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Ellen what the fuck happened in 1998
ellen degeneres came out in 1997
yeah but ellen what happened in 2014
ellen page came out in 2014
^truth

JVL
we're not kids anymore.
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

#extradirty
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$LAYYYTER
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Love Begins
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almost home
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@slipping-blog
via
Ellen what the fuck happened in 1998
ellen degeneres came out in 1997
yeah but ellen what happened in 2014
ellen page came out in 2014
^truth
Have fun then.
Change
A man
dressed in folds made of
hunched shoulders and tattered t-shirt
approaches us,
so burnt and beaten by the sun
into a pulp of raw flesh
stained blood orange
in the special marinade
of car glares and sweat
that he wore like a clay mask
meant to suck the stresses out of the pores
on his face
but instead,
could never quite be
washed away.
are you different or just uninterested?
draft
I curl my toes
Hoping they’d disappear
Into the soles of my feet
and I would have a legitimate excuse for not being able to stand
against this turbulance
rumbles in the bellies of watermelon
Knocking around the back of a pickup truck
Headed toward an expanse-of-nothing desert
Where no melon grows
And he who knows what is best for himself
Would not lay down in this sand
Burning the follicles off my back
I wish it were you instead
Flipping rare steaks on the grill
Installed at the base of my belly
The raw would sooth my upset stomach
before rubbing salt in my eyes
I would not even wince from the pain
My fibulae are fighting their natural tendencies
To shatter under the weight of our bodies
And my hips
held heavy in my hesitance
As are my toes
To step into this puddle of muddy water
Lest it be lukewarm
And I slip in it anyway`
Whisper my hesitance away
With an answer spoken
In the tongue of friends
So I can understand
I already do
And I would listen intently
And follow intently the sound of your pulsing heart
As easily as the folds of flurried flesh did
Under your sea of sheets
I wonder
If I would be disappointed
By your idea of a mud bath
If the cracks caked on my cheekbones
Would shed into a new skin glean
Or settle silently
as dust does over time
Into wrinkled rivers
Etched around a frown
I already know
How hard I would scrape and scrub
At the scars
Ice-picked and crumpled into themselves
Defeated and defined
Someday the scars would fade
Like the pink of watermelon rinds
Consumed pale in violent thirst
Among this blistering heat
When we can’t join hands
For fear of not being able to stroke
And kiss all the lovely handshakes
Written into the history books of our future
The pigment would fade but I would not forget
the symphony before our final note
and the prelude before that
foreplay, child’s play
When do we become too old
To play this game of hide and seek
Collect and go?
We choose to walk this barren walk
Palms bare and sweaty
But open to receive
On the off chance it rains
And the wind sweeps us off our feet
At least the truck driver
Will notice the tumbleweed
A little roughed up on the edges
And torn like some of the pages in my book
But whole nonetheless
Momentarily caught on a diamond in the rough
Not yet bloodied by human hands
And he will wish upon that wishing weed
already resuming its nimbic journey
from its resting spot
along the banks of yet another uncharted watering hole
Before wondering where it’s headed
And where it will end up
In the end we will have our you and me
It’s written in the books
mushroom coral lips
So it begins...
I want to vomit my insides out
kill my buzz
punching
pounding
I can't expect anymore
broken
gripping
knots in my back
I'm sorry
I lost the free
cell game
Foresight
I think it's rather peculiar
that emotional maturity means
knowing all the facets of hurt
to feel their weight in your left palm
and note the difference
between your right
and ask is it worth it?
Can I stay?
I'm not running away
I'm walking
revisiting my once hesitant steps
sunken against the cement road leading away from you
because right now my palms are empty
but I already know
that they could soon both be heavy
overflowing to the point that
one choice could do no less damage than its alternative
and that is when you learn that love is another addiction
ornamented in bliss
but covered in thorns
It means admitting your sweet tooth
while denying the birthday cake
for the sake of your paleolithic diet
But emotional maturity is also honesty
it's respect for the feelings stirring the blood
pumping out of your heart
into the corners of your mind
and finishing the sentences that perpetuate into loudspeaker thoughts
It's knowing when to chase your connections
and when to let go
always remembering to honor yourself
with the conviction of your choice
regardless of which palm carries the bigger burden
regardless of which prong of the fork you decide to travel
I am not saying that I am emotionally mature
but I'm no longer the girl that I used to be
blindly grasping for comfort in relief
even if it means disregarding the acid pangs
calcifying my ribcage
I still have a hard time at forks in the road
but I know I have gotten better
at listening to the whispers of the wind
to determine the orientation of my travels
No matter where I end up
I will not be lost