bedtime rituals

the moon is wide awake
the stars are playing hide n’ seek
with me,
I’m hiding
under a roof, behind a pair of windows
in the warm shadows of my sheets.
Before my hollow eyelids,
flashes of the day’s mistakes
crowd around my mind—
why did she look at me like that?
how is it that we drifted this far apart?
is it a crime to be a human?
am I too strange?
am I good enough?
who am I?—
My heart thumps on, its song resonating
louder and louder,
questioning synapses
racing into a dark tunnel
as my mind trembles an inch closer to insanity.
At this rate,
I’m not sure that
the stars will ever
find me.

I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone - if possible - Jew, Gentile - black man - white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness - not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful…”

-Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator. 

Prescription Pills for Broken Hearts

Side effects include:
A weak, irregular pulse, invisible veins,
A case of pink eye, trembling fingers,
The numbing of the mouth, contracting chest muscles,
A swollen ego, labored breathing,
A dry tongue, strong craving for alcohol,
The desire to erase yourself, questioning synapses,
heavy drowsiness—

After a month or two,
Pulse will return to normal, veins visible,
eyes will no longer be red or teary, fingers still,
mouth will regain feeling, heart won’t hurt anymore,
breathing will be easy, alcohol will disgust your tongue
rebirth of the mind, energy restored—
A cleansed palate, a reason to get out of bed.


I’ve realized my problem. The guys of my race, Asians, prefer girls who conform and aren’t very rebellious. And so I’ve avoided liking or being attracted to Asian guys. I’m not saying that they’re not good enough for me; i’m saying that I don’t fit their expectations. You could say I’m generalizing, but what choice do I have when that’s all I’ve been exposed to? Since I’ve avoided Asian guys for my sake, I’ve moved onto other races. However, here’s the main point: they prefer the same kind of girls. Where does that leave me? Asian boys who prefer non-Asians with gorgeous bodies leave me nowhere to go either. Same goes for non-Asians who want a i’mport-model type of Asian. Sigh. I’m stuck in this between and the walls are closing up fast. There’s nowhere to go. 



What if verbal abuse left the same scars as physical abuse? Would it be taken more seriously? That’s what photographer Richard Johnson hopes to accomplish with his new photo project, “Weapons of Choice.”

The series uses a makeup artist to put bruises and scars on photo subjects. Embedded in these violent marks are some hateful words typically associated with abuse, such as “Stupid,” “Dumb,” “Trash” and others that are much, much worse.

What if verbal abuse left the same scars as physical abuse

I’ve been waiting for a post like this.

What You Need — The Weeknd

The Weeknd → What You Need

I just want to take you there
He don’t got to know where
Does he touch you here like this?
Let me take the friction from your lips


I awoke with the heart ripe with poetry.

"My mother doesn’t like tattoos. She says art belongs on a wall. Well I say no one, not even my mother gets to tell me I can’t be a masterpiece."
— Hannah Snowdon (via beautifult0me)
"God called me Fish Heart. Lily Mouth. I was an evening sort of girl. He liked me better ripped up, bar bathrooms, bar peanuts, skip the small talk. We’re both Adam. We’re both Eve. In the mornings, swallowing bait, swallowing nails, pulling apart the microwave, two forks and an empty socket. Baby, there is always a limit. Hours spent rubbing my belly, waiting for watermelon trees, or orange bushes, or flowers heavy with green apples. And now, this is what I can dissect: his fingers in the gut of the fish, his fingers in the core of the flower, always pulling. Like it wasn’t enough to feel, like He had to see, to know."