Why do I still have a writing tumblr?
My mother's body
In another life, my mother’s body wouldn’t have betrayed her All the pain from her every days, would only be some days, or perhaps no days She wouldn’t find herself listening the screams of her swollen feet And I would not find her hurriedly hushing it away She would not buckle under burden She would find no need to lean on copper tinged canes That break the surface of the brown...
In the spring people love the trees for their bountiful blooms bursting forth brazenly with new life. In the summer those same people love the trees for the familiar leaves brilliantly green against the blue sky. In the fall the foliage puts on a final show. Rainbow colored leaves dance on the breeze, yellow, red, orange, brown, and even pink but no one loves the trees in the winter. No one...
American Censorship Day
thepianofarm: Today HR 3261 is on the floor and it could bring about the censorship of the internet. Stories of it here and here. Please visit and voice up against, here
Sometimes I wonder are there other people that have to tell their bodies to do the things that most bodies do automatically. Sometimes I have to tell my lungs to breathe or I have to tell my heart to beat or I won’t be able to go on living anymore. Sometimes I have to ask my mouth nicely to make sounds and hope they resemble words or there might not possibly be a way to get my point...
So now even sleeping is an exhibition And I am forced to rely on dreamers’ retention But dreams hold no memory of me And I fear that I will be lost at sea
All the beautiful girls are hanging on the dull words of pretty boys, while I’m cutting my teeth on the sharp words I’ve never said.