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#inversion
I waited too long. Exclamation points cut through me hurting like a dull knife. A voice arrived, as if he knew my real name, rearranging the drawers inside my head. He woke me at midnight and whispered the past tense in the kitchen of my messy life. A guest called a mango a tomato. He laughed into my left ear. I gave up. I couldn’t rise above the verb. When he was about to leave, I felt a deep fear. He shook the dust off “I can’t.” I followed him to see who I was in a hard shell, and who I’ll be outside it. He told me only to write scattered thoughts until I say enough to live carrying myself.
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Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 9:48 PM UTC
Inversion
A noisy impatient fly Humming by my ear like the fluorescent light overhead Near imperceptible, but in the silence, grating As it sung out, buzz, buzz, buzz, out of itself, Always droning, never a pause in the incessant Static. And you, O my soul, where you sit, Trapped in a cocoon of web, never quite alone But immovably stagnant, perhaps once learning, chasing, dancing, Seeking that elusive something, Till exhausted by the endless journey, only ever wishing For a home That you never found, but barely existing you continue, O my soul.
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Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 2:26 PM UTC
A Noisy Impatient Fly
Upon my beating heart A little bird perches and trills Of life’s many wonders And its numerous thrills Of love and war, I hear him sing Of how war does hurt And of how love does sting Of loss, he chirps, And of bloodshed, of death But it’s my love he sings of With a final shuddering breath
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Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 1:07 PM UTC
Day One: Inversion
First among many. That was me, to you; the first from the last. The last among many. That was you, to me; the last from the rest. Quite a nice position, wasn't it? A woman of many talents, of many stories that were too late told, of hardships in silence buried. A lifetime of rollercoasters, of standing on a pedestal and being struck to the ground, heel to skull, teeth to pavement, threatening to never let up. Yet you did, and have not spoken of it since. Do the words 'too little, too late' ring any bells? Does the phrase 'less is more' still hold true? In my mind, I see you in an ocean of darkness Helpless, and friendless, suffering in silence. Yet, you're hardened by years of experience, of hurt in the dark, of scars in the night. You, an old dog, and one of your oldest tricks -- licking your wounds in isolation, willing the world to do its worst as you weathered the storm, one that you've already withstood before. I can only describe you as an Inverse; a woman who, ignoring her own palms skinned to muscle, to bone, built ramps and laid bridges to give children enough space to run; who, turning her back from a life of rejection and hate, showered everyone with only gratitude, and love, and everything that she knew she deserved but never received. You, who brought words to life in a language so deeply underappreciated, have rendered the world speechless. You, who have shown strength in the face of adversity, have rendered your blood weak. A woman of contradictions, contradictions of the best kind -- for even in death, we celebrate life.
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Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
'La
First among many. That was me, to you; the first from the last. The last among many. That was you, to me; the last from the rest. Quite a nice position, wasn't it? A woman of many talents, of many stories that were too late told, of hardships in silence buried. A lifetime of rollercoasters, of standing on a pedestal and being struck to the ground, heel to skull, teeth to pavement, threatening to never let up. Yet you did, and have not spoken of it since. Do the words 'too little, too late' ring any bells? Does the phrase 'less is more' still hold true? In my mind, I see you in an ocean of darkness Helpless, and friendless, suffering in silence. Yet, you're hardened by years of experience, of hurt in the dark, of scars in the night. You, an old dog, and one of your oldest tricks -- licking your wounds in isolation, willing the world to do its worst as you weathered the storm, one that you've already withstood before. I can only describe you as an Inverse; a woman who, ignoring her own palms skinned to muscle, to bone, built ramps and laid bridges to give children enough space to run; who, turning her back from a life of rejection and hate, showered everyone with only gratitude, and love, and everything that she knew she deserved but never received. You, who brought words to life in a language so deeply underappreciated, have rendered the world speechless. You, who have shown strength in the face of adversity, have rendered your blood weak. A woman of contradictions, contradictions of the best kind -- for even in death, we celebrate life.
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