Tag: spilled emotions

when your mother tells you you’re beautiful
smile and say thank you. 
do not tell her that you don’t really care how beautiful you look because:  1) you know your worth, and 2) your confidence doesn’t come from how attractive others find you. 

when your mother tells you what to wear
give in and let her dress you like a doll. 
do not fight for your right to dress how you please; deny yourself the ability to represent your gender identity the way you feel comfortable. wear the goddamn dress to church.  

when your mother tells you you’ve gained weight
laugh and crack a joke. 
do not tell her how rude and unnecessary her comment is, or that you wish she’d stop placing so much value on your looks, because it’s taken you a long time, but you’ve finally learned your weight does not define you or your beauty. 

when your mother says you ‘don’t need’ to be eating the coconut milk ice cream out of the carton,
tell her she’s right and put it back in the freezer.
do not take another bite and tell her to mind her own business because you can eat what you damned well please.

do not remind her that you no longer share her body. 

do not remind her that her opinion doesn’t matter anymore. 

do not remind her you are not her mirror.

how to never get in an argument with your mother // a.s.m

they told me i couldn’t 
hallucinate without
the LSD, 
that i don’t really hear the
wind whisper to me.
but this isn’t
a bad trip. i really do
have nightmares about
my own goddamn mother. and
sometimes i swear the sky isn’t blue
so much as it is the absence
of red. and sometimes
all the speaking i do is just
in my head and
the cars driving by sound like
my best friend committing
suicide after
eighth grade graduation.
this isn’t a bad trip.
i’m telling you, the ghosts
still speak even after
you’ve lost the ability to hear
them. 
i am stuck
in this dimension that
you only visit to vacation,
and let me tell you,
you’re never here
when it rains.

this isn’t a bad trip // a.s.m

first,
they are soft: a feather
grazing the inside of my
wrist. then they dance
with mine, two bodies pressed
closely together,
swaying in synchronization.
then,
they are a blanket: light
but warm, hugging
me close, keeping me safe,
blowing air into my
lungs, singing quietly
of an adoration i can
feel. a nibble
of a desire to taste
my entire being.
i savor
the way your hunger feels
on my tongue.

when you kiss me // a.s.m

it’s so cold out here,
my bones are vibrating.
my thumb seems to have forgotten 
how to flick a lighter, 
but i don’t feel the icy tongue
of the wind on my skin. 
i am half-cooked: well done
on the outside, but raw
in the core. perhaps
all i need is a cigarette
to light me. but i know fires
never last on the coldest nights;
even the brightest flames
eventually die.
i can’t hold this
damn bogie still enough
for it to
kiss the flame; the moons
of my fingers are turning purple
and the rawness is
creeping to the surface.

i am still raw in the center // a.s.m

i think perhaps
small bits of my
heart are eroding
off and being
carried through my blood
stream to my brain because
i’ve been having trouble
separating the two
lately. i’m worried
pieces
of my heart have
taken root in the striatum
(an invasive species on once fertile soils):
i fear i may do
something stupid.

the fusing of heart and mind // a.s.m

your hands 
on the outer walls of a mountain 
you are about to climb into,
dig your hands within
the soil. feel her move
beneath you,
hear the wind scream his name. 
hear it echo in the distance,
hear it slowly begin to fade.

climbing mountains // a.s.m

1. If their eyes ever falter as you walk into a room, walk away. You may not believe it, but you deserve to be reflected in their irises.   

2. If you’re sitting in your bed with their voice echoing in your head, using your sheets to wipe your nose, and can think of sixteen reasons to go and one to stay, you should go. You will find someone better for you, I promise.  

3. If you go into it hoping you can get them to smoke less weed or stop saying ‘fuck’ so damn much, don’t go further. Old habits die hard, if at all; make sure you can live with their quirks.

4. If they hold their glass of vodka closer than your waist, let them go. You do not deserve to come in second to their vices.

5. If they pinch your love handles and tell you your curls look better straightened, leave. The way you were created deserves to be adored.

6. Know you are worth millions of atoms, of stardust and spiraling staircases of double helixes, and do not accept anything less than love.

you are worthy: things i wish i had known when i met you // a.s.m

you’re too young to be hiding
in the closet
full of clothes your
mother bought you. 

you’re too young to 
hate yourself so much
that you dream of hiding
in there forever, just so you
never again have to wear a dress
on Easter. 

you’re too old 
to be living as anything but
what paints your stomach lining. 
project it in color on city walls. 
scream it drunkenly off of rooftops
to the whole world, a reminder: 

your tiny planet will
never stop spinning as long as you
continue to push it.

your life is too short to be squeezing yourself into clothes that don’t fit who you are // a.s.m

Even before it hits
it is there, building up
in the depths of my ocean;
churning and ruminating
in my darkness.

When it crashes within me
this time, I gasp for breath; for hope
that I can do this alone.
For the first time you are not here
to help me float.
For the first time I must learn
to swim on my own.

Waves // a.s.m