Justin Chin > Quotes

“I hate to admit it, but sometimes I think he's right. When you kiss someone, it's the first taste of his mouth that will make or break your heart.”
― Justin Chin, Burden of Ashes

“We grow up and figure out the truth,
we realize how hard it is
to maintain and take care
of life, even the ones
that deceive you, especially
the ones you cherish”
― Justin Chin, Harmless Medicine

“A charm has only as much power as one puts into it./ I wear it because it is such a pretty thing./ And the person who gave it to me/ cared enough for my protection:/ a reason greater than any faith.”
― Justin Chin, Harmless Medicine

“A dream only becomes one
when you wake up.”
― Justin Chin

“But I know, I know my death
will not kill me.
Rather it is the death of others
that will kill me.”
― Justin Chin, Gutted

“I'm also not sure exactly where and I when I got the language for
who and what I am. I don't remember how I learned the words gay,
homo(sexual), fag, queer, etc. I just seemed to have picked them up
and undertsood what they meant.”
― Justin Chin, Mongrel: Essays, Diatribes, Pranks

“A man I used to love died in a hospital alone. We had grown apart and lost touch. I met a common friend one day at a bar and he told me about my ex-lover. Nobody claimed the body for two weeks: His parents refused, his only sister could not be found, and the hospital was certainly not going to release the body to his AA sponsor. So after two weeks they cremated him like all the other unclaimed bodies, put his ashes into a jar, and then allowed anyone to take it. But no one did. He was buried by the municipality in an unmarked grave. I drove to the cemetery. He was buried in Lot 12, Block 86, Section D. Incredibly precise locations for a person who is nothing but ashes unclaimed.”
― Justin Chin, Burden of Ashes

“I am queer for my lover's body. Horehound is mescalinestrong. Dazzling as expensive fireworks. One taste of my Horehound's feast and I beg for his tendrils to twine around my genitals like how a bull is primed for a rodeo. I am ready to be ridden until I kneel on the dusty ground, horns to the dirt, begging to be tamed. Tame me, my sweet, my bitter Horehound. Make me grow unfettered around your body, as your namesake grows.

Lie still; let my tongue function as fingertips, my senses of touch
and taste meld. Let me be the cartographer of your body I know how
to start: from your left nipple, closer to your heart, where the
pump of blood heats that tit more than the other. A more flavourful
place to begin, no? Let me suck, childhungry, until it spurts bitter
on my tongue, pushing my mission to the hollow under your left arm,
again warmer because of your pumping heart. I will nestle in your
brush, press my mouth and nose close to your skin, follow the flow
of your blood as a paper boat in a storm drain does, forcefully,
involuntarily, to your left wrist, kiss your fingers as if they were
a sacrament, read the lines in your palm. I will find the oases, the
monuments, the dikes, the hells, the battlegrounds of your body so I
will know where to hide when you love me or when you fury me.”
― Justin Chin, Burden of Ashes