This is for the lions living in the wiry broke
down frames of my friends bodies.
Desire builds me a rotten church to lay down in.
I too am sick of the body.
I too am sick of being a body,
am sick of being sick about my body,
— Meghan Dunn, from “Response, Years Later, to Two Male Poets I Overheard Discussing How Sick They Were of Women’s Poems about the Body,” published in MUSE/A
“I won’t glorify or romanticize heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.”
— Warsan Shire (via quotemadness)
believe people when they show you their true colors. if they treat you like trash, it’s because they think you deserve that or because they know you’ll put up with it. you don’t and you don’t have to. stop making excuses for them. stop excusing their shitty behavior. they aren’t worth hours of mental gymnastics. a good person would treat you decently. it really is that simple. i promise.
my body sheds blood out of creation. out of natural cycle. ancient sacred process. it is forthright and clean.
yours sheds out of violence. hurt. pain.
mine can, too.
but it doesn’t have to. my bleeding can be beautiful. it is the water of the earth. it ties me to my mother, my aunts, my sisters. we hold the foundation of humankind in that blood.
and if I was given the choice between this dichotomy again, I would choose my blood a thousand times, again and again, because mine means something
something more than yours ever could
when i’m gone, make me again
from my hair. carry me with you
a small book in your pocket.
— sam sax, from “bury,” bury it
fuckyeahsexanddrugs