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Found 3 results

  1. dear men

    dear men: why? i try to assume the best of people but god, you sure make it hard listen i'm sure you meant the best when you asked about my cosplay, but then i told you and you didn't leave you didn't leave you didn't leave maybe you thought that was fine but you're over a foot taller than me and please, i just want to get up that escalator look. imagine me, sitting there, waiting for my friend (we were walking together but i got tired of waiting; here's why) you call me 'pretty sexy', sitting there in full cosplay. are you from lord of the rings? did you see my hands tighten around the umbrella? could you hear my heart stutter? 'sorry, pretty,' you say, like that makes it better (spoiler: it doesn't. i know it's in your head.) i smile because i don't know what else to do. please leave. 'meet us at the restaurant,' says my mother, 'we thought the meet up would take longer' i knew it wouldn't. i tell her that. i walk four blocks and i'm nervous as hell little me in the city, dressed in a goddamn blonde wig and short shorts and crop top 'hey, baby,' says the man on the bench. i will beat you with this umbrella dear men: i am not your piece of meat. let's go back a few weeks. picture me, laughing, full-face of makeup: 'oh, do me next,' i laugh. 'how old do you think i am?' '24.' '17.' he holds his hands out for handcuffs. my laughter turns false. i don't want your wink and smile over the glass countertop. i just want my sandwich. dear men: i am not a slice of ham at the deli. i am not a cold drink for you to sip. i am not a statue or a piece of art. i am five feet tall with zero muscle and i will lay you flat with this umbrella. i'm seventeen years old. don't make me. technically i'm bisexual. there's a reason i focus mostly on girls. want to guess the reason? in summary: men. why? AN: why are men like this why why why this poem sucks but i don't even care i just want to get it out there that i am pissed off and done
  2. noah

    hey, he says, leans over my shoulder hey. he's soft against my cheek but his chin is boney on my arm it's a weird sort of closeness where close is glue? or maybe a lifeline. we used to fight. like, you are so damn annoying but without the cursing because we were young like shut up you're the worst like don't speak to me at night if you don't want to be yelled at but hey, we're older now and it's different? or maybe it's not, like we were always close but now i finally see it when your sibling is the worst, am i right? ten things only a sibling will know: 1. beating each other up over the last cookie that's just wrong? it's fighting but it's gentler it's i don't want to give you the front seat but i will it's bake me a cake for my birthday or good morning here's a hug or here are my secrets that you already know did you know when i came out he hugged me? he didn't say a word. just, leaned over and hugged me. i like to touch his face ruffle his hair poke fun at his gangly limbs and sharp, sharp bones and high-pitched, low-pitched voice. i'm gonna get a tumblr holy fuck noah i'm filtering out tags for you it's weird to think we're getting older when just a heartbeat ago he was playing with trains on our white-carpet floor thud, thud of the soccer ball against the front door, and at least that hasn't changed but now to look at him i have to look up and now when i hear his voice i think it's our father's and he's fifteen on tuesday and it's such a slow-paced, rapid change whiplash through the years because when did you grow up? (((AN: do you think i should give this to him for his birthday? like i already made him a cake but i don't have an actual present because he's impossible to shop for but the lil bro is gonna be FIFTEEN and i feel like i should do something other than a three-layer cake.)))
  3. click through rgb-illuminated surf's up and tenebrous excavation/casket deities hop cortical tripwire misplaced funeral flyers, andy andy andy andy brainspace offers memorial page made of cut short crossed genetic wires begetting lung cancer end and focal pins + needles sit by eye corner, read halfhearted site-down-404-not-found art imitating life in death
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