You Can Pry Starting Sentences With 'and' Or 'but' Out Of My Cold, Dead Hands

I think I was just born with something dark and ugly inside of me. Always waiting to be found out.

planetarium - adrienne rich/@twoheadedfawnn/ugly, bitter, and true - suzanne rivecca/a burning hill - mitski/a hora da estrela- clarice lispector/ @100493503004422/sharp objects - gillian flynn

a poem from gazan writer nadine murtaja featured in an edition of WAWOG’s “new york war crimes” in march. she dreams of becoming a dentist, though her schooling was interrupted by the current aggression and genocide.

please donate and share nadine’s campaign to evacuate herself and her family.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help my family and I evacuate Gaza, organized by Nadine Murtaja

I'm Nadine Murtaja, a 20-year-old writer from Gaza, and I'm reaching out to you with… Nadine Murtaja needs your support for Help my family a

I’m gnashing my teeth like a child of Cain

If this is a prison I’m willing to bite my own chain

who’s up thinking about after the threesome they both take you home by sue hyon bae i’m thinking about after the threesome they both take you home by sue hyon bae

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

Scattered poertry from my scattered brain (is this anything? idk)

{Quotes marguaxpoetry on Instagram / Sarah Kay}

i’m printing this out and i’m putting it on the mirror so i can confront myself with it

Housekeepers and Janitors Need Praise As Unsung but Very Much Important

#1,484

I picked up

one of those perfect published

poetry anthologies

flipping through its pages

fumbling for this authors sense of style

tripping headfirst into the phrase

“if writing would kill you, would you still write?”

my joints crack on impact

god there are weeks

when i can’t even dream

of pen and paper’s sordid affairs

but there are moments upon moments

where it’s the only impulse

I have left

i may never achieve

that coveted haven

on a barnes and nobles

new releases shelf

but god damn

i

will

write

until

i

die

or

i

cease

to

be

complete