My coworker just came in and started talking about her csection- considering my plan is to dossociate if im forced to have one and never speak of it again... now I just want to punch things. Fucking fucking fuck.
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@axeinpants
My coworker just came in and started talking about her csection- considering my plan is to dossociate if im forced to have one and never speak of it again... now I just want to punch things. Fucking fucking fuck.
Tag youre it
Your turn to feel like shit
Let me stab you
With the pieces of my heart again
So you'll never for get
You broke me.
Tag
Your turn to listen
And pretend you know what youre saying.
Tag tag
Youre it
Your turn to pummel me with
Problems I cant solve
Your turn to peak into the
Tornado of your soul
And throw bricks.
Youre it.
And I'm still here....
And the storms dont chase me away
And the hurt just echoes between us
And my feet are planted while you
Contemplate the door
And im trapped....
Because youre it.
Bought myself a spooky sweater today.
Where are my people?
How do the things that teach us
We are not alone
Alienate us so much.
How do the songs that drive us
Feel so strong
When the Rythm of our souls
Disagree.
How do we find
The truth
Through all the lies
That populate
The web
That winds us all together
But strings us all apart.
How does love win
With hatred to partition.
Where do my people lie
Where do my people live.
What stories do I subscribe to
To find
Peace with who I am.
I could trace my blood
But my color is the colonizers
Any lineage
I can trace
Is hid with shame
By my mothers mothers
Any line back to community
Is tainted
With the strain of so much hurt
I am defined
In some ways
By my palor
But many more in compassion
Where do my people lie
So entwined.
Embrace adjectives to find
Kindred spirits?
Equally confused
In the miasma
Of the mind.
Then geography embibed
What’s lost
What can I find
Push shame to the ends
Of its lives
Then the mighty driver
Debt
Contrives
Whose stories
Are the same as mine?
Whose thoughts the same
As mine?
Whose trauma
Does my life contrive
With or without my
,.. . consent
I breathe I am alive
I speak
Which words are mine
And which
Devined on history’s consent.
What am I?
But so lost
In the shame of all the crimes
And the blood of the spent
That still rings in
This heart of mine
Or resonates
In the deception
We all are prescribed.
My color colonized
My blood was colonized
My ancestors
Mostly died
Holding shame so close with pride.
And the web connects
The judgement and the price
Where is love
The hate is strong
And prejudice in highlight
But what can
I reconcile
With all the anguish spent.
How do I make myself a child
Innocent
But still
Remember the memories
Of all the blood that’s rent
To bring me to the world
I know
Connect me to the rest.
In culture I’m a ghost
Either haunting or repent…
Or do I stand alone
And wait for
More to come
To find me on my throne
Of self-love and regret.
For crimes
I never meant
For lives
I’d rather not absolve
But the the victims blood erect
In standing statue epitaph
Memorialize.
What am I?
But thrown
In the chaos of this life
And washing in the blood
Try
To make some semblance
Of a good life.
Where are my people
Who are my people
What do I make
Of a story
With so many makers
With so much pride.
Vladimir Nabokov, from a letter to his wife Véra (24 March 1937)
D(e)a(d) N(ame)
A week ago I was still carving it out
Into beaches and trees
Using fingernail
Or waterlogged twigs with no leaves
I am not going to go back
To every single place I breathed it
It would be an absurdity
It would be futility
The effort for erasure; substantially
More
Than you deserve
...
I still have a lot of
Unpacking to do:
Forgot my phone background’s
Still your computer keyboard
And that I’m supposed to dedicate books after you
The way I hold my posture, for you,
And that everything... is yours
But Dan...
I’ll say your name now
You take that back
From me
I don’t want it anymore
______________________________
Maureen Armstrong @haikkun
My wildness
Isn’t reconciled
I’ll chew
A ball point pen
Then
Toss my shit
At
Your processes of decorum,
Silly
Pseudo
Intellectual-Art
Aficionados
Are just people buying things
Off
Amazon,
I realized that too late,
When I should’ve
Beat the shit outta that man,
Who’s
Every man
Now and lived
Dead and gone. 
Courage sits with me
Anger in tow
Slip through the trees
Redemption is harsh on the skin
And harsher on the blood of the damned
The drive home makes my heart
Flutter angrily in my chest;
Erratic beating the drumming of my
Soul's sorrowful song.
-------------
I met heartbreak in the tangled
Vines of my childhood;
Your lap held me higher than
Your roaming, hungry hands ever did.
My innocence gone before
Middle school.
------------------
I wish for the soft flakes of winter
Like your body hungers for spring.
We are different;
Polar opposites sitting beside each other
On the living room floor.
--------------------
I stole my heart back from
The tangled vines it was held in.
I will not be innocent,
And I will scream my sorrow
Until my lungs are empty of you.
I defy the darkness
The sedimentaryy nature of dust
I defy the cosmos
And witness
How its dark and light
Play in immensity
Born of a spiral reverberation
A golem of the grit
Thats thus escaped the
The hot and hungry flames of stars
I witness in defiance
The call of chaos
For Naught of this will last
No light does shine for ever
These stars too shall pass
And I to
Shall end and weather.
What consequence
Can dust deliver.
No, the privilege
I defy the universe, to bear,
Is just the visage
As it courses unaware.
And hungry these eyes
Evolved to see
The stars play out
Their histories.
My favorite flower
Withered
Without the room to grow.
Day by day
I watched it die
In glances out the window.
Those sneaky weeks
And months find ends
Before the very eye
And I havent got to
Flowered bed
To really spend the time.
Tame
The shameful weeds
And mend
The thing that dies.
My favorite flower
Once
The center of my mind
How my heart hurts
To see it
Wither
and to die.
Tempt me not
The nightmares play
Taunting games of hide and seek.
In dreams
Bare they teeth
And poison sneak to day.
Forget me not
They siren sing
As they take you
On their way.
Taunting
Hackled little things
Like cats
With favored prey.
Do they like
To live or die
Or do they think at all.
The nightmare things
That sneak
And eat
And slither speak
In dream.
The Web
We are all but dancing flies Trapped upon the web Singing see It comes to life The traitorous gossamer web He munches on us Time to time We puppets in his debt I wish to ask him Time to time Of how his victims bled Or were they shrivelled Shrunk and dried Before he fell upon Their head From his fangs Come lethal lies That ring and rise And spread But here we are Just dancing flies All strung upon His threads He orchestrates The glut designs Our journey onto Death.
Monters
Woe to all You whove felt That biting tongue of life Lick you up and down Paralyzed And tasted And evilly spit out By monsters Creeping crawling Come to live Inside your head And terror Paralyzed And laid you down As dead Taken Drenched and dried And made alive with dread Woe to all Who broken Believed the lie Sung them Once to bed
Jim
It hurts the most You did not listen And then on top You refused to see And then theres more You do not feel The earthquakes Here inside of me. You seem not deaf Cannot be blind But dumb i cannot say. I'll sit here yet A while longer And hope to figure Where you lay.
Hurt Fuck it hurts Every word As it exits A composition Exhibition Main attraction Flatlines As it finds the air And rings Resonates inside me Projection Of the insides of me Dead waves reaching And careless batted away. In some circles I am queen. But I keep Circling back to see My shadow Cold behind me. Reaching For warmth in hearts That do not mind me. Robbing ephagies Replaced with IM FINE me I cannot be. Not a burden But I deserve To be held kindly To have a fraction Of what I give Come back in To find me...