the pretty people are still alive: the girls in white blouses, the boys being kissed from train-windows. I was alive in aftershock: I had sex with ghosts and wrote love letters to the gods, to the dust motes in my hair. I was waiting for a boy with too pale skin and black eyes… Continue reading poem: the other black parade
poem: softer, lighter, postmodern uwu
she is a protagonist: running up the apartment steps, a scarf beautiful and warm on her face, her hair dripping from the rain. she likes old cafes, old music and dead men; she keeps cats, reads books, drinks tea; But, lucky for the academy, this is a satire directed by a foreigner: she is shopping… Continue reading poem: softer, lighter, postmodern uwu
poem: self-love is a horrible culture
the worst thing in the world is "self-acceptance." why do we keep living if the dull people we are today are the only future, the only destiny? I want to one day be bold and vibrant; I want (more) self-confidence and discussions of Kant after sex. I want to weigh 125 pounds. Why the hell… Continue reading poem: self-love is a horrible culture
poem: vlog #19 winter night self-care routine
people who are in love are desperate and boring. people who are not in love are just boring. the artists and the addicts are self-justifying, living in cities in the sky, living in New York with neon palm-trees. But I am too busy being an Aesthetic, with long black hair pulled nicely into a blood-knot,… Continue reading poem: vlog #19 winter night self-care routine
poem: “exotic” is rude and discriminatory
you are only what you are not. you cannot get rid of the "other" because the "other" is the wide spectrum of things too big and grand for your narrow human soul.
poem: untitled relationship
remember when we were perfect people? you took my hand and pulled out all my veins; you made the blood look pretty on the ground. remember when I saved you anyway? you kissed me many times, when I was sitting at the gray table, when my feet were knocking heads with the lonely asian boys.… Continue reading poem: untitled relationship
poem: i am not like the others who are not like me
girls in long coats came for coffee but dropped dead after remembering that coffee comes in plastic cups and with plastic breasts, plastic mouths, and plastic sex lives; they could not handle the combination. they were, however, very unique people: they breathed air everyday, read books sometimes and read instagram all the time, and wanted… Continue reading poem: i am not like the others who are not like me
poem: too long for her twitter bio
art inspires art; like fire makes fire and sex makes humans making love making sex, dipping their hands in red and painting cities. I met you when I was a conquerer, I met you and you tore me apart. I was making grand endless forests and populating them with leopards and crying when I was… Continue reading poem: too long for her twitter bio
poem: we were the world, at war
hello to the dead years hello to the girls in yellow hats, kissing the library windows and pretending they are kissing husbands. hello to the young dead men in trenches, pulsing with no heat, maggots curling around skullcaps and helmets and dead dreams. hello to the girls standing at the train platform, waiting for him… Continue reading poem: we were the world, at war
poem: Let Them Eat Cake
I am Elizabeth the first, sitting in dirty bathwater with rotting teeth, rubbing my hands between my legs because there are no men: I am tired of being Virgin Queen. I am Bloody Mary, I am wailing in the antechamber, the rosary beads dancing like knocked-off heads after the ax cuts—one, two, three. Despite what… Continue reading poem: Let Them Eat Cake
the last pavilion 