Those We Call Monsters Are Not So To God

I am a larva They/Them, 21

[dawnbleedsafresh]

Sobriety is a full body feeling and it’s cruel that it’s our default

[thosewecallmonsters]

Walking Through My Great Grandmother’s Attic After She Died

I’ve seen her before

slumped over in the corner

Darkness for clothes, her naked body

Lay pale and covered in dust

Fairy dandruff

the veil of time itself

Has clothed her

[thosewecallmonsters]

Creation is fleeting, paper is forever

Give me one sentence: anything.

A word to look at and think I can do this

What? This doesn’t matter

Anything- I want the flicker of hope

To dance for me before wax burns my hand

I stand- beside the fire. Above, it burns.

Here I am, safe. I do know the lick of the flame

And I have lit it, and doused it, and held my hand above it

skin peeling like an orange. The fruit is underneath the rind

I need one sentence to believe in myself

And another, until I die. Who am I?

Fleeting into space. We have never touched anything

But the wax still hurts until it doesn't

And my hand grows cold, now with a second skin

I do not feel better or bigger

[iphisesque]

i love blowfly girl i have a parasocial relationship with her

[theracs25]

other girls have babies but i give birth to decay and filth, i'd keep thinking to myself. or i'd say i'm probably ruining my womb and i don't care, i want to be ruined.

[everythingstarstuff]

[lovewillbreakyourheartforever]

I know that when I die somebody’s going to sell my flesh on the black market, one of my awful distant relatives. That’s why I smoke and drink, so I taste bitter and no one gets any pleasure out of my death.

Agustina Bazterrica, Tender is the Flesh (trans. Sarah Moses)

[thatsbelievable]

[selkielore]

you are the apple

[satanasaeternus]

Lithops - Nicola Samori

[oolb]

Visit Original Link

oh, an incurable humanist, you are. (forgive me, forgive me, forgive me-ology.)

[forestgreenlesbian]

Woodworking at the End of the World, Ocean Vuong

[thosewecallmonsters]

Analysis

By Nancy Lee

In this story the cockroach is the man,

the curtain my girlhood, the creamed

corn spilled by the mother wasted

familial love, the father's zealotry

a metaphor for emotional blindness.

In this story the radioactive dinosaur

is the man, the city of Tokyo my body,

and the metro tunnel, well, you know.

Fire is fire. Explosions are explosions.

The snow-capped summit of Mount Fuji

signifies faith's chilly endurance.

A facet of the man is represented by

each of the three Magi in this story.

Do not accept his gifts. It's an honest

mistake to assume I'm the Baby

Jesus, but let's face it, I'm the slut,

Mary, whom no one believes

is a virgin, especially not the man.

Gothic romance man owns a mansion

with a special tap for instant boiling

water and acres of heated tile floor.

I'm the maid who scrubs the floor

and sometimes has her hand held

under the tap. The crazy woman

in the attic is me. The horse that won't

be broken is me. The intergenerational

family curse is me. The pig the man

whips for being pig-like is me.

In this story the man is the man

and I am me. His penis is his penis

and my mouth, my mouth. The bed

is my childhood bed, the guest room

bed, the bed in my college dorm

and the futon in my first apartment.

The parents watching TV are my parents,

and the thin scar on my thumb,

the thumb I am showing you now,

is where he sliced me with a razor

to prove he could open me at will.

[dawnbleedsafresh]

The urge to have green skin…. To have your entire body be covered in an earthy green skin….

[dawnbleedsafresh]

You.... I feel our souls were taken from the same place. A crystal in a cave with the sign... the sign written before god was born that says “do not harvest”

[dawnbleedsafresh]

My specific DNI list: people who look at the “18 yr old” section of porn, debate over whether “traumacore” is ethical, want to know peoples mental illnesses upon first meeting them, think only people with proven mental illnesses and trauma with a note from their therapist can write dead dove do not eat shit, will say ‘I’m sure they’ve just had a hard life’ about abusers, think your parents divorce makes you immune to being a bad person, a little too into Harry Potter, will do things you asked them not to as a joke, think men have an innate urge to hurt people, talk about people having ‘good’ or ‘bad’ music taste, think intelligence means succeeding academically and nothing else, will only be nice to people they’re attracted to, assume I cannot do things, HATE poetry, cishets with “gaydar”, think women need to value themselves more, do not like ginger ale that tastes more like ginger than ale, does not think muppets are cool even a little, tell me I look better in outfits I am not comfortable in, prescribe morality to things it does not need, hates pink

[thingsfromthedirt]