A little announcement

So……..I am working on a poetry collection. Which means that I have to learn how to art in a way that feels authentic to me as well as accumulate enough material to compile a collection. So I might be a little MIA for a bit again. BUT, I do have a sample of what will be in it so, without further adont

The Love of being reduced to body parts

I would cut out my vagine if I could

Pay to have is shoved up your body

Hopefully it doesn’t inject any of my body dysmorphia into you

Hopefully the trauma it’s survived

Doesn’t give you a complex as well.

Jokes, sure.

But that doesn’t mean much when

I can pull the threats you placed in front of me

From that most coveted space

If I could, I would rip my throat from my body

So that you may have unbridled use of my voice.

It’s not like I’m using it anyway,

Since fear of saying any wrong thing

Has me in a state of paralysis

Causing cobwebs to form around it.

Sure, I should speak up more

Or learn to sing again

But, truly, who wants to hear that

Without provocation?

Had there been a way

To crack my skull

And gift you with my brain,

It would be yours.

Beware of the 3AM thoughts

The Perish and Prosper tug of war

Pay no mind to the voices

Apart from the shouting

Insisting that your life will amount to nothing

The mind is prime real estate

The breast, the ass

The too thick arms, legs, neck and face

The rotting flesh that I call armour

With affection.

Sure, it makes me look fat

Menacing,

Invites ridicule

Let’s everyone know that I am a subpar human unworthy of life or decency or respect or even the tiniest bit of affection-

But it gives great hugs

I will give you most of me

All that I ask, the only thing I want in this transaction called living

I want to keep my soul

The thing that’s a sucker for the minor key

That is fascinated by the darkness in all things

That part that worships the moon

That is filled with macabre whimsy and terrifying wonder

That horrifying, bloodsoaked center

Leave that for me

To the families of the depressed and the lost

You don’t know.

Our thoughts are a constant barrage of every negative thing that we have ever had the displeasure of hearing about ourselves, true or otherwise. We are constantly plagued by the notion that orur continued existence is an abomination onto the Earth. And, no matter how many positive thoughts we are able to interject, our own positive messages and reminders will be blighted out by the deafening chorus.

You don’t know.

Our lives are a constant tug of war between many knowingly terrible habits, in an attempt to secure some momentary happiness and tether it to a more permanent status. What you see as damning and destructive behavior is more than likely an attempt to find peace, security, and calm in a mind that refuses rest and demands disfunction.

You. Don’t. Know.

What you see as someone who was, one day, joyous and, the next, gone, of their own demise, is some who has fought for so long and so hard, that they are simply tired, down to the marrow. Someone who was always one mishap from crumbling and disappearing, like a cookie left in milk. What you see as an act of weakness is simply the end of a battle that you never had the misfortune of being a part of, only hearing whispers of it before that, too, flutters away in the wind. It is not a matter of nurture, of someone not having the willpower to push through their own negative self image to simply “be better”. It is a matter of nature, of the odds being stacked so unevenly against them that even the positively that they receive is twisted and gnarled to the point that it is unusable the next time it is needed.

It is my prayer that you never have to fight the battles of the depressed, that you never have to relive the lives of the lost. It is my sincerest wish that you can never empathize with the experience described in this letter, only sympathize. May you never suffer like us.

You don’t know. And may you never.

Tsutsa 6024 update

Dear mama Buumi,
I have the most terrible news and I feel you should hear it from me first. I have had my measurements taken and it would appear that I have gained a significant amount. It is not so much that I would need a new wardrobe, but I am told that it is noticeable. Even father thinks so.
Speaking of, he seems to be in high spirits, keeping himself busy these days. He and Viscount Suill are always seen together, heads tented, as if they are plotting some bank heist. There is talk that the Viscount is keeping him out of some sort of trouble, but when I inquire about it, I am told to stay in a child’s place, or that I should take the curious energy that I have and focus on my studies.
You will be happy to know that I have not fallen behind in my studies! While I am still several steps behind some of the others in terms of experience, I am still managing to keep pace, propelled forward by your ever present voice, “strive for better”. And I am trying.
I cannot wait to see you at the Ward exhibition.
Love
Your dearest, Isio Temple

Affection tare

When did you decide
You were undeserving of affection?
Was it when every boy who caught your eye
Was repulsed by you?
Or was it when you were pulled apart
Sinew, fiber, bone
For the betterment of the world
Or, as you lay screaming
Pleading
As you watched Hope flutter out of the room
As Despair descended

Scar tissue

Biggest fear: proving people right about big girls
So you push
Past the tears
Past the pain
The pain
Seizes your joints
Stops your movement
But you push past
Your mind; your fear, your will
Fight against
Your body; the thing that makes you human
Your eternal struggle, turned to flesh
But when pain
Seizes your body and empties your mind
In your effort to build and inability to heal
You have pushed yourself to be
The being you feared cbecoming
So how will you fix this?

Me kuke so

I cannot be the person younger me needed
That requires bloodshed
For a person long gone
From a person no longer available
So I will be the adult children need now

bazara ta musamman

The flowers miss your voice
Your attempt to shake the off
The rust and weariness from
Will you sing for them?

Before the shadows fall?

Fada

You will never be seen
As a precious little thing
The world is ill equipt
For your grace

Glory tear

Whenever I need a good cry, I go to my happy place. There, I have the perfect job, the perfect partner, the perfect place. I imagine being comforted. Being heard. Understood. Held. Validated. Valued.
The version of me will never happen. She’s too different. Too pale. Too pretty. Too coveted.
I am able to cry because, seeing her, I realize that I will never have those things, and I can mourn them in earnest.

Don’t get cut by the line

“Feminine expression
The high wire act.”

Ma Khady sighed
As her revelation rose to your ears
As they wrapped your beads
Snuggly around your waist
“Not dissimilar to holding these beads in their rightful place.”

A low hum
Seemed to eminate from the walls
As if your foremothers were with you in the moment
But, if Ma Khady was aware, they said nothing
“If you give too much
You risk leaving room for a latch
They will strip you of your beads

All the while insisting that it’s what you wanted.”

She finished

Hiding the end in other beads
“On the other hand

A constant show of strength

Makes us a threat.”

You hair is piled high on top of your head,

The coral beads

used as both decoration and restraint
“Too much aggression,

However justified,

Will only give them a reason
To strike you down.”

With this,

Ma Khady
Brandishing a newly polished dagger
Your dagger,

Using the hilt to lift your chin
“Warrior and princess
You must inhabit both in equal measure.”

***