exmotranny

[exmotranny]

god, i'm so desperate for it, the warmth. when i vomit–low buzzing in my throat, like tv static. i remember being a kid playing games. i remember when interlocking pinkies was enough. now nothing is ever enough. i want to crawl inside you. will your beating heart heal mine? i am standing under direct sunlight. my eyes meet yours. why is it so fucking cold in here? we burn through everything we have to keep the fire going. we sit in the car with the engine running. i ran out of gas. look at me, please; swallow me whole, please. i can't bear to live and still be cold. my chest hurts, oh my god. please kill me. please eat me alive. i need to feel something. i swear it’s not close enough. i could be inside your ribcage and still not close enough. shit. i think i'm dying. can you still embrace a corpse? if you kiss me harder, maybe we can shock my still form into feeling something like living again.

#mine #poetry #spilled ink #wasnt gonna post this one but my friend told me to lol

[exmotranny]

hey. i think it’s okay. i think i'm gonna stay here, just for a little longer. they haven’t burned me yet–why are you scared? yes, i know they burned you, but, like, you were always in the way. i can leave whenever i feel like it. you know, i bet the flames don’t even feel that bad. you know, i think you should give it another chance. you know, i don't think it's that bad. come on in. the water’s fine. we’re saving you.

now you're drowning? wasn't fire the problem? we were cold and now we are thirsty, and you blame us for trying to be comfortable. why do you always make things inconvenient? don’t you love us? don’t you love it here? hey, i think you should try harder. hey, i'm sick of making things convenient for you. hey, why do you always try to leave? hey. get out of your comfort zone, it’ll be worth it. hey, if you hate me, just say so. god loves you.

#vent #mine #exmormon #srry for typos +doesnt make sense #it is. 1 am

[exmotranny]

Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run

[exmotranny]

they all see me

and i see them

yet how can they see me

if i cannot find myself?

when they say they love me

do they understand

that i am a reflection

if what i think a person should look like?

i can see what they say

but trying to picture it for myself

all i can see is a blank slate

what would i do if the glass disappeared?

Aphantasia could describe it

only physically

the knowledge that there’s a person there

but unable to reach

unable to visualized

only perceived by an outside force

i wish someone could explain how they saw me

yet

i don’t think i could accept it

how could they know who i am when i don’t

sometimes i don’t want to know

because i’m scared

of what lies within

something so hideous it won’t show itself

sometimes i want to know

because i’m scared

of what i’m missing out on

something so pure my sinful eyes will never get to see

sometimes i wish i didn’t worry

because i’m scared

that i’m the only one

the only one who doesn’t know who they are

but

does anyone really know?

i mean if you just ask someone to describe themselves

they only talk skin deep

simple things

likes and dislikes

hobby’s and jobs

music taste and talents

but it’s only skin deep

who are you?

what was your childhood like?

what made you the person you are today?

are you awake?

it’s only skin deep isn’t it

yet that’s all we’ll ever see

all we’ll ever know

all i’ve ever known

it takes more than question to find out

who we are beyond skin

beyond flesh

beyond bones and blood

it takes love and trust

i’ve never truly understood

i don’t think i ever will

but i’ll try to see

look beyond the reflections

look beyond skin

look beyond bone and blood

beyond the things others see

i’ll see who i am

by truly devoting to myself

by taking the time to understand who i am

and taking the time to see myself

it will take time

it matters to me

how could i live in this world like it’s a stage,

when i don’t even know if i like going to plays

then i can see myself

for how they see me

when they ask who i am

i can answer honestly

instead of grasping at straws

hoping to find something humanly

[exmotranny]

you smoke

and burn you life away

with simple little sticks of

white and yellow

it burns in my eyes

in my mouth

in my lunges

and in my stomach

you say it calms you but it upsets me

it harms me

you say it relaxes you but it harms me

it upsets me

i couldn’t have the heart

the heart to tell you

how much it pains me

to see you sell your soul

to the big company’s

to the hospital

i couldn’t have the heart

to tell you that i don’t want to be around you

you are the reason kids ask me if i smoke

you are the reason i have to wash my clothing so often

you are the reason i’d rather deal with my mother than choke myself

i’ve seen you try to quit

but every time

every single time

you get mean

and i expect that

but i can’t

i can’t bear to see you like that

i’ve seen you try to quit

but every time

every single time

you say your getting better

and i expect it

but i can’t

i cant bear to see you like that

all bummed out and exhausted

ready to start again

aching to light a single one

“just one” you say

yet you could smoke a whole pack

every single time you smoke a whole pack

you blame it on everyone else

you can’t take responsibility

so i will

i’ll be responsible when you pass

i’ll be responsible when she passes

i’ll be the one to take the blame

when people try to reason

i’ll be the one to take the blame

when no one can believe your gone

i will do it

because you can’t

you say she is the reason you smoke

you say work is the reason you smoke

you say stress is the reason you smoke

you say weather is the reason you smoke

yet the one holding the lighter is you

you are only responsible for yourself

you are the one who buys them

you say we’re going through finance problems

yet you burn through them like 70$ isn’t a problem

you act like you aren’t a strain

it burns in my eyes

in my mouth

in my lunges

and in my stomach

and you’ll only know that when i’m dead

[exmotranny]

there’s something uniquely fucked up about the way christianity actively encourages martyrdom.

both judaism and islam do not encourage their followers to be honest about being a member of the faith if it puts their lives at risk. the latter religion even has a word for it— taqiyyah.

the christian view on martyrdom claims that followers cannot “actively seek out” dying for the faith. but, because of the rewards christianity promises to martyrs (i.e. guaranteed access to literal heaven) there is always a subliminal push towards getting yourself killed.

not to mention, it’s a core tenet of christianity to not deny christ, even if you’re at risk of harm (peter denying christ three times the night before the crucifixion, etc.)

the damage these teachings can cause vary due to circumstance. in countries like the united states, it means children being told they need to say “yes” if a shooter puts a gun to their head and asks them “are you christian?”. in countries like libya, it means oppressed people being pushed to put their lives on the line because they feel like they’re betraying the faith otherwise.

at it’s worst, christian martyrdom encourages groups of people—living under forces that are actively oppressing them— to sacrifice their lives to make a point. if they don’t, they risk the salvation of their souls.

[exmotranny]

are you in love with me?

your knee on my stomach, your fist raised.

oh, god. Yes.

hot sweat and sweet honeydew.

iron.

your fist kisses me. and again. i love you. are you in love with me?

i pull you in: hands wrapped around your waist. i want you to know i love you.

you pull me in: hands wrapped around my neck. i hope it bruises.

you're a wildfire. burn me out; ash and rubble. you taste like oil. please light me aflame.

#mine #poetry #spilled ink #id say what this is really about but you guys arent ready for it

[exmotranny]

listen. our bodies were always going to destroy us. we were always going to shrivel up and become ugly, become wretched little things. we were always going to become uncomfortable: pained. we were doomed to be this way but in the firelight your twisted face still shines. can these forms still find connection. can our gnarled hands hold each other.

listen. i know you're scared of getting old and you're angry that it's happening so soon. but can we still slow dance with our canes in the way.

listen. i just think that no one looks at a star and sees the parts of it that are twisted, millions of years old. i think we all just see the glow.

#mine #poetry #spilled ink #ummmmmmmh yea. another thing ive had half finished in my drafts 4ever

[exmotranny]

hey man. yeah i heard god didn't accept your offering. yeah that sucks dude. you'll get over it right? you'll be fine man. you always have next time dude. maybe you should ask your brother for help, god seems to like him just fine y'know.

[exmotranny]

christ in gethsemane, heinrich hoffman, 1886 / in corolla, the mountain goats

id: an oil painting of jesus, shown as a white man with long brown hair and a beard, kneeling with his arms resting on a rock and looking upwards, there is a gold halo around his head and text over the image in white says “I tried to summon up a little prayer as I went under, it was the best that I could do” end id.

[exmotranny]

dostoyevsky // nicola yoon // ada limón // john steinbeck // avainblue // sylvia plath

[exmotranny]

hello exmo tumblr

better image of the bingo if anyone wants it

#it's that time of year again

[exmotranny]

his eyes are like stars

i’ve looked at them many times before

yet each time

i’m more amazed

each time

i want to stare longer

each time

i wish i could fall asleep looking at them twinkle

his lips are like poetry

i’ve read it many times before

yet each time

my heart flutters

each time

i crave more

each time

i want to read further into the lines

his shoulders are like mountains

i’ve rested my head many times before

yet each time

i’m more comforted

each time

i’m more at home

each time

im more safe than i thought i could ever be

his chest is like a soft meadow

i’ve laid here many times before

yet each time-

each time matters so much

but

it will never matter as much

as next time

the chance at a future

the chance at

a life of

twinkling eyes

a life of

lips like poetry

a life of

shoulders like mountains

and chests like meadows

i can’t wait to have that

(god i love this boy someone put me out of my misery)

#hey psst look at my friends poetry

[exmotranny]

another transphobic hate crime in my fucking state. im so tired

#vent

[exmotranny]

Two decades in the mormon church inform my work, but it was kicked off when I read about brigham young and his militia’s attempt to exterminate the Timpanogos people, and the fact that I had to go looking for this information to learn about it. The mormon church was built on mass murder, and I was out of the church for ten years before I even read the name of the people that were slaughtered.

Everyone should know this. Exmos, mormons, and nevermos alike. The church deserves the full weight of this. The Timpanogos people deserve their land back, they deserve every dollar that has gone into building lavish, white and delightsome temples and malls. But the church won’t even acknowledge that the violence happened, much less drop a single dollar on its victims.

So, in what small way one poor, disabled exmo can, I’m going to make them.

All my religious materials will be stolen from them and used to benefit the people they harmed in some way - no one who sees my art will do so without reading the name Timpanogos and what brigham young did. Any money I make from this effort will be donated to them.

I want to hold up a mirror to the church and invite members to consider why the reflection is frightening to them. I want to empower exmos, pimos, and anyone who opposes the church (and make them laugh). I want to embody the fact that Korihor represents a fantasy that will never come true: mormons never having to be asked to think about what they do or what they’re told again.

I’m Korihor unmuted, and I’m gonna fuck your shit up.

Read about/donate to the Timpanogos tribe, for whom brigham young sent out an “extermination order”

LandBack

[exmotranny]

#HAPPY EASTER 🔥🔥🔥🔥

[exmotranny]

A LETTER TO THE MAN WHO I SHOT 3 DAYS AGO BACK WEST

(in everything i see you.)

i think a woman is curled up in the dirt, sobbing, (and for a moment i think it is the woman i saw in the photo in your locket before i pawned it off) and for a moment i think she has a rifle next to her (to avenge her sweetheart's death).

i approach closer, hand on holster

ready for more innocent blood to be spilt

(i close my eyes and see you)

but the woman is a pile of hay

and the rifle a plank of wood

and the knot in my throat escapes

(in the form of violent sobs)

when did i become weak?

i think it was the night i shot you (no sleep)

or the morning after when my horse seemed not to trust me anymore

or that evening when my hand shook trying to lift my flask

(i cannot stop seeing your corpse in my mind)

i dreamt of myself holding a rifle to my brother and pulling the trigger (he is about the same age as you)

and then i dreamt of turning that weapon onto myself

(my head now pink confetti)

#mine #poetry #spilled ink #cowboys #idk if this one makes sense but it's been in the drafts for months now so im posting it