is anyone else disgusted by the enormity of their desire or is it just me & richard siken

This is me if you even care (not my original quote)

Better to have said nothing at all

im gods favorite open wound

anonymously make an assumption about me and i'll confirm/deny it

we live our lives like the phases of the moons; ever-shifting, yet remaining. no matter the phase, the moon is always the moon, and our lives are always ours. it is about cycles. changing and returning.

breaking down like crumbling towers, like joints rubbing themselves raw; "i miss you, why won't you talk to me, where do i find the strength to say hello from a distance?"

one day we’ll let ourselves be angry. we’ll cry and scream and shout at each other. we’ll stop being refined and good, let our shields slough away and reveal the dark and twisting underbelly of our insides. we’ll throw things at the wall and we won’t apologize. we’ll let ourselves snap and break and splinter. and one day, we’ll let our fingers crack off and the anger spill out and our hatred of being good fill up our bones and we’ll feel free. 

it is and it isn't. it was and it will never be. there is you, and there is me, and there is the me that i am with you, the us-ness of you and me.

there is always an opposite. an antonym. it shares its meaning with the thing that it defies, it defines itself by what it opposes, so how could they be divorced from each other?

it will be so fine.

wake up in bed, warm sheets, warm heart. the sun greets you like a friend and it's fine.

eat what nourishes you. perform the routine with only minor setbacks, hitches that make you laugh instead of cry. engage with simple joys. it is so fine.

have moments of weakness. fall back into old habits. cry in the shower. this, too, is fine.

look your reflection in the eye and resolve to try again. wake up warm and greet the sun like a friend.

you will be so, so fine.

my body is a shipwreck, salt-soaked wood bloated and motionless at the bottom of the sea. storm-battered, destroyed, precious cargo lost to the currents. nothing left but a home for the sharks.

wage war on normalcy.

a soft palm curved over parted lips. gentle breath against your fingertips. in the dark we know each other by the quiet rhythms of our bodies, by the breath and the pulse and the shake. in the shallows of each other we find the depths of ourselves.

can we not escape this? the mud sucks us down, down, down. the rain threatens to drown, drown, drown. what end is in sight? who will be saved, and who will do the saving?

here's to the good girls, and the bad girls, and the bad-at-good girls. here's to the city girls, the country girls, the homeless girls who have it hard. here's to the half-girls, the sometimes-girls, the used-to-be-girls. here's to boy-girls and used-to-be-boy girls, big girls and gay girls and girls of every colour. girls, here's to you.

pity the sheep in wolf's clothing.