She creates watercolor out of herself Her voice sounds sirens Woman in red her lips speak the spell of peaches impeaching Her body bleeds to remind her she can choose to give life and she can choose to take it away Hundreds of years go by and she is still sitting in the water, blood on her
The past few months I have been learning from Nothing, herself Staring at the void while she begs, Stay in me Nothing means staring out the window and crying Nothing means cooking and letting the energy of my body move through food Nothing means reading for pleasure, sometimes Nothing means feeling anxious to work and creating more space
Last week I turned 27. I decided I could have everything I wanted this year. I chose myself. I chose my pleasure, even when it meant risking everything else. I am in a love that feels so deep and complete that it often feels too magical and too unbelievable to express through words. I have a business that somehow
She sits Back against the wall Her face fucked all afternoon She knows who to submit to She submits to grief She submits to winter She submits to him But not to the rest of the world. Banned from platforms Reported for speaking truth Stalked by nobodies She marinates in grief, in shadow
“I’m sad,” I said “Winter is sad,” my mom said. “But it isn’t that time yet.” “I’m sad,” I said My sister did not reply My father said, “I know, I just try to think of happier things, and stay happy.. you know?” I don’t know if I know I know that like clockwork, Thanksgiving approaches and my
My heart felt expanded, opening Will you kiss me? he asked gently I moved my mouth down between his legs and I kissed softly, leisurely. And then I sat up. I ran my hands over his thighs, his belly, his cock. As slowly as I wanted. Noticing the silkiness of his skin, various moles, the shape of his body. Appreciating.
“I’m moody,” I whined. “I don’t want to be touched. I feel annoyed at everything.” “You haven’t been well-fucked in like a week,” he said. He had been sick. I had been stressing about work. He said, “Yeah. I want to tie you up and fuck you.” My body lit up, not even by choice. Yes, she
They will tell you you are unclean, that your blood should not be talked about. They will tell you to hide your body. That your body is inherently flawed, that all its lines and bumps and hairs need to be fixed. They will tell you to be quieter. That you are just looking for attention, that you don’t know enough.
I really want women to understand that our anger toward the patriarchy/our society is valid. And that it is not the same as our anger toward men. It is so valid to be hurt that we have grown up in a society that has told us we are too much or not enough, that has shut our bodies and our power
“Men respond really well to condescension,” she said, laughing. I looked at her, my body frozen. She was a sex educator. Someone who teaches classes on relating to one another allll the time. I know where this belief comes from. How it’s rooted in a lifetime of feeling lesser than, of not knowing any other way to feel powerful.