Honey Badger Duet@1 month ago
#sally mao #sally wen mao #guernica #poem #poetry #honey badgers #beautiful
This morning I woke up at 4am and rummaged pointlessly around my apartment. I found a bunch of my old makeup in a box, and pulled out a bunch of my old clothes from the depths of another box. I played dress-up and briefly relived my three-month goth phase. It was not a sentimental moment, nor was it a moment worth making note of on the Internet. No photos sry.@2 months ago with 1 note
@2 months ago with 397 notes
acting out of love isn’t about being nice. sometimes it is asking people to change because they are hurtful or insensitive, racist or oppressive. it is pushing people to grow and rethink their behavior.
love is many things but when its limited to being nice, manipulation can easily be labeled love.
fabian romero- indigenous immigrant queer boi writer
In the rigmarole of lucky living, you tire
of the daily lessons: Sewing, Yoga, Captivity.
Push the lesson inside the microwave.
Watch it plump and pop and grow larval
with losses. Watch it shrink like shrikes
when they dodge out of this palatial
doom. On the sky’s torn hemline, this horizon,
make a wish on Buddha’s foot. How to halve,
but not to have—how to spare someone
of suffering, how to throw away the spare
key saved for a lover that you don’t
have, save yourself from the burning turret
with the wind of your own smitten hip.
Do you remember how girlhood was—a bore
born inside you, powerless? How you made
yourself winner by capturing grasshoppers
and skewering them? You washed a family
of newts in the dry husked summer, wetted
them with cotton swabs before the vivisection.
That’s playing God: to spare or not to spare.
In the end you chose mercy, and dropped
each live body into the slime-dark moat.
Today is a study in being a loser. The boyfriend
you carved out of lard you left in the refrigerator
overnight between the milk and chicken breasts.
Butcher a bed, sleep in its wet suet for a night.
Joke with a strumpet, save the watermelon
rinds for the maids to fry in their hot saucepans.
Open your blouse and find the ladybugs
sleeping in your navel. Open your novel
to the chapter where the floe cracks and kills
the cygnet. Study hard, refute your slayer.