une-tres-lente-neige-de-cristal:
le vide qui t’épie
derrière tes vitres sales –ces lumières éparses, car
c’est la nuit de novembreoù se tapit le vide.
Category: Non classé
high five if you’re one of those sensitive look-away-from-the-camera-while-smirking butches with the broody poetry and the v necks with the cardigans
you know the ones, the ones that go for walks by themselves with their headphones on listening to obscure female folk singers and bringing home cool rocks in their pockets to show to no one
they’re probably a writer or they play an instrument. or both. they’re dressed in soft blues and blacks and they have a collection of obscure queer literature that they read while they drink unsweetened early grey with the windows open so they can hear the rain
i am literally talking about myself but also! you know this is a thing. everyone knows this lesbian though they probably rarely see or hear from them bc we’re all hiding in our houses reading caitlin r. kiernan and listening to big thief
I’m more of a “challenge you to an arm wrestling contest behind Taco Bell and lose” kinda butch but I appreciate the hell out of you.
yess. true solidarity.
hey op id like you to disable the cameras youve somehow managed to put in my house ok thank you have a nice day
men who continue to hit on lesbians after being told that they are lesbians, or take “no thanks i’m a lesbian” as some kind of challenge, in my experience, don’t value consent or autonomy and are usually actual sexual predators
these toxic kinds of men are a continual theme in my life as i juggle Internalized Homophobia and Trauma Responses while they toss me some Invasion of Personal Space and Power Over Me in Professional Spaces like flaming bowling pins in some kind of misogynistic traveling circus where i have to perform while the ringmaster uses a loudspeaker to shout things like “i only hit on you so you feel like part of the team” and “i had a sex dream about you but i didn’t finish”
reblogging to remind myself why i need to use my writing to get out of the kitchen and away from these men
HAY GAYZ i got a new job i start in two weeks time and i never have to see those people ever again if i don’t want to. God is real and he is a big hairy lesbian
Renée Vivien, sadly forgotten lesbian symbolist poète maudit, decadence incarnate, and general badass.
“What she remembers are the kisses they forget…
She cannot learn to desire without feeling grief,
She who gazes still, with melancholy beset,
At flowers dying after night orgies, so brief.”
Sad BACCHANTE, tr. Melanie Davis
whenever i eat mushrooms i think about how one day mushrooms are gonna eat me… i make sure to chew really gently so they’ll return the favor 2 my corpse
Hey op
me, through a mouthful of gently-chewed mushrooms: yeah?
Don’t be afraid to destroy men’s lives over crimes they chose to commit.
LOUDER
Watch This College Student Get Pwned By His Two-Year-Old Son
– Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
What makes this funny is that in the actual novel once the creature learned how to speak he was actually very articulate and could indeed talk circles around Victor. He wasn’t just physically stronger, he was smarter.
Could This Two-Year-Old Be Smarter Than A College Dropout?
*parent voice* what do you mean you’re actually insecure about the features i’ve mercilessly teased you over for years? you feel things? lol ok
