I
wanted to write this book in a weekend
But already two weekends have happened
Since I began
Living up to my standards of failure
I wonder how many thoughts
Of suicide I’ve had
You’d think such a mountain
Would be enough to crush
My ribs down into my lungs like
Needles popping balloons
Because the party is over
But NOPE!
Here I am, baby,
I hate
myself & want to die, I hate
myself & want to die
Are the words I keep seeing
On the T-shirt waving
Across the sky of my brain
Like a dark
Memorial flag my father
Laced my dreams
Last night with the flash
Of his chemical smile
His walk as King
Of everything best
So now I judge men
By the way they move in public
How many people they draw
To them like magnets
Never mind the dark
Corners of the home
I’m used to curling up
Into something so small
My father could flick me
Across the room like a smoked
Cigarette &
Who notices
The absence
Of a cigarette
If I light a cigarette
And stick it in my ear do you think
I could smoke my father out
Do you think that would make me
Hate myself more
Or less? Sometimes I don’t
Hate myself so much
Friday night I ate sushi
On a rooftop in the city
Among other people
And thought I’d like
To be like them
Someday
The person sitting
Across
From another
Person
I want to be the light
That reflects off your teeth
When you laugh
And wonder if I’m ridiculous
For wanting to affect
Your existence
So positively
For expecting
My tongue
To be able to mouth
Anything other
Than ash
I want to stop thinking about rape I want to stop having been raped I want my friends to stop having been raped I am wanting on the behalf of millions of people Which might be why I wake up With an anvil hooked in each of my shoulders Telling me to lie the fuck down What the fuck is wrong with you Thinking you matter enough To even think about standing upright A vertical spine is useless to him And these are useless things to think about Which goes well with my useless body Although I heard that every six months Your skin cells completely regenerate Meaning that every inch of me is pure again If we want to be technical about it If we want to try to attempt some comfort Like how the billions of people on Earth Make the number of people I’ve fucked Such a small percentage It might as well be zero I might as well be a virgin Or at least socially construct myself as one Which feels like some liberal hippie bullshit But I’m out of alcohol and tired of living So I make up little stories About flowers beneath pillows And sometimes hump pillows While making myself think about clouds
read more at Drunk in a Midnight Choir
I like this
I like that
What I like most
Is thinking about
What life
Could be like
If I hadn’t
Been raped
I know I said that
Already
I just
Really like it
A lot
You know
It’s so
Me
I bleach my hair and dream
In shades of pink
Let my tongue curl
Against silk curtains
In a bedroom too beautiful
To be loved inside of
I ask people to stop thinking
Of me as a woman
Tilt my jaw upwards
Press my breasts flat
Against my chest
Like a bad dream
I crawl naked across
The floor of my mind
Mouth the fluid
In my spine
And call it power
“We name names anonymously and vaguely with supposed “guerrilla” tactics and without the law’s official permission because, despite being boot-stomped from all angles, we feel a desperate need to save others from anonymous rapists.
We use “guerrilla” tactics because we have righteous anger and despair, and if we do not express it or process it somehow, we risk mental, emotional, and spiritual toxicity and death through substance abuse, eating disorders, panic disorders and PTSD, self-harm, general deterioration of quality of life, and/or suicide. We have decided, against all evidence, that it matters if we live.”
ABOUT: Zoo Cake Press is an independent publishing collective dedicated to the production of small run and limited edition books. Our mission is to promote underrepresented voices in literature in art.
Current Submissions: Zoo Cake Press wants your chapbook + length manuscripts (limit 60 pages). Please be mindful that we seek to promote underrepresented voices in literature in art. We want your poetry, genre bending, and/or non-traditional texts. Send your best to [email protected]. Readers will consist of authors who have been published with Zoo Cake in the past. Spread the word. We’re hoping to choose 2-5 authors. Submissions close: June 10th!
WE’RE HUNGRY!!!
RAWR!!
Submissions & Inquiries: [email protected]
“When police identify crimes against the city, state, or law, rather than against an affronted person — the so-called victimless crimes of illicit possession, unlicensed work, or unlicensed sale — they perform the essential police function of distributing crime. The legislature declares certain objects and unlicensed commerce illegal; the police then go and distribute these violations. Street drugs are made illegal (prescription drugs are fine), hidden and unlicensed weapons are illegal (carried by people on unsafe streets, which is to say the poor), flawed cars are illegal (busted taillight, broken muffler, unpaid insurance). Thus police spend a large part of their time distributing crime to the sorts of people who seem likely to be criminals — the poor and marginal — and the prediction is prophetic: these people turn out to be criminals as soon as they are stopped and forced to turn out the contents of their pockets or glove boxes. Leave them alone, and most would never be “criminal” at all. The majority of violations technically listed in the tables of the law are of no interest to uniformed police. People who break laws in business are unlikely to be detected or sought out, and when their violations are disclosed — leading to the awkwardness of having to reach a settlement — they are dealt with by regulatory agencies, guilds, or accrediting bodies, and at the far extreme by civil-court proceedings and court-mandated money exchanges. Very rarely are police or criminal justice brought in.”
“White people in North America live in a social environment that protects and insulates
them from race-based stress. This insulated environment of racial protection
builds white expectations for racial comfort while at the same time lowering
the ability to tolerate racial stress, leading to what I refer to as White Fragility.
White Fragility is a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes
intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves. These moves include
the outward display of emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and behaviors such
as argumentation, silence, and leaving the stress-inducing situation. These behaviors,
in turn, function to reinstate white racial equilibrium.”