied visions into view. Thou speak'st of kingdoms yet unborn, of futures rich and fine, yet ever doth thy chosen road through fields of omens wind. Where cautious souls would halt and turn at banners dyed in red, thou marchest forth with eager smile where wiser minds have fled. The blind man knoweth not the hue of lantern or of flame— thus mercy often leads his steps, for sight was never...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/what-thou-dost-negate</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a25f0eb7af0f73356967d51</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 04:19:41 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Teddy]]></title><description><![CDATA[This is Teddy, a previous neighbor’s adorable beagle. His daughter asked if I could draw a picture of her pup, and I couldn’t say no. He was far too sweet a face not to put on paper.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/untitled-1</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a28150ec10b289958a46bd8</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Jun 2026 13:29:12 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_d55783ebcc774fd18452b748485e66b4~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Silver Tongue]]></title><description><![CDATA[O brother mine, with vows so fair, thou speakest with honeyed grace, yet hours pass, and shadows stretch, and still thou dost not show thy face. Thy pledges, like the morning mist, do vanish with the day, and I, with hope still clinging close, am cast once more away. "Anon!" thou speaketh, bold and sure, “Fear not, for I am near!" but naught arrives save silence, cold, and echoes none can hear. Dost thou not see the pain thou cause’st, each time thy word doth fail? each jest delayed, each...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/silver-tongue</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a28139ec10b289958a46b60</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Jun 2026 13:23:18 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Pride]]></title><description><![CDATA[The soil makes no demands upon the seed, it does not dictate what the seed must breed. It simply holds, and feeds, and lets it go, to find the light it needs to grow. In one quiet corner, a vibrant blend resides, where pink Foxgloves stand along the mountain sides. Their bells softly bob above Violets cradled deep, while blue Lupines sway above where hidden creatures sleep. Three distinct shades, yet woven in one vine, a proud, bisexual tapestry by design. Beside them, patient Hydrangeas have...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/pride</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2510c1723e0825bac8b010</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Jun 2026 04:59:36 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Horse in Motion]]></title><description><![CDATA[I scribbled this on some notebook paper as a test to show myself I can draw subjects in motion just as I can stationary subjects. It was quite a challenge, but it was much needed and really helped boost my confidence in my artistic abilities.]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/horse-in-motion</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a26670d7af0f73356975c72</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2026 06:58:05 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/0ce8b4_c6b028cb232047bab8c4bd345c23a2b9~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_818,h_831,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Rediscovered Poetry]]></title><description><![CDATA[The following poems involve self-harm and suicidal ideation. Some readers may find this triggering. Please read with caution. Pain Falling down a deep dark hole, pitch black soup in a rotting bowl. Fingers twitch in reddish mud, dead roses and whithered buds. Spiders crawling up your spine, webs that stick and pull and twine. Needles stuck in red-blue veins, nothing here can stop the pain. Eyes that hide the years and tears, hidden between the lines — my fears. I write both dark and sad in...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/rediscovered-poetry</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a26617d7206e69ccb39acce</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2026 06:51:00 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[No]]></title><description><![CDATA[When a mother says 'no', the sky convulses. Oceans climb their shores like beasts while rivers run red with blood. Temples split open. Ancestors weep ash. Entire cultures are swallowed whole by the sound of a woman drawing a line. When a mother says 'no' to proximity to her children, to private words with her children, to hands reaching for her children, the sky weeps while men clutch their chests as though boundaries were bullets. Hearts stop. Nations mourn. The moon abandons the tide with...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/___no</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a22842df64e529b409c3fa2</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2026 02:26:33 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Dandelions]]></title><description><![CDATA[(Intro) (Verse 1) To be a dandelion in the sun, a yellow bloom where the wild bees come, soft little wings in the summer breeze, dusting gold through trembling leaves. Roots in the earth but reaching high, a fleeting glow that still defies, the quiet field, the gentle tide— so full of life, but soft inside. (Pre-Chorus) I watched them fall, one by one, golden heads in brazen hands, undone— (Chorus) We were never yours to take, never yours to bruise or break, you can’t control the wild that...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/dandelions</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a23d5f1c10b289958a2a172</guid><pubDate>Sat, 06 Jun 2026 08:11:56 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Dandelions]]></title><description><![CDATA[[Trigger Warning] This poem contains metaphoric descriptions of sexual violence and may be distressing for some individuals. To be a dandelion, bright in the sun, a yellow bloom where bees arrive, one by one. Petals sway and hum with the breeze, tiny wings, gold-dusted from the trees. Roots firm in earth, yet reaching for the sky, a fleeting gold that catches every eye. The field hums softly, alive—a gentle tide; each blossom bright, yet fragile at its side. I watch my peers as some are...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/untitled</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a23d4f0c10b289958a2a0ae</guid><pubDate>Sat, 06 Jun 2026 08:09:13 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Bear]]></title><description><![CDATA[They asked me: "Would you choose the man or the bear?" I replied: I chose the kind smile, and it stole my happiness. I chose the gentle voice, and it convinced me I was nothing. I chose the patient hands, and they left me broken and bruised. I chose the comforting presence, and it stole my innocence. So they asked again: "Would you choose the man, or the bear?" I replied: I chose the bear. We wandered through forests in search of honey, and when he was hungry, it wasn't for my beauty. I chose...]]></description><link>https://maliceblum.wixsite.com/malice-blum/post/the-bear</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2275f7aaa8d363bc453c41</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 Jun 2026 18:27:29 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Malice Blūm</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>