January 2012
30 posts
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Boys are told from a young age that whatever they do will be excused under the “boys will be boys” mantra, and that “boys will be boys” mentality leads to what I call the “boiling frog” problem of women’s sexual boundaries. I call it that because if you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will jump right out, but if you put a frog into a pot of room-temperature water and slowly heat it to a...
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I love you and your scars; Silverfish swarming your skin. You are rosebuds and cocoons - on the brink of being lovely. Well I would like to womb you, and I hope it’s not too much to ask for, but I wish I could birth you. See, now I feel dizzy. Or shrink you and swallow you, burn you and smoke you. You’re the polka dots behind my eyelids when I lose consciousness, that wrap around and suffocate my...
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“The Moon will never lie to anyone. Be like the moon. No one hates the moon or...”
– Henry Rollins
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Interviewer: In your new novel, Pale Fire, one of the characters says that reality is neither the subject nor the object of real art, which creates its own reality. What is that reality?
Nabakov: Reality is a very subjective affair. I can only define it as a kind of gradual accumulation of information; and as specialization. If we take a lily, for instance, or any other kind of natural object, a...
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I. her body, this fragile shimmering suit that is hers. the tumor, the sarcoma, the black seam between her trembling lamb thighs.
II. in her sleep, she chews on a bubble gum from her dreams. always: the smell of raspberry of her sweet holes.
III. nymphets with gently rotting hearts, inserting all their coins in lollipop machines, selling small neck kisses when they’re indigent....
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for the first time in recent memory i had a truly wonderful new years. i had absolutely no anticipations or expectations for the evening, but if i had, last night would’ve surpassed them.
the night started out typical enough; a quiet, albeit lovely dinner with my mother, sister and her boyfriend (my poor dad couldn’t join us because he was ill) ~ the meal was accompanied by a few...
December 2011
50 posts
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An emere, in traditional Yoruba culture, is a child who can travel between the spiritual and physical world at will. A negative connotation is associated with the word, as it implies that a family’s child may disappear and reappear at will. The impatient emere wants the best of heaven and Earth.
An emere is a spirit in disguise, misrepresenting death as life, and is clever enough to disguise his...
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I love girls with skin like milk, a craving for calcium, wonderful hidden nymphatic rushes orbiting all of their moons. Their pink lips bloated with air where I’d rest my kisses. Pastel blue eyes - a watercolour between my sheets. Sweetest milky girls.
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A Sad Child by Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget. Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it...
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Cherry
liquored push unfolded thighs he advances inserts into girl inward breathing machine peeling sugar tongue mine tears tender unripe cherry bleed blow her rupture condone mechanical pump fire when she opens mouth ingests he inserts hands spread eagle bind nightshift quiet skin...
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entsinnen asked: Hey, How was your Christmas? :)
