bisexual, any pronouns, disabled, white, twenties | playing dice with my small corner of the universe | reblogs from @diceystealstheinternet
63 posts
Day 2: Mindless? I Certainly Felt It. More Of A Doodle Than Anything... Now With Free Haiku!
Day 2: Mindless? I certainly felt it. More of a doodle than anything... Now with free haiku!
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Brainless not mindless.
Sure, don't mean you can trust me...
Decide for yourself.
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AKB 2019
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More Posts from Diceydeals
Rock Climbing
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Bruised knees purple like my nail varnish,
chipped and jagged like the fingers of mountains
carressing the clouds,
callouses where I grip at the rock face like it's your hand.
I hold myself up on you but my wrists ache and my arms spasm and I fall.
You are not my safety mat.
Not basecamp but heady heights.
I climb and retreat. You are unmoved.
There is no give when I crash into you.
No mitigating yourself for my presence.
I cannot live my life where you are.
The air too thin, the sights so dizzy, the light bright enough to make my eyes blink
and I have to look away.
No space for mortals in these craggy halls open under the sky.
Just the risk of exposure. No tent,
No shelter here.
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AKB 2020
TIME IS THE FOURTH DIMENSION
WE'RE ALL HERE WORKING IN 4D LIKE IT'S 3030
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what do I do when I disappear?
instagram is empty
and the devils are here
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AKB 2019
crab 🦀
crash
Words From Before
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Women power my body:
they are neither consumed for calories
- eat their love and labour -
nor burned for fuel on pyres
- their bodies have always fueled hatred -
yet they are the force behind
every action, each choice.
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My mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.
We consist of cells and stars and oceans;
we subsist on truth and tales and lies.
My mother told me I have in me
my grandmothers' mitochondria
- I don't know who told her -
but she wants to believe it so I believe it too
- my mother told me so I want it to be true...
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Being a woman is just:
[inherits mother's dreams and trauma][inherits grandmother's trauma and mitochondria][inherits great-grandmother's dreams and trauma][inherits]
...
I never research for poems or I start writing essays;
I just listen to my elders,
listen to my ancestors,
and get lost there instead.
Listen to my self and my body and the 'verse.
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In the shower I let my body be
itself
its curves not hidden by tucks and layers,
not displayed in heels and high-waisted jeans,
not stuffed into bras
and smuggled into knickers;
I just let the water run, let my calloused hands smooth my soft body, wash and stroke away the hurts I've caused.
My hair tangles, it wants to be short.
But my body just is
as it is
as it is.
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Powered by the mitochondria of my grandmothers
and their grandmothers
and theirs
and the 'verse.
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AKB 2020