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Ritroverò la carne delle tue labbra a baciarmi strati di pelle che ho messo su in questi anni aspettandoti.

Senza un preciso tempo il ritmo dei nostri corpi nudi emetterà vibrazioni tali che confonderanno lo spazio e scomporranno il vuoto. Ricomponendo il nostro universo…

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i wanna say something, its interesting to me that President Clinton has repeatedly felt the need to apologize for his Neo Liberal Policies, and each time he does, he sort of stammers, seems conflicted guilt ridden, and generally honest. now you juxtapose that with President Obama, or Joe Biden, or his wife Hillary and there’s none if that, call me crazy even though I think I’m onto something, but I think it may have to do with his Sexual Appetite. I’ve come to realize that if we are to have leaders, then analyhsing the psychology behind their Sexual proclivities is important because it shows their true character, and I think because President Clinton loves pussy so much, he has a clear sense of shit, which also reminds me, one of my boys once told me “ Pussy Clears your mind up” and when looking at President Obama or Hillary, its clear they’re most likely Asexuals, and you can’t trust anyone who is an Asexual because they’ve taken themselves out of the naturalness of life, look how unemotional and non involved President Obama is, dude is a secret Asexual, I get no Sexual vibe from him at all, which is interesting, because usually us men of color we love sex. I think this is also what doomed that woman in New York that actress, no one was gonna vote for some upper class Lesbian, just looking at her I knew that as she had no ENERGY to her, what authentic LGBT person you now doesn’t have energy ?  people weren’t going to vote for some upper class liberal lesbian, because they essentially could tell she was fake, that her lesbianism was a sham, she ain’t authentically that way, she just hopping on the bandwagon to be fake, now I’ll tell you this, if she would’ve came to her race, with some BLACK DICK she would’ve won, why you may ask ? because people would’ve been like damn she got a brotha with her ? ok I’ll vote for her, BLACK DICK would’ve humanized her, look at that other real Lesbian from New York that AOC endorsed that Latina, when I first saw her, my first thoughts were this BITCH got ENERGY she’s gonna win, just how she carried herself, you could tell although she was a dyke, the bitch was REAL, and you know what ended up happening to her, it was so clear to the DNC that she was gonna win, that they committed fraud to prevent her from winning would you imagine that ? 

but i’m telling you SEX is important, and people on a subconscious level understand that, when it comes to leaders, choose people who love SEX, who have healthy SEX LIVES, because SEX shows someone’s love for humanity, and as my female mentor once said, its also procreation, who can create children to move us forward ? 

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if i looked through your window tonight / i wonder who i’d see sitting on your couch / occupying the same space my body used to / see the casual intimacy / you bringing her a glass of water, unprompted / her hands trace circles on your skin like mine did / the warm yellow light in your living a room a spot light illuminating the love story i used to star in / but it’s not mine anymore /

i’d stand under the street light outside your house for a moment too long / i think i’d miss you again / i think i’d maybe love you still / i’d think many things and say nothing / so i’d let the night end and walk the miles back home /

i know i won’t get to come back again / i’m still learning how to be okay with that.

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it won’t stay like this forever

nothing lasts

and it’s better that way 

you’re allowed to feel

the way you do right now

don’t be ashamed

one day you’ll look back

and it won’t matter

you’ve moved on

no matter how rough it gets

how badly you want to stop

just hold on

there’s so much ahead

the world waiting for you

needing you to survive

I need you to hold on

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Anno sabbatico

Lo sai che l'anno scorso, per te,

ho perso il profumo della primavera,

ho dimenticato la spensieratezza dell'estate,

non sono rinata in autunno,

non ho vissuto il sonno dell'inverno?

Vorrei potertelo dire, oppure no,

vorrei solo dimenticare e la promessa

di non doverti più pensare in termini di resa.

Tornare a sorprendere, nell'aria di aprile,

nel freddo della sera,

le invisibili tracce del nostro lento mutare.

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La fronda de los violíes

Te conocí en un nido de golondrinasllena de misticismo y me pregunté: ¿regresará alguna vez nuevamente ha mi sepulcro?

Y entre dormido balbucie tu nombre imaginario, la fronda de los violines esparcían tu risa.

Mariposillas surcaban el arcoíris del amor y la esperanza, la suave brisa hacía caer la hojarasca de tus sonrojos…armoniosos querubines cantan alrededor de tu nido.

El azul celeste del crepúsculo humedece el color canela de tus ojos.

Anhelosa sentencia fortifica mi corazón… se refugió en tu guarida de las encunadas golondrinas de mi esperanza.

J Green

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flowers and weeds

i was at my window. again.

a dandelion seed flew in.

it’s pretty common to believe that people are flowers.

adding beauty to the universe.

growing. evolving.



i’d rather be a weed.

commonly misinterpreted.

quietly growing.

often uprooted.

observing from the exterior.

noticing the universe.

once in a while, adored by the occasional passerby.

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if i dont do this now ill probably never remember

Name: Mi
Pronouns: she/her
Interests: wlw content, reading (horror, comics, non-fic, fantasy), writing (poetry, short stories, fanfic), fandom (marvel, hannibal, star wars, star trek – but i have a side blog for this mostly), 8th-17th century Germanic music, and more recently, Baroque paintings (the last two made funnier by my complete disregard for religion/spirituality)
Languages: mainly English, might post in German

+ WIPs: aside from the poem i recently wrote one (1) line of, i have on my to-write list:

  • a poem insp by “lord send me a mechanic if i am not beyond repair”
  • a poem titled “a dialogue about self doubt”
  • a short story about literally fucking anything as long as i put some dialogue in it for once

+ Etc: bc i like fun facts but would rather die than “tell the class a fun fact about you”

  • im queer, 22, senior in college
  • i have 43 playlists on spotify bc i refuse to jumble all my music together so i sort everything by language n genre 
  • my favorite writing techniques are comma abuse and writing sentences with no punctuation
  • i have a love-hate relationship with Thomas Mann
  • i have a hate-only relationship with most classic literature
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thought tinnitus

checking my forehead for fever so often

that the heat of my hand accumulates

the bitterness of brown mangoes that shouldn’t be wasted

the sharp sting of open wounds under an open tap

the nauseating nasality of an oboe in yet another contrived weeping solo

the seductive smell of gasoline

the amber aftertaste of staring directly at the sun

nothing is salty enough to drown out the constant whirring

perhaps I’ll imagine that I’m Rosa Luxemburg

swimming in the Landwehr Canal

I’m feeling feverish but I don’t want to check.


I used to like sleeping on the top of my blanket but nowadays I’m too scared.

I pull all-nighters claiming I’m afflicted with jet lag—

the only way to make the world vanish is to fall asleep

so I have a duty to remain awake.

jin guai. anni sui. kiasi lang.

I’ve tried so hard to tire all the thoughts out of me.

the tight ski boots of ruthlessness won’t release me until I‌ descend this baseless mountain,

there’s something vulgar about virgin snow. something dead.



I stick my fingers up my nose and pull out my brain.

Nana tugged and tugged until she couldn’t think anymore.

I will take all the best parts of me and sell them at the market,

I will be a kind butcher, smiling sweetly

(still with my lips and teeth, nobody wants those)



when swimming, count to ten after every breath to make sure your lungs still remember how to hold air

and won’t be tempted to turn into gills

so you can meet her at the bottom

and the river will flow faster than your neurones can fire



don’t be such a kancheong spider

the mother of pearl in my grandmother’s furniture intone

but they are too hard to provide any other comfort.

no wonder people only used them when smoking opium.

my skull is empty now. I checked by knocking.

it’s still on fire.


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Just for a moment
I wish I could dwell in our future.
The one where I’d lay by your side
and feel loved,
comforted unconditionally.
I want that feeling now.
I want to hear your voice
and know I’m not the only one
who feels and thinks and dreams
the way I do.
I want to be held by you,
brushed by fingertips
and wandering lips
in places not accustomed
to affectionate attention.
I want you to see the beauty
I see in myself
and fall in love
with the little things about me
that even I am unaware of.
I just want you with me
for a moment at least.
Is that too much to ask?


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