To Be Trans Is To Be Your Own Pallbearer / To Carry The Weight Of A Dead Person Around With You / My

to be trans is to be your own pallbearer / to carry the weight of a dead person around with you / my gender can't speak / but even if it could / it'd stay hidden in the corner of every room / trying to keep quiet anyway / learn to piece my parts together on an assembly line / learn to code a language where I am not excluded / if my gender had a pair of arms / it'd point out all the rallies I didn't get the invitation for / how in the second wave we fought for gender equality / and limited the number to two / if my gender could be sold / it wouldn't fit inside the pages of Ms. magazine / if my gender had legs, it would sprint / catch up with all the progress that feminism is making / all the FUCKING progress that / T.E.R.F. feminism is making

excerpt of "Sweet Cis Teen" from Maggot - Dazey and the Scouts

George Seferis, ‘On a Ray of Winter Light’

Unfortunately the way to leave the house is just to do it. You gotta put on some bad eyeliner and go to the club alone and talk to no one and get too drunk and cry all the way home because you're so useless. And then you wake up the next day and realize, "Oh, I guess that wasn't so bad." Maybe you do it a few more times just to get the lesson to really stick. And then you're free. Then you can do anything.

his heart was deeper than the ocean, yes it was. you’d swim down, wade the freezing darkness hidden within, hit cold floor, and phase right through to the core of the earth. it’s hot. it’s hell. it’s hades’ river.

“full of ghosts” - a.c.

what do they put in october and november that makes them the most ungodly mental breakdown psychosis inducing months imaginable. what are they storing in the orange leaves and generally grey drowsy atmosphere

“You want to be brothers-in-arms, to have him to yourself… to be shipwrecked together, (to) perform valiant deeds to earn his admiration, to save him from certain death, to die for him - to die in his arms, like a Spartan, kissed once on the lips… or just run his errands in the meanwhile. You want him to know what cannot be spoken, and to make the perfect reply, in the same language.”

— Tom Stoppard, The Invention of Love