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 Jul 2014
Jillyan Adams
There is an old adage - I'm sure you've heard it - that life without movement is death.

today I feel the truth of it
somewhere between my sternum and my spine
as I sit here
the parade of life rushing by
in a distinct effort
to leave me
behind
and all I can think
all I can hear
all I can know
is


*"I am most certainly dying."
 Jul 2014
Mikaila
I am
So tired.
I am cold
And white
And blind.
On my wrists,
Defensive wounds
From a vicious love,
From the kisses
Of a black asp
With constellation eyes.

I have been reliving my death.
I have been choosing
That sweet, frigid venom,
An addict dripping poison into my veins.

But I am
So tired.
I am spent
And lost
And alone.
There are bruises on the soft insides of my arms
From a habit of worshiping
Sharp things.
Under my fingernails,
Dark soil
Evidence of a grave I've overcome
Too many times
And a struggle I've won
At a cost.

I am sick of death.
Sick of attending funerals for the futures I lose
Brutally and unexpectedly.
I am sick of being tolerated.
I am sick of being
Sorry.
I want to feel life in me.
I want to learn the taste of sunlight
And safety.
Of forgiveness--
I hear
It is sweet as warm honey.
(I wouldn't
Know)

I have gazed....
Oh, I have gazed long,
And the void saw me
As I saw it.
And long after I wished I could look elsewhere
I stood, gorgonized, on the edge.

Hold my hand.
Remind me that I have hands.
Spread light
In me.
Forgive me for my gravity as I lean forward on that hollow breeze that's always calling.
Pull me back and keep me
Steady.

I will never be
On solid ground.
I will never be easy.
I will never be
Safe.
I am half light and half shadow,
Half joy and half pain,
Half kindness and half anger.
I am a great, twisted tree,
With my branches in heaven
And my roots
In hell.
Love that in me,
Will you?
Will somebody?
I am ready
To bloom.
I am ready
To live.
I am ready to be exactly
What I am.
 Jul 2014
Aoife Teese
pink hearts and red flowers are easily handled
movie tickets and sun exposure
in the name of seeing one another
for a little bit longer

dinner dates and meeting my mother
holding each other for hour upon hour
under the impression that things
might be okay

and my ribcage is disappearing
underneath layers and layers of good intention
and i can feel the masks withering and cracking
and i am scared
 Jun 2014
Mikaila
I never want to be second best to a man because I am not one ever again. It BOTHERS me. It keeps me up nights. It's... humiliating. It stokes a rage in me that I don't like- it's ugly, and hot, and pressurized, and it never seems to lessen, only grow. I am so good at being silent, at being nice, at being a good sport. But I've been getting worse at it for years. As I've begun to realize just how much I've lost to men because they think they're better than me, because everyone thinks they're better than me, because sometimes I even think they must be better than me. I've started to lose my grip on that quiet, humble girl who doesn't fight for what she loses. I sit up at 1:30 in the morning and sometimes I can't stop stewing over the fact that some men think they can unclothe me with their eyes and I'll secretly like it, that everyone on the ****** earth assumes that I will want a man, marry a man, that I'm LOOKING constantly for a ******* MAN. Is that what straight girls do? I didn't think so... But as I look around, really look, the world makes it seem as though every ******* thing is centered upon finding and keeping a man. And I don't want one. And I resent having to explain that day in and day out to everybody I ever meet, and even to people who have known me for years and KNOW how I feel about the subject. And no, nothing set this off- this is how it is all the time. I am just disgusted sometimes, that if I don't shout constantly (obnoxiously) people will slide me into my designated spot in the world- a white picket fence with a hubby and 2.5 kids and a small adhd medication habit- and I will be LOST to that. Obliterated by what is expected of me. I'm not doing it. I will never do it. I don't want a man. I don't want to BE a man. I don't want to marry a man. Honestly, on days when I truly allow myself to think about this subject in depth, I don't even want to LOOK at a ******* man. I don't want to know that because my hair is long and my waist happens to be 20 inches, men find me attractive. That my long eyelashes and high heels make it oh-so-hard-to-believe I'm not straight, and that much more disappointing if, in fact, they ever do believe me on the subject. I don't want to look up by accident and see a guy leering at my ***. I don't want my sarcastic remarks taken as flirting. I don't want to ever hear the phrase "You're too pretty to be a lesbian." again. I'm not gay because I'm angry at men. I'm angry at men because I'm a woman. Being gay happens to slide the binary into focus even more. Masculinity is valued. Femininity is insulting. There are classes on it. And I understand that not all men are *******, but honestly... all men take from me. They do. I'm sorry if that offends you, or if that makes it hard to view the world the way you do, but hey, it offends me. Offense is not an order of change. It's how you feel. And I am deeply offended that men win over me. I'm offended that it's a contest, and I'm offended that I am ill equipped to compete. I'm offended that women seem to see having a boyfriend as an achievement, as something you earn and flaunt and show off to other girls and boast of, when I was hardly able to hold hands with the girl I loved in high school, in fear that her family would find out. I'm offended that she couldn't be proud to be with me the way she'd be proud to bring a boy home and plunk him down at the dinner table on Thanksgiving- "Look, Ma, I got one!" I will always be offended. I don't expect anything to be done about it. But I do sit up nights and think about it. I do. It bothers me that men are worth more than I am- and for what? What are they really that I am not? The answer is very simple and utterly infuriating in its pointlessness: They are men.
This would be the rant that ended up on facebook this morning... And this would be the comment I left below it:
(I swear to god, do NOT comment on here and try to begin a debate about individuals and how men are all different people and blanket statements are unfair and- no. I happen to have a brain. I do know this. I'm talking big picture, large scale, the gender that rules the earth and has since the dawn of time, and the things I've lost because of the culture that has grown out of that. And so help me, if you try to start an argument about how I'm actually the one victimizing people, I will lose my mind. It is my right to be offended, and if you are offended by my offense, that is your right. And we both have our lovely emotional rights, and we needn't talk about it. Okay? Okay.)
 Jun 2014
Strange Chameleon
A toddler is a giant when standing on the highest surface in a playground.
Later, reaching the top branch of a tree means a child has reached the top of their world.
Now I'm sitting on top of 12 story building and can see the tops I thousands of trees.
Shouldn't I feel like I own the world? Like everything is tiny in comparison to me?

It doesn't. Instead I feel small and so unimportant.
I can't go any higher. There is just an empty sky above.

I guess that is the result of being above what you really are.
Sin
Moved by ungracious deeds,
minds lost in wedded eyes.
Sanity is overrated....
Sin is not.
 Jun 2014
rained-on parade
You fell in love with me.

I just hope you jumped.
Not slipped.
 Jun 2014
Mikaila
I am always so glad when I find another girl who writes love poems about women.
I get so tired of watching romances that tug at my heart....if I imagine I am the man.
Of reading books and finding that the plot revolves around obtaining a boyfriend.
Of listening to songs of love and heartbreak that I know were written about men.
I'm sick of knowing that it's more of an achievement to have a boy than it is to love a girl.
I'm sick of reading magazines and flipping past half of the articles- "8 Things Guys Notice About You Instantly" and "Make Him Hot For You".
I'm sick of being hidden.
It wears on you. Nobody ever talks about it.
Why does nobody ever talk about it?
I'm sick of knowing that if I were a boy, I would have been with many of the girls I've loved, would have been forgiven for more flaws, would have been seen so differently.
I don't want to be a man. I don't want to love a man.
I don't want either to be expected of me.
And honestly, I don't want to lose to a man.
But I know that that will be happening to me for the rest of my life, and so I swallow my pride.
And I watch other movies. And I write my own stories. And I sing my own songs. And I don't read magazines.
And I give everything I can to the girls I love, and hope that everything from me will mean more than something from a boy.
It rarely ever does.
 Jun 2014
Mikaila
To love a woman is perhaps one of the most exquisite, uncertain, complicated, excruciating, maddening things you can experience in this life.
To truly love a woman, and appreciate it fully,
I think maybe you do have to be a little bit mad.
And... I am addicted to it.
And the women I love are punishingly extraordinary.
And if this love brings me to an end someday, well...
There are worse ways to go.
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