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i cry

i cry most days for many reasons

but i don’t want to live in sadness

i also need to feel love

pass across the face of the earth

sink into the hearts of our oppressors

have them hold back that punch

and kick the dirt instead

and if this is not possible

i want to see the ones who walk over graves

like they are taking a step across

the happiest place on earth


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tell me how to strip off this breastplate
and dress myself in pure, lace bodice
washed in all shades of subservience,
when lilith herself taught me
to bare to no man —
bow to no man.

the soil of these lands are built on liberation;
your ribs stake no claim
to what they do not own.
they merely return to dust and ashes —
the very material
of the land you betrayed —
the land you watched burn down,

and i’ll tell you this:
this land, it will drift, shake, crumble
to create a catacomb big enough
for all the deaths
you deserve.

honey, this is no prophecy.
this is no threat.

this is justice out of the ribs
of those who’d fallen;
this is justice at the hands of the oppressed.

— fdn

photo by: balintataw photography

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I was running when you found me

With my heart filled of thorns and your head crowned with daisies

In the field of dandelions we met

Your tired eyes looked at mine with regret

With petals in my hands, and yours filled with blood

We part ways, losing what we never have.

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Cruelty of humans, is too much to grasp,
apparently the best of creation,
yet we leave no stone unturned to harm the lesser being,
be it an animal, an unearthly creature or even a fellow human,
who are we if not the monsters we are scared from.
We take away from those who have no voice,
even when they find a way to speak, we feel no remorse,
such is the level of atrocities we commit,
in our heedless haste, we are but the devils advocate instead,
then we rue the world and still don’t look within ourselves.

- DG

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to watch a dream


crushed into smithereens,

shards of glass,

tattered paper floating on the wind,

with not a care in the world

that it was


ink smears on the paper,

dirty handprints on the glass,


a pure slate

a place for

rebirth, for

finding yourself,

pushing your limits,

exploring the world with an open mind and a

blank canvas,

now dirty,


never to be the same again:

that’s heartbreak.

- and it doesn’t have to be about a person // a.k.

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Who are you

when someone tells a racist “joke" 
or makes a bigoted comment?
Are you the one who laughs at it?
The one to call it out?
The one saying it?

Who are you

when news cycles change
and you have the privilege to
forget about racial injustice?
Do you even recognize it?
Give in to it? Challenge it? 

Who are you when the fight isn’t for you?

Who do you want to be?

– Who Are You When You Don’t Have to Pay Attention? // h.w

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We fell into the moon swaying
on a rusty swing set where
once we played make believe
flying up to the stars
wheeling above the smoke
and dismay no longer young
but old beyond our years
turning laughter into tears
the march of men and guns
leave smoke rings along
the path of our perdition
no longer ripe with hope
we’ve been transmogrified
each crawling into our very
own personal bunker
where we hunker down to
await the coming fires

for @goose-lit

600ft fell the moon

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Perhaps one day

Years from now

When the sky rises, then

Falls away in brilliant

Blue pieces                                        Up

We’ll all sprout wings                         

From our backs

Like trees                               Up

From the earth                        

And fly,                     


Until the world is far behind us

At last, empty

And left in peace.

-Wings (2020) via @lend-your-lungs-to-me

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The evening sun reclines
in golden clouds that swoon
across the ramparts of my soul

Where late I walk now lit
by moon and star in
heavenly repose

Revealing a hidden path
of stepping stones that
lift me up above these

Walls of sorrow and dismay
I see a land without pain
lit in shining rays of hope

Where in I search for the day
when chains no longer hold me
and I can be on my merry way

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