if i quit smoking weed eight weeks ago,
why do i still feel like my mind got trapped
in a hot air balloon and my body fell out of the basket?
why do i feel like earthquakes,
why do i feel like my stomach can’t hold my own breath,
i’ve been falling out of bed screaming
There are those that are okay. Kezia reminded me once that marijuana literally keeps you depressed. I forgot that, I remember it now, on the weed-smoking holiday, on a week America is dying, and I day I didn’t even smoke with anyone else, and I didn’t even visit my dead friend’s tree.
My dad went fishing, after he finished his case, the largest maritime case in US history. He was sending pictures around to the family on group text, but my phone is flip and three years old, and doesn’t really jive with group text messages. So buzz all morning and afternoon, memory too full, memory too full, somehow though I knew it was pictures of fish. Pictures of fish on a text to bring a family closer when they can’t talk. When if they were together they wouldn’t talk anyway, they would stay on their iphones, on the couch.
I haven’t changed since I was thirteen, and I turn twenty-five in two weeks. I’m older, political, wiser, as sad, as happy, but high, and wasting. Twenty-five quarter century yes yes. Twenty five quarter century yes yes.
These days, after I’ve left my apartment in the Bywater and moved back uptown with Dad, I dance often naked in front of the mirror. I wear my glass beads I caught in winter and look at myself in the mirror. I stand naked in the mirror and admire myself, I spend more time sexualizing myself than I do sex with other people. Outwards with spring, David! Outwards with spring!
I want to be naked always. I see problems in humans separating themselves from other animals. Different sure smarter maybe but better, sustaining? no! Be real smell honest. I want to cry more! I want to work more! Better love, better love.
There are hurts all around. There is trauma continuing. There is real bad things. There is real bad things. But I am allowed to love. I am allowed to love. I am allowed to love.
Ended people’s lives
For being queer
End people’s lives
For being queer
More than suck
But words fail
And the dead of the dead
Demand my help
As someone who is hapa, both white and non-white, and white-passing but very much not white-passing (“at second glance”), I cannot comprehend why suddenly PoC criticisms of this white woman brings about the “STFU!” from other white women.
The thing is, congrats on making it…
Writing is hard for all of us, straight white men included. Coal mining is harder. You think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig…So write. Not like a girl. Not like a boy. Write like a motherfucker.
— Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things (via laurenzuni)
take extra care today. stay safe. escape when you need to.
best of luck with phobic attitudes, misgendering, trans*misogyny, misogyny, folks not using yr right name, fat shaming, body shaming, and all that hellish matter.
please give yrself every kindness.
“In conclusion, The People’s Republic of China demands that America stop using their cry of human rights violations against other sovereign nations in order to declare war on them to steal their resources when America flagrantly violates the human rights of Afro-descendants and other minorities within its own country.”
this article just drops stat. after stat. on the racial inequalities in the U.S. good read.
When China calls out your shit about human rights. And has the numbers to back it up. Then you know you’ve fucked up.