#idk shitty poetry i guess

[musingsofadepressedgay]

I know I need to smooth my jagged edges, make them less sharp, grow in new ways

But sometimes I fantasize about finding someone whose broken pieces match up with mine like a puzzle, completing in an instant rather than needing to smooth myself into a shape that doesn't hurt to hold

I know it is nothing more than a fantasy

But sometimes my brain can't help but wonder

Are you the same broken as me

And if we are insane together will our broken halves connect, leaving us not quite whole but never alone again

[loafofryebread]

What if i was a dog that curled up at your feet at the end of each day in the hopes you would spare me a second of attention? What if my teeth were sharp and in one fell swoop i could tear your heart loose from where it sits delicately in your chest? What if i could mutilate you in any number of ways but i wont? What if my fur was matted with burs and patchy from scars yet i still lay my head on your lap like a child?

What if I was a dog that curled up at your feet every day hoping just begging for you to spare me a second thought? What if the door was scratched from all the times I spent filing my claws down on it? What if i rolled over to show you my stomach when you returned home? 'here! You can do whatever you wish to me and i wont fight back!'

What if I was a dog that curled up at your feet each day and ignored the itch under my skin to run and run and run? What if I was a wild creature who built myself a prison out of my own love? What if my blood curdled like milk in my complacency? What if I had to fight the urge to bite down whenever you peel back my lips to examine my teeth? What if I sat at the table like a good dog, chewing on the bones you left behind? (they're my bones, I will wittle down my own ribs till theyre naught but dust if you wish)

What if I was a dog that curled up at your feet at the end of each day because I could never bring myself to gorge myself on your lifeblood? What if I was a dog? what if I was your dog? would I be a good dog do you think? would I do it right?

[random-knowone]

on loving someone a thousand miles away

everywhere i go, i carry you with me

in my pocket, in my heart.

but soon, for once, you'll be

standing by my side

when times were good, you made me laugh

like no other could

when times were tough, you helped me through

like no other would

so many nights i've laid alone, dreaming of your embrace, your voice

such simple things turned mystical, by the oceans laid between us

we know almost everything about each other, except each other's scents, clothes, homes.

so many nights i've laid alone. dreaming of the day you'd be

side by side with me

[sirghostart]

New Years Eve Comic (tw for sui ideation)

i also think about possums but that's a different thing

the ending isn't supposed to like... represent anything, it's just true. maybe there's meaning in there somewhere.

(i know i could have ended it two pages early but a vaguely positive ending is good for my brain or something like that)

[poetryisforfools-suchasmyself]

Tigers die and leave their skin

This simple fact is known,

People die and leave their names

Carved above them into stone.

Tigers die and leave their skin;

A simple fact I'm told.

People die and leave their names,

And I'll leave only bone

[broke-on-books]

Non poetry fans/poets are crazy to me. Like wym you're writing down everything in prose? Like ALL THE TIME bro??? That's so many words......

[forflightlessbirds]

okay why does our artstyle change dependent on who's fronting. crazy

anyways headaches by carly cosgrove you will never not be famous to me

[muted-dreams]

the thoughts in my head begin to race, as soon as night falls.

music blasts, movies play, I consume all that I can.

yet I take nothing in; nothing but those words running lap after lap

I wish I was dead

[2af-afterdark]

He Who Was Called Mammon's Son - Day 1

Not a summary. Just random babbling about the event. I'm not saying anything official or even necessarily answering questions I bring up/pose. I just want to go off. Before I start... LOOK AT BABY MAMMON! He's so tiny! OMG! I cannot handle it!

Shall we start with the fact the Papa Mammon is fine as hell and is described like poetry? The man is beautiful and is so pure in his motives to protect and love his kingdom...

He's going to die. Sorry. But we all know he is going to be dead by the end of this event, right? This is the exact kind of event where they kill of a beloved parent in order to motivate the protagonist (Baby Mammon). They even evoked the Lion King by pulling that hilltop scene so Baby Mammon could understand the gravity of what he is about to inherit.

The difference is that Baby Mammon and Papa Mammon face their greed differently. They are both intrinsically led by the desire to protect and to have. Papa Mammon is mature enough to see the kingdom as his family and that he must keep it safe. Baby Mammon sees that Tartaros does not cover the entirety of Hell yet, so he must have more of it... so that he is able to protect more of Hell -- living and dead.

Even Papa Mammon recognizes Baby Mammon is greedier than he is in a way he he never could have imagined, making him the true king of Tartaros (which also means that kings are placeholders until the true one shows up).

*Side note: Are these technically names or titles? Papa Mammon is the king, but Baby Mammon hasn't gotten a name yet, I guess. He's just the Prince. Baby Bimet may not be Bimet either yet. I wonder if, in Tartaros, certains names are titles rather than birth names? Maybe that is true of multiple kingdoms. IDK because Amon was born with his name as far as I can tell, and he's the only devil we've seen before he became one of the 72. Well... Technically Leviathan and Orias too, but they were literally given numbers when they were prisoners of Heaven.

Baby Mammon is so adorable! He is a little puppy who needs extra care and attention because his body is so weak. However, this does raise the question of who is responsible for the underground lab in Tartaros. After all, I doubt Papa Mammon didn't know they were doing such experiments in his own land. The question is if he allowed it, ignored it, or... if it started after he was no longer around.

I wish, genuinely, that devils were able to distrust the way Older Bimet seems to. I can just feel how much heartache is about to happen because of Papa Mammon not sensing how malicious Metatron is. This is a clear example of double-speak. Metatron is making it clear that he shall kill Papa Mammon and take everything from him.

I think identifying that Metatron is (possibly) a former human is important. Humans can lie, deceive, and distrust like angels, but are also capable of acting within their own self-interests like devils. Metatron being a former human, not an angel created by God, would give him the drive, ability, and now power to covet and take for his own self-gain rather than invoking God's name. It also means we can't blame shitty programming for what he may or may not do like we can the other angels who were created with a one-track mind.

Valefor and Eligos are OLDER devils. They were clearly adults when Baby Mammon was still young. Guess that means we can add them to the list of devils who are definitely older than the kings (right next to Gusion).

[satosuguhastakenovermylife]

okay so. ten listens and many hours of desperately trying to like the album I concur that it is mid asf. the production by jack antonoff is lazy and most of the lyrics are badly written. there are some songs i like though but I've kinda given up on most of the album. also I really didn't like how this album was literally just made as clout for the tiktok swifties to go omg poetry omg she's so relatable and for them to overanalyze the lyrics and go hate on joe alwyn. also the glorification of the absolutely shitty guy matty is until things didn't end well with him. I've liked her music for like seven years now and this album was genuinely such a letdown. Although, I enjoyed the songs Aaron dessner produced. i honestly feel like this album is a vent made into a cash grab where she constantly doesn't realise that sometimes taylor fucking swift isn't always right. I've disliked her lately tbh because of a lot of shit like the carbon emissions, the ignorance when it comes to the Gaza genocide, and doing nothing to stop the threats Joe alwyn is getting just because of how in her songs it's hinted that his mental health is super bad and he didn't want to marry her so he's at fault and also not to forget defending that absolute dick matty healy. Liking her and her music for so long has like permanently wired my brain to always defend her and her actions but honestly I'm so done. I'm so conflicted right now just making this post criticising her (and it feels wrong because I do like her older music) but it can't be helped. I'm also really disappointed because she was someone I used to look up to as a kid. Idk I guess this is just my breaking point.

[musingsofadepressedgay]

My hands are coated in blood

And in sweet mockery of the lamb

It is my own

Because I refuse to give it up

I was told to give all my sins to christ

But without my mistakes who am I

If I gave it all away

My flesh and blood no longer my own

But rather something for others to feast upon

If I live my whole life in shame

For not being capable of constantly obeying

What will my reward be

A body more foreign than the one I gave away

They said he would make me whole

Something perfect

Something new

But I fear, that there will be nothing left

If all that is broken is replaced

Then what is left of me

I let myself grow like a dandelion through concrete

And if the cracks are smoothed away

What happens to the life

that clawed its way through them

I have never been like a forget me not

I am more stubborn than beautiful

And I don't belong in anybody's yard

So when it comes time to weed the garden

If I followed every step the best I could

Walked every treacherous turn of the straight and narrow

Would I recognize my form

Life has left me bruised and bloodied

But it has left me as me

I cannot say the same for the outstretched hand

Waiting to wipe my blood

And soul

Away

[perexcri]

there’s nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you - [byler week - day 5]

yeah so i thought this fit the secret identities thing until i wrote it and realized it uhh. isn’t quite that. so enjoy whatever this is i guess - lots of miscommunication and a fun set-up for potential enemies to lovers

also it’s my personal headcanon that Will is a music snob, so if you don’t like that then uh,,,,i guess skip this one idk

title from: wilson (expensive mistakes) by fall out boy

dedicated to: the listening party for fall out boy’s new album that i went to last week in a city an hour away from me; i came up with this stupid idea on the drive there! indie record store in [city redacted], you were very nice, and thank you for having a decent selection of poetry i could pick from :]

Don’t ask Will how this ended up being his job, because he honestly doesn’t know. One day, they had a meeting for the university’s queer artists’ zine where he was complaining about everyone’s responses to the new U2 album (yes, it sounds different from other U2 albums, but obviously if you look at the lyrical and metatextual themes of Achtung Baby, it’s still very much U2), and then BAM–suddenly he’s in charge of doing the cover art for the zine and writing music reviews.

Sure, he could probably turn it down, but nobody else will take the job.

Also, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t do it right, because, as much as he loves this group, their music tastes are…well…not everybody has an older brother like Jonathan Byers who makes sure they grow up with proper music opinions.

So, if anything, Will does this to keep the spirit of reviewing and recommending underground artists in New York City alive for the zine, and also because he doesn’t think anybody else could do it justice, no offense to them.

But Will is loathing this job for their upcoming edition. He’s sitting in that weird liminal time between class periods where people are in the chaotic throes of rushing around or throwing their notebooks open to prepare for the lecture; his elbows are pressed into the desk that’s just a little too small, and his head is in his hands. He’s staring down at the one submission he’s been putting off for precisely three semesters, because the president of the zine said it needed to be done before they moved on to new submissions, so could you please just lower your standards for one night and go listen to them play so you can write the damn review?

The Fellowship of the Ring, the submission card reads in faded pencil. Scratched under it in the slightly-fresher ink of the zine’s president’s pen, it reads: Thursday - The Purple Hall - 8 PM.

And, God, Will wishes this show was just gonna be a live reading of the Tolkein book. It would be so much better than what he knows it actually is.

The Fellowship of the Ring is a local, up-and-coming act in the underground venues of the greater New York City area that everybody loves because they sound like Nirvana and, you guessed it, throw out Tolkein references like they’re Led Zeppelin. They’re huge on college campuses, where students pass around live-recorded tapes of their supposedly-legendary performances all the time, gushing about how even the bass sounds, the peeling shrieks of guitars, the way the vocalist wavers between grumbles and ethereal, falsetto howls. They even gush about the lyrics and how they truly capture the experiences of Western youth in these first few years of the new decade: malaise, boredom, this sense that there is no great struggle for the future left for them, only an endless drowning in comfortable excess.

Will had even seen a girl with the band’s logo tattooed on her shoulder.

Which is…fine. He guesses.

If you like shitty music, that is.

See, that’s the fundamental problem here: Will likes doing these silly little reviews for live music around New York because half the time, the music is passably decent, and even if that doesn’t work, the lyrics can make up for it. There’s so much creativity in the air, and people are doing so much with it.

Not The Fellowship of the Ring, though.

Where everybody else sees innovation, Will sees reductivity; where everybody screams about the charm of the lyrics and the pop culture references they sneak in, Will sees a demeaning pandering to an audience. Every single time he has been subjected to the squawks and out-of-tune guitars of The Fellowship, he’s spent his time thinking he would be better off to save himself the time and just listen to Nirvana’s Nevermind for the millionth time, because that’s all The Fellowship’s trying to do, anyway, and at least then Will could listen to something good.

Yeah, Will hates The Fellowship of the Ring, and now he’s squeezing his temples so hard that the letters on the submission card are beginning to swim in his vision.

“Hey!”

Thankfully, Will is saved by his very friendly, incredibly good-looking neighbor in History of the American Constitution, Mike Wheeler.

“Hey!” he says, trying to gain back the energy that seeing The Fellowship’s submission card had unwittingly drained out of him.

And honestly, seeing that flash of Mike’s smile and how the fluorescents dance in his eyes, Will feels like he has enough energy to power the sun now, even if they are going to have to sit through yet another lecture about Article II–whatever the hell that means.

“What’s got you so down?” Mike asks, head tilted to the side, some of his hair tumbling into his eyes, and all Will wants to do is push it away–

But, no, he has to have a coherent conversation right now, so he shakes his head and tries his best to return Mike’s smile. “Oh, nothing…Just something for that zine I work on.”

“Oh, yeah!” Mike snaps his fingers, causing some of the buttons on his jacket to rattle together. He always wears a leather jacket no matter the weather or the rest of his attire, and today, paired with plaid pajama bottoms, held-together-by-duct-tape converse, and a baggy Care Bears shirt, it shouldn’t work, but in Will’s eyes, it does. “I think I saw one of those around! I wanted to grab a copy, but somebody else did before I could get to it.”

“I can bring you a copy of the next issue,” Will says, then, remembering the task at hand, groans and puts his head back in his hands. “That is, if I even survive it.”

“What, are they making you skip classes for it?”

“No, worse: they’re making me listen to a band I hate.”

Mike winces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.”

“Right?”

“Can’t you just, like…push it off?”

“I did. For three semesters.” The professor wanders in with a mumbled greeting and a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and Will lowers his voice in anticipation of the lecture beginning. “That’s why I have to do it now.”

“Maybe it would help if somebody went with you?”

Despite having flirted with each other mercilessly all semester during this one shared class of theirs, they haven’t hung out much outside of it, so to be faced with the possibility of something that could potentially be labeled as a date between them is shocking. For a moment, Will can forget about the future torment awaiting him Thursday evening at The Purple Hall’s listening stage, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, having somebody to talk to over the drone of the lazily-played guitars could make the evening slightly more bearable.

“Yeah,” Will finally says, a grin stretching across his face. “Of course. Yeah, that’d be awesome!”

Mike returns the look twofold, and one of his legs begins to bounce. “Awesome! When is it?”

As the lecture begins, Will resorts to a torn piece of notebook paper, like he’s a kid passing notes in class again to survive the boredom. He scribbles The Purple Hall - Thursday 7 PM, then hands it to Mike, who responds with a quizzical look at the paper, scratches something out, and hands it back to Will.

The Purple Hall - Thursday 7 PM 6?

Will shoots him a thumbs up, prays it wasn’t too awkward, and then folds the sheet of paper up and sticks it in his pocket.

And if he carries it around there for the rest of the week, then that’s his business alone.

---

The pros: this is one of Will’s favorite music venues, there’s several bands to look forward to tonight, and Mike seems wholly invested in the idea of this being a date, if him leaning closer and the playful hand on Will’s knee mean anything.

The cons: Will has to listen to the fucking Fellowship of the Ring in approximately ten minutes.

He’s able to put the thoughts off for the first hour. After all, The Fellowship isn’t set to perform until 8–he and Mike had met at 6 as planned, and Will has spent the first hour and a half trying to be blissfully unaware of the torturous fate awaiting him.

Even as his skin begins to crawl at the thought of having to hear those plucky, out-of-tune guitars and the lead singer screeching about the Gulf War under the guise of Star Wars references, he does feel a little settled. Mike’s fingers are surprisingly warm, and the alcohol they’ve been nursing makes his chest glow with warmth. It’s easier to laugh, to be focused solely on Mike and these wonderful, looping conversations they’ve found themselves ensnared in.

“This one’s good!” Mike half-shouts over the drum solo of the current act, consisting of just a drummer and a bassist crooning over their heady rhythms. They’re called the Jazz Squares, or something like that. Whatever.

At least they’re not The Fellowship.

“The drink or the band?” Will queries. His own head’s spinning with the beer he’s been sipping on for the better part of an hour, and he already feels lightheaded, because he’s a lightweight, and Mike’s got something to do with these pulses of courage thumping in his chest, right?

“Both!” Mike takes another long sip from his Jolly-Rancher-blue mixer. Will had asked him what was in it earlier, and all Mike had responded with was Coconut-something and a whole lot of rum!

They’ve talked about so much already–their families, their majors, their hobbies. Mike comes here a lot, he reveals, and he mentions that he plays guitar, too. He keeps it a playful secret when Will asks for more information, though: how long have you played? Do you write, too? Are you in a band, because I could put you in the zine if you wanted–

It’s a surpriseee, Mike had drawled in response, a stupid grin twisting his mouth as his fingers had vacated Will’s knee momentarily just to ruffle through Will’s hair.

As the Jazz Squares’ set finally dies down to some spotty applause (this is more of an alternative scene, after all, but a gig is a gig), Will lets out a groan, melodramatically knocking his forehead into the table, and finally drags out his notebook.

“What’s that for?” Mike asks, eyebrows high on his forehead.

“For that review I have to do,” Will grumbles.

“But isn’t that act on in, like, two hours?”

Will blinks a couple of times. He supposes he hadn’t actually told Mike which group he was here for, but he thought the fact that he originally proposed a meet-up time of 7 would have communicated enough that it was somewhere around then. “Um, no? I didn’t say anything, I guess, but I think they’re up next.”

Mike’s fingers begin to nervously tap on what remains of his electric blue potion. As his and Will’s gazes snag together for several heady seconds, he purses his lips, then throws back the rest of his drink, swallowing the last of it in just a couple of gulps.

Will slowly draws his notebook out, flipping to the page he had specifically marked The Fellowship of the Ring with a disheartened, frighteningly life-like frowny face scrawled next to it. “Is something wrong?”

Mike drags his wrist across his mouth, smearing any remaining drops of blue onto his leather jacket’s sleeve. “So this band you hate that you have to review…It’s The Fellowship of the Ring?”

“Yeah.” Will taps the top of his paper. “I didn’t say anything, but…Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Um.”

Will quirks an eyebrow up. “I mean, do you like them? That’s fine, of course, I mean–people have different tastes and what-not. I’d just have to seriously question your judgment in all matters music-related, I guess.”

“Um,” Mike repeats, fingers now tapping a dangerously fast staccato against their bartop table. It makes the remaining beer in Will’s bottle slosh around. “Um…This is bad.”

“What? Are you a super fan or something?” Thanks to the alcohol, Will feels bold enough to scrunch his nose up with disgust. “I mean, fine, whatever. But seriously, if you want a second date, I’m gonna take you to a record store so you can hear some actually decent music. If you’re impressed by that fucking band’s reductive bullshit, you’ll be positively amazed by a group like The Clash or Smashing Pumpkins or–hell, even fucking U2–”

“Excuse me!” the MC calls over the mic; when the feedback whines, he takes a second to tap at the mic, then announces: “Calling everyone’s favorite up-and-coming group, The Fellowship of the Ring, for soundcheck–their set starts in five!”

The club erupts into raucous cheers. Will has to hide the involuntary groan of annoyance he lets out behind his hand.

Mike casts a nervous glance at Will, then pushes his chair out and looks like he’s going to walk away, the buttons on his jacket clicking together. He nearly trips over the saggy laces of his converse, and through the tears in his jeans, he almost looks like he’s shaking.

“Hey, wait!” Will says, reaching forward and grasping Mike’s wrist. It makes the other guy stop, a blush creeping up into his cheeks, and Will tries to push down his distaste for the band and lets out a sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry–I was being stupid. It’s just a band, after all. If you like them, that’s fine, and I will…” he swallows here, and it hurts, taking on this insurmountable task of trying to push his music-snob’s pride down. “I won’t make fun of you for it. I promise.”

Mike blinks a couple of times before a reassuring grin overtakes his features. “Uh…Nope. That’s okay, Will. It’s not for everyone. I wasn’t like…trying to run out on you or anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m still gonna be here.”

“Then why are you getting up?”

Mike points at the stage, where a drummer and bassist are setting up their instruments, their eyes scanning the room in search of their infamous guitarist and singer. “Didn’t you hear? We have soundcheck. The set starts in five.”

Will slowly nods. “Yeah. Then the next act starts, and I have to scratch down whatever notes I can think of for them, and then we can get back to our date.”

Mike stares at him for several seconds.

And then it all catches up with Will.

“Oh, shit–”

Mike’s grin turns into something playful, his eyebrows shooting up beneath his bangs. “Can’t wait to read your official review of my fucking band’s reductive bullshit!” he says with a two-fingered salute, then spins around to make his way to the stage. He’s bathed in the dim lighting of the stage, hunching over his guitar the second he straps it around his chest, and Will wonders how somebody who was brave enough to wander around in a leather jacket and a fucking Care Bears shirt and look that good could be involved in a band that’s just–

This bad, Will finishes for himself as Mike strums his first cord, its electricity shaking the walls of the club, and he begins yet another signature Fellowship song that’s nothing more than various John Hughes and horror movie quotes juxtaposed over warring drums and guitars.

Of course Will would be stupid enough to fall for the lead singer of his most-hated band in the greater New York City area.

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Alright, I wanna ramble about The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. Just list some things I love about it because it ABSOLUTELY rocketed me back into the Sonic fandom, even if it ends up being temporary. All spoilers will be under a read more cut, but I urge you to play it if you haven't, it's super fun. Although that might just be my bias towards point and click visual novels and murder mysteries talking

I think my favorite thing in The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog is how much of a fucking DORK Espio is. Shitty poetry (sorry bud), getting super committed to the bit to the point of walking around the library with a piece of paper and a quill, his outfit matching his shoes, I love him. Also, him speedreading a book just to spoil the end for Knuckles is fucking hilarious and I love it. He also managed to get tricked by Eggman into drugging Sonic? Good job on tricking the most logical member of Team Chaotix, Eggman, lmao.

THE ART IS GORGEOUS??? It's so expressive and pretty?? I also like the harsher black shadows on the characters.

Vector gets so protective of Espio that you can choose to accuse him of Sonic's murder JUST because of how protective he gets. Honestly I did get suspicious of Vector because of it and considered accusing him because of it but decided against it.

Tails has read the Sherlock Holmes stories. Every time he called me "my dear Jayce" all I could think of was Sherlock Holmes.

"Eggman's gotten a lot more creative lately, don't you think?" "I try not to!" is basically my feelings towards the train being a Badnik lmao.

Knuckles sticking with a cowboy accent for all of like 5 minutes. Never change, Knuckles. Never change.

Shadow looks like a Starbucks employee. What was Amy's costume guide? I thought Shadow was supposed to be a LOCKSMITH?

How did Amy invite Blaze?

Speaking of Blaze, I like the implication that she only helped Rouge steal that weird Chao egg because of her lore card. "I normally wouldn't steal but my lore card says otherwise, so I guess I'm stealing!!!"

Omochao being wanted for MEDICAL MALPRACTICE ASJDKJDGFJADGF

I kinda wish Silver had shown up, because I think we all know he couldn't lie if his life depended on it (Espio even tells Silver he's a bad liar in Future Growth) so that would've been absolutely hilarious in a murder mystery setting. It also would've been fitting considering Silver's current voice actor is Bryce Papenbrook, who worked on Danganronpa, and I've seen multiple people compare The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog to Danganronpa.

I also feel like it would've been hilarious to see Espio try to serenade Silver with his shitty poetry, even if it was in a platonic way. Idk. Just would've been funny lol.

[ye-olde-trojan-horse]

Do you write poetry?

a) define poetry… sort of? maybe? I write words (usually just for myself in this context). does that count? idk?

b) example:

if my blood runs red,

then why do I feel

so cold?

back to a) I guess I do in some way - I call it my shitty, sad boi poetry.

[poetryisforfools-suchasmyself]

Do you remember what it means to be human?

Some say humans are violent, cruel, inherently evil, selfish.

Others say humans are kind. They are good, they love and live and dream.

I can't help but feel that the second is the part that will save me. In my darkest hour, I do not forget there are people who care, even if it is silent.

There is a graveyard near my home. The headstones are simple, worn away into nothing, weeds poking up from the earth. It is overgrown, the people who were buried and the people who buried them long gone.

Someone cuts the grass. Someone leaves flowers.

That someone, the flower person, never met the spirits that reside there. The one who cuts the grass cannot read the headstones, but mows carefully around them regardless.

What is more human than that? What is more human that leaving flowers on the grave of a stranger, than helping small creatures cross the street, than remembering someone you never knew the name of and hoping against hope they are alright?

Being human means loving, intentional or accidental. That is something I know in my soul to be true.

We love because we are human. Please don't forget that.

[pacifymebby]

Do you have any fave LGBTQ+ literature, tv, movies, content creators?

Okay so I'm still trying really hard to find queer books that I like because beyond Allen Ginsburg in college we weren't taught any LGBTQ+ authors/poets (except Carol Ann Duffy but the only thing I'd recommend about her work is to stay away because I hate it haha)(I probably hate it because of school tbh, sorry Carol) so anyway yeah, when it comes to this I've had to do all the searching myself and I don't really know how well I've done.

But for books:

🍂 Orlando / Virginia Woolf

I kind of can't believe Virginia Woolf wasn't on my other recommendations because The Waves is one of my favourite books (again I think you have to have a lot of patience but it is beautiful) and this one is brilliant too. A man wakes up in a woman's body and gender roles are revealed to be a little bit silly.

🍂 Thérèse and Isabelle / Violet Leduc

Erotic novella about two girls at boarding school, low-key spoke to me as a bi girl who kind of started realising her bisexuality when exploring sexuality was sort of thrust upon me by female friends at school I guess. It's just a good example of feminine sexuality and desire written by someone who knows.

🍂 Chelsea Girls / Eileen Myles

I'm very into Eileen Myles as a poet and these stories are so so so so so fucking good too!!!!

🍂 In The Dream House / Carmen María Machado

I got into this because it's what Google recs when you finish The Dangers of Smoking in Bed / Mariana Enriquez and honestly, I didn't enjoy it as much but it was still amazing. It's gothic horror af but also a really important work on abusive relationships within the queer community which the author has personal experience of and thinks isn't spoken about enough. Its really haunting, did fuck me up a bit but ultimately in a good way. But be careful because it does chronical abuse and that can be upsetting.

🍂 On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous/ Ocean Vuong

Another one where I love their poetry and think they can do no wrong tbh, I haven't finished this yet (I keep getting distracted but don't be put off by that I'm just really easily distracted!!) And I think it's wonderful idk. It's also written in quite a cool style which is always a bonus I find.

🍂 Our Wives Under the Sea / Julia Armfield

I actually only read this because I read an essay on the Exorcist and body horror by the author where she talks about her experience with having a cyst that had to be operated on twice. The essay was so stunning that I was like damn, gonna have to read that book everyone's talking about now and bestie, was worth it. The books class also.

🍂 Sister Outsider / Audre Lorde

I just think everyone should read Audre Lorde, Audre Lorde should have been on the curriculum instead of endless Simon Armitage idk. I read this and Your Silence Will Not Protect You as a 19 year old and they changed the course of my life idk.

🍂 Communion / bell hookes

Read this and broke up with my shitty ex boyfriend. It's not entirely about lesbianism but more kind of, love in general, platonic, romantic, what it really means to love. She talks about the feminist choice to choose lesbianism which was a phenomenon in the 70s and also discusses a lot to do with how misogyny impacts womens ability to love and be loved. It was a really important read for me, made all the more important because when I picked up the book my boyfriend ripped into her name and tried to be like lol what would you read her for...and then I read it and was like oh HE'S the problem.

Poetry:

🐇Howl / Allen Ginsburg

I know he's problematic but for me Howl was the prototype, the first massive poem I read and loved as an adult, the first one where language really sounded musical to me, the first poem I heard that Hurt. If you can you should listen to the YouTube of him reading it in San Francisco,that's amazing.

I also really like A Supermarket in California.

🐇 Sappho

Just all of it I guess, I think we're all eventually pushed towards Sappho and for good reason.

🐇Emily Dickinson

Read her letters to Sue, Open Me Carefully. I read these one summer between school years and I think they changed me. Her poetry in general is wonderful, some of it occasionally comes off as very old fashioned (shock horror our girl was born in the 1800s) but there's much to savour there. Also apparently there's a TV series about her life on Apple TV, I don't have Apple TV though so I haven't seen it.

As for TV and movies I don't think I have anything at all. I don't watch a lot of TV and I mostly only watch the same 5 old man movies on repeat. I think books have always been my thing, I can concentrate on reading in a way I can't concentrate on TV and also just the fact you can put your book in your pocket and get it out on the bus, in the staff room, at school, at the pub when you're waiting for your pals etc... I was always a headphones and books gal so I don't really have any recs for TV. Sorry :/

EDIT: Kill Your Darlings!!!! As in the movie, if you're into the beats you should watch it, it's very good and a real insight into what was in reality a pretty nasty little scene.