allmyhandsaretired

[allmyhandsaretired]

wild animal caught in a snare (hoyo en la banqueta del tamaño de mi pie derecho)

[allmyhandsaretired]

Witches in a Halloween procession. Decorated crepe paper. Dennison Manufacturing Co. 1913-1919. Framingham, Mass.

Smithsonian

[allmyhandsaretired]

VVitch, Adrienne Adams

[allmyhandsaretired]

By all accounts corruption seems forced upon and unguardable. Adulthood borne on first tragedy. This is not where the jealousy comes from, not where the divide is found, none can resow saintliness or run the waxing away off. However, there live them who did not learn of a second language until their coming of age. There live them who were ignorant long after their bone-ache, long after their teeth longed, long after their throat got bitten.

Here is where we break, jealousy of them who did not walk among humanity until they could meet it's eyes, whose first tragedy was not worn in the body. It all comes too quick and martyrdom too futile.

[allmyhandsaretired]

first came the tale of the dog grandpa loved on a chain said it respected him

only respected him was half wolf they said thats why we love animals so much now the family does they said it loved no one

loved no one but grandpa and his chain they said but before before wouldn't respect him wouldn't respect him they said that couldn't be

that couldn't be everyone respected him they said grandpa had won it grandpa deserved it and so did the dog did the chain the dog they said it had to know

it had to know what fear was when it came from whipping they said it they said it must it must and we learn because we must they said and the chain met the dog made the dog fear met the chain

met the chain alone won't pain came to the dog in learning it meant to harm it and he meant to harm it wanted to would and would love it they said they said it's righteous it is true they said learn from the dog they said learn to respect us they said do not get us angry they said we do not want to harm you they said do not make us want to they said do not make us love it we don't want to harm you

[allmyhandsaretired]

violence ran dry here not as in, there came to be none, as in, there was never blood with it. as we were to understand it, would not make beasts of them by making them harm us. only stories, only stories, of how father bled and grandfather made bleed, of how lucky we were they couldn't touch us, much too civilized, would never. only came close once. haha. otherwise, only not enough, never angry, just sad you were never enough.

[allmyhandsaretired]

First kid died in winter four years ago and one of us has gone a year. At least. I do mean us loosely maybe, not friends, maybe dropped and healed broken together. A light in the eyes or a lack thereof, a league in question squeezed out shut, a repudiation that begins when you ask them: Do I know you? We do not want to be known by our past.

First young adult died six months ago, a whole class came together for it, she was about to conquer the world, went missing first. One a year or so, it happens, can't help it, one a year, also best in their whole class, best among all their peers even. Was it supposed to start so soon? We lose them like I imagine veterans do.

[allmyhandsaretired]

i don't remember crying but- is how the stories we'd tell each other would start at 17, doomed age for the ones who don't escape suckling branding. i don't remember crying but- is how we'd start to pull the yarn skin off each other, tissues from a tissue box pulling entrails after themselves. i don't think i had survived this until recently, few of them didn't survive at all.

[allmyhandsaretired]

Elektra in Mycenae, Casey J. King

[allmyhandsaretired]

Autumn shyness slowly dawns and words coop up again, I wonder why the reshelling occurs. In any case, I refute it, do not want it, do not need it. Think you often, is what I think I should keep to myself and not say, but keeping quiet never did do me any good. Call this learning different (or what you want, can't help it), for you to find if you ever wonder if I've thought of you. I rarely don't, have to stop telling myself to hold it from you, lately realized you may have seen of me as often as I spent telling myself to look away. Rue the language that may mismatch between us, can't blame it however.

[allmyhandsaretired]

Ojala Zambra hubiera escrito su número al final del libro para poder marcarle y pedirle consejo. Yo creo que nada mas se reiría porque ya bien me había explicado y me diría que ni atención puse. Quiero pensar que lo diría hasta con cariño.

[allmyhandsaretired]

Antes de que sea mañana, el sol hoy brillo casi retando a la palidez del día y el suelo calentó suficiente para tirar gatos.

[allmyhandsaretired]

And maybe that's why believing in God is.

[allmyhandsaretired]

The fear has turned tasteless or the bile no longer disgusts, in any form, it's evaporated into it's most base form in my mouth because I've kept opening my jaw. I fear, now, the fear of a man at the end of a cave, with no rope, who can't get out, shouting into the maw which runs towards the light; he shouts because he believes that someone will listen, the other option is unbearable.

[allmyhandsaretired]

The creature fear

[allmyhandsaretired]

My collection of unsent letters piles into a well, there is a burst forth between ebbs and the rim spills the few words aching overflow. The rest stay behind, they can not agree on wether they were meant to be kept quiet. Why write if not for the one like you who is to come. Later, later, later. Later, when the next kindred is alone and looking for an echo, your shout pushed forth from the past. Why write, to point at the flag and show someone's threaded these heights before. An affront, a displeasure turned motion, choosing to ask why. Not many here.