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Gay

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And a nation of queer people held their breath

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Break the system

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SECOND ESTRANGEMENT

Please raise your hand, whomever else of you has been a child, lost, in a market or a mall, without knowing it at first, following a stranger, accidentally thinking he is yours, your family or parent, even grabbing for his hands, even calling the word you said then for “Father,” only to see the face look strangely down, utterly foreign, utterly not the one who loves you, you who are a bird suddenly stunned by the glass partitions of rooms.                                        How far the world you knew, & tall, & filled, finally, with strangers.

ARACELIS GIRMAY

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Eric Gamalinda, "DMZ"

At the end of my life I must stagger back to love, my body a weight I am sick of carrying, my pockets filled with intricate maps and useless strategies. I ask forgiveness of everyone who loved me —you have been grievously misled. I cash my name in, such a useful thing —let’s hope someone else has more luck with it. I return the suit I borrowed, promises I couldn’t mend, the happiness just one more quarter-inch within my reach—loose change still good for a pauper’s meal. I surrender my history and all memory, its ammunition. The nameless claim me. Exiles offer me a home. Who else sees me as I truly am, just another vehicle transporting so much fuel? I light my anger like a pile of twigs. I do this in the desert: it scares away anything that will devour me. I do this in the city, where the jackhammer cracks the cranium of the earth, and nothing can save me. I lose myself among the restless immigrants, their bodies still warm from the lust and gunfire of slums. Grief is a nation of everyone, a country without borders. I roam the avenues of it out of habit. Summoned to testify on everyone’s behalf, I’m sticking to my story. It’s better not to talk about the wounded, or the moist remains of the disappeared. But there’s always one who can tell, in the packed amplitude of crowds. We are so many bodies, my friends. We all move in the same direction. As though someone had a plan.

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Jon Santos, you will always be famous

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Puppytail!

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We stan a prophetic queen

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Still true

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For real

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When asked why I fancy Raja

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Still here

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I know this is a Latrice-Mo Heart lip sync song but these two DRPH queens that I adore dearly just looked stunning

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