#bi poet

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal’s Vol. 2, 6.17.24 “Secondary Education"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

The world is ending Or so it feels For when each day introduces new sorrows What foreboding hope can any tomorrows Bring to adolescence Pubescence’s, incessant advancement of age

How many more firsts Must we experience To know that autumn surely ends And that spring is near with friends To bloom into kinder kith And let the apocalypse pass like the setting sun

I look up through a pane of glass With pained glance To wish upon stars that cannot be seen So that I might wish upon things that cannot have been For no matter the words that I write No matter my plight Cannot erase what story’s been written

So that the world keeps ending Even if fire reigns in the sky When the yearning heart aches After the blood pools and suicidal dream wakes Who will I be come this decade Or will I too, like my scars – up and fade

[inkskinned]

okay is she being actually immature or is it just a woman over 30 expressing a human experience you find to be immature.

like yeah. at certain ages... let shit go. im not defending the real immature shit. im not defending the karen you're picturing. i worked in retail i hate those people too. (once somebody got mad at me because she didn't like how our winter window decor was a snowman smoking a pipe. i wish i was joking).

but men at 57 will write books about how 17 year old girls are soooo sexy. they will invent worlds where women have to be naked for "armor reasons." they will write songs that treat women as objects. people rush to defend them. meanwhile a woman at 35 will be like "heartbreak is hard, actually" or "i feel betrayed by a friend" or "i am struggling with something emotionally." immediately people will say stuff like this woman is 35 by the way. by the way this woman is SO OLD to be experiencing this. BY THE WAY.

im 31, almost 32. the other day a poet was blasted online because at her "big age", she had written a poem about feeling unloved. top comment was "this woman is 29 by the way." this woman is too old to still be useful, by the way. she has to behave better . maybe if she was a good wife and mother she could stop existing loudly, and the story could continue on without her. this woman has served her purpose, by the way. she's so cringe, by the way. at 29 - so old! - she still hasn't figured out that her existence should be one of shame.

[llinstarr]

My poor boy😔

[egesizizmir]

Sarılıp yatmak mümkün değil, bende senden kalan hayale.

[im-secretly-a-frog]

"May I love you?"

I whispered in your ear,

you didn't seem to hear.

"Can I love you?"

Is it even allowed?

It's so hard to say aloud.

"Please, my darling,"

I wrapped my arms around you,

I didn't know what else to do.

"Call me darling."

I look into your eyes,

I look past your disguise.

I love you.

Gently.

Fiercely.

wonderfully.

Darling, let me love you.

[glasswaters]

an ode to happy trails. to furred backs and sloping bellies. to beards and bushy brows and yellowed teeth. to crooked smiles and rough laughter, to white a-shirts gone translucent with sweat.

hands gone rough with callouses. faces gone wrinkled and dark with age. chest hair with white streaks through it, jewellery worn and scratched.

a love letter to hairy calves, slashed with scars. to low smoldering grills and the scent of just-burnt meat. the sun has not yet set, this summer, and the grass has yellowed. there is laughter around the table, and the paper plates are stacked, half-full and mostly torn, by the bin.

to potatoes wrapped in aluminium foil, greasy fingers, to picking at corn and bones in between beer-softened giggles and burned shoulders. thinking idly about hair and mouths.

and beautiful men.

[dustykneed]

who’s your most favorite non Star Trek blorbo? :)

hilariously non-fandom (ish) but... mr john keating (dead poets society)! keating/mcallister is one of my favorite ships actually hahah. i know most people ship the boys but i guess i just made a beeline for the old married couple (as always xDD). i have this whole fix-it au for dps... 6k words of complete self indulgence and counting <333

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal's Vol. 2, 6.3.24 “Bonds of Attraction"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Atomically we are a family Made of positive and negative traits Atomically we are bonded To our platonic and romantic mates

At one scale I will never hold you My atoms passing through yours But is that not all the greater One that gives cause that soars

Atomically we are distinct With many gaps and flaws that form I am alone in this world of nucleotides Yet with your tenderness, warm

At another scale I resonate with the world around me Up and down the treble and bass clef notes So is that not all the sweeter Than all the music sung in choirs’ rotes

Atomically I exist, within a void –untouchable A construct of many, thoughts, and tons of -trons New that weave Prose and Neg at each aching breathe Forever changing my resonance without the cons

At one scale, when we touch There is no more me As there is no longer you We vibrate as the stars explode and simply become: we

[queerasfact]

Happy birthday Yona Wallach!

Born on 10 June 1944, Israeli poet Yona Wallach was openly bisexual. She rarely wrote about specific relationships, saying “I want to keep it as an experience, not turn it into words,” but several of her poems are explicitly about sex with female lovers.

When she started publishing in the 1960s, Yona became one of the few female voices in the male-dominated sphere of Hebrew poetry, and one of the first Hebrew poets to write openly about women’s sexuality.

Learn more

[Image: Yona Wallach sitting in a chair, smiling and holding a cigarette, source]

[crickit-song]

Scrolling through dead poets society AO3, nice to know that fucking everyone thought that movie was as gay as I did

[maaagsbunnny]

TTPD x Buddie is what made April, and probably the rest of the year, the best of my life. Like why are the songs fitting so perfectly over the whole Buddie storyline. It is like it was made for them.

[implicitlysad]

There's this girl I talk to

Oh how beautiful her mind

Oh how wounded and guarded her soul

Every word we exchanged carrying meanings nobody would truly understand and I feel myself for once craving only her presence and her voice

I do not touch her I do not hold her but I feel the version of me so profound and clear and warm around her

I hear stories of her horrors and she mine

And yet we carry the same blameless empathy holding no one accountable but us

And I see how my life will entangle hers and how her tears will cleanse me of my sins

To think I've only known her for days I could count in one hand

[queerv1nyl]

the weight of words

The late afternoon sun hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement outside Eddie’s house. The light filtered through the living room windows in golden slants, warming the space with a glow that was at odds with the quiet tension that hummed beneath the surface. It had been one of those long, grueling shifts at the station—the kind that left Buck's muscles sore and his mind buzzing with the residue of adrenaline. He had come over to Eddie's to unwind, as he often did, but tonight felt different.

Buck sat on the couch, shoulders tight, fingers tapping restlessly against his thighs. Eddie, standing a few feet away, watched him with that steady gaze of his—the one that made Buck feel like he was both being assessed and understood all at once.

“You did good today,” Eddie said, his voice calm, grounding.

Buck’s fingers froze mid-tap. The compliment, simple as it was, struck him harder than he’d expected. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Yeah?” Buck’s voice came out rougher than intended, and he glanced up at Eddie, unsure of what he was searching for. Approval, maybe. Reassurance. Something that settled the restless energy swirling inside him.

Eddie’s lips twitched in a small smile, like he knew exactly what was going on in Buck’s head. “You did,” he affirmed, moving to sit down beside Buck. Their thighs brushed, the contact sending a shiver through Buck that he didn’t bother to hide. “You’re always pushing yourself. But today… today was something else. You saved that kid, Buck. You went above and beyond.”

Buck’s chest tightened at the praise. He wasn’t used to hearing it—not in the way that Eddie said it, with such sincerity, such admiration. Buck had always been the guy who needed to prove himself, to push harder, to be better. But when Eddie said it like that, it felt like maybe, for once, he had done enough.

He shifted on the couch, heat crawling up the back of his neck. “It wasn’t… I just did what anyone would’ve done.”

Eddie shook his head, his smile softening into something more intimate. “No, Buck. Not everyone would’ve done that. Not everyone has what you have.”

There it was again—Eddie’s words sinking deep, reaching places inside Buck that felt raw and exposed. He had never really understood why compliments hit him so hard, why they left him feeling both vulnerable and seen in a way that was almost too much to handle. But with Eddie, it felt… good. More than good. It felt like being wrapped in something warm, something safe.

Buck’s breath hitched, and he glanced sideways at Eddie, the intensity between them growing thicker with each passing second. Eddie’s hand moved, fingers brushing lightly against Buck’s knee, and the contact was like a spark. A low hum of want thrummed through Buck’s body, and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the shiver that threatened to roll through him.

Eddie’s eyes darkened, just a little, as if he could sense the shift. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “You like hearing that, don’t you?”

The question sent a jolt through Buck. His gaze snapped to Eddie’s, wide-eyed and startled. He opened his mouth to deny it, to brush it off, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself nodding—just barely, just enough for Eddie to catch it.

Eddie’s smile widened, slow and knowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hand squeezing Buck’s knee. “I thought so.”

The air between them crackled, the weight of Eddie’s words settling over Buck like a blanket. Buck’s pulse quickened, his skin buzzing with a need he could barely contain. Eddie had always known him, seen him in ways no one else had. But this—this was different. This was Eddie knowing exactly how to unravel him, how to slip beneath his defenses and touch something deeper.

Buck’s voice was shaky when he spoke. “Eddie, I…”

Eddie leaned in, close enough that Buck could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. “You’re incredible, Buck,” he whispered, his hand sliding higher up Buck’s thigh, slow and deliberate. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. You never did.”

Buck’s heart was pounding now, the praise washing over him like a wave, pulling him under. He felt lightheaded, dizzy with it, with the way Eddie’s words seeped into his bones, leaving him aching and wanting.

“I—” Buck started, but Eddie’s fingers pressed gently against his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” Eddie murmured, his eyes burning into Buck’s. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me take care of you.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat, and he nodded again, his body surrendering to the gentle command. Eddie’s hand moved to cup the side of Buck’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek in a way that made Buck’s stomach flip. The tenderness in Eddie’s touch was almost overwhelming, the praise still ringing in Buck’s ears, filling the spaces inside him that had been hollow for so long.

“You’re so good, Buck,” Eddie whispered, his lips ghosting over the corner of Buck’s mouth. “So good for me.”

Buck couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped him, his body arching toward Eddie, desperate for more. The way Eddie spoke to him, the way he touched him—it was everything Buck had been craving, everything he hadn’t realized he needed until this moment.

Eddie’s lips finally pressed against his, slow and deliberate, a kiss that was as much a promise as it was a possession. Buck melted into it, his hands clutching at Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer, deeper, until the world outside them ceased to exist.

And in that moment, with Eddie’s praise still echoing in his mind, Buck felt whole. He felt seen. He felt loved.

[egesizizmir]

Ben onun Sıla'sı, kendimin gurbetiyim.

:)

[kaybedenlerkulubu10]

Ben huzur adamıyım, sen seversin sevmezsin ortam seversin sevmezsin bilmem, ben huzur insanıyım...

[poetry-shayari-kavita]

Adam and Eve, the world’s first sinners. when she bit the apple, he knew she was doomed. he bit it, not out of mindlessness, but because they were one. what would he do without her, anyway—

i don’t have to imagine the choice that Adam made.

i, too, have forsaken heaven to be with my love. what is heaven but the sound of your laugh?