Tiff ☆ > Recent Status Updates

Villiam... ur gay

Here we go again..

Pushing to reach the end of something insufferable

Reading this feels so violating
In unbearable ways

Forgive my boy's inherited crimes —
the voices that spin his brain into a wooden horse. Grant him a warm home, far away from this body.
My blood has never been & will never be
kind.

It's okay to lock yourself in the medicine cabinet,
to drink all the wine,
to do what it takes without staying.
It's okay to hate God today, to change his name to yours,
to ruin all that ruined you.

How small or altered or distant must a part of us be before it stops being a part of us?

It is pointless to wish I had the hunger back instead of this endless grief.

And then the feeling passes. Leaves me. I look for it. In the moon. In me. Nothing but a new sense of the same empty.

I wondered if this was what being a real human was: accepting you were pieces of other people too. The people you loved and the people you hurt.

Do the boys know about this
Do they know it hurts this much
Of course they know, but it's not real pain to them. Pretend-pain. Not as painful as their pain.

Why must they speak so beautifully about cannibalism to me this way

I wondered if it was worth the fuss of making them feel loved if we were only going to pull them apart in the end.

You always knew the exact place the blade of the knife must slice to open the sweet part of the fruit. Is that not love?

Colonizers write about flowers
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies

I longed for the softness and surrender
that I mistook for faith.

But I have always been a beastly little thing at heart it seems.

"I lay flat in the bathtub like a wild infant, shower pouring"

Lately in the past few months or so I've found myself in that exact position, laying on the floor of the tub as I let the scorching hot shower water pelt me, I always wonder to myself if anyone else ever finds themselves in the same position. It's so lovely to see in a poem