bisexual, any pronouns, disabled, white, twenties | playing dice with my small corner of the universe | reblogs from @diceystealstheinternet
63 posts
Day 3: Bait. To Reel 'em In. Another Poem To Go With My Sketch And I'm Falling For Inktober. Hook, Line,

Day 3: Bait. To reel 'em in. Another poem to go with my sketch and I'm falling for Inktober. Hook, line, and sinker.
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My heart on a hook,
Such sweet bait to catch a crook.
My soul on a string.
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AKB 2019
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ambroseharte liked this · 5 years ago
More Posts from Diceydeals

Day 4: Freeze. Couldn't get this out of my head today.
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Bright noise, Loud lights flash.
Freeze! Hands up, Down on the ground.
Mess of cops and kids.
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AKB 2019
"That's my psychological support husband!"
- actual quote from my mother who has no clue about memes or the internet or but sir, that's my emotional support anything... so,,, I guess everyone now and then humans go and reinvent well know tumblr phrases huh?
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A tree is growing
In a place it shouldn't be;
But it's beyond me.
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AKB 2020
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
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