I Am No Longer a Hostage of Your Moral Poverty.
I no longer spend my days in a delusional dystopia, dizzily dancing in a claustrophobic circus. Now I dance when and with whom I want.
Browsing Tag:
Amy Blanaru
My Blind Spot Is Gone, My Engine No Longer in Sync with His Breath of Fire.
He turns the corner on two wheels and I turn the page. He shuts the engine, I shut the book. Turns out this type of story is a legendary myth.
Fight the Patri-Archaic Bullshit.
Choose bravery and perseverance. When the patriarchy causes anger and apathy to creep in, choose enlightenment by empathy.
Carnal Instinct of a Beautiful Sin.
I wonder if carnal instincts of beautiful sins are my new normal. I wonder what happened to my belief system and what my legacy will be.
On Repeat: Love Trumps Hate.
I never heard a racial slur in my house growing up, and I know that if I am ever blessed with children, they will never hear any slurs.
From Shiver to Quiver, Dust to Lust.
I wonder what it’s like in your head, not just in your bed, where orgasms preside and emotional baggage is checked at the door. The bed you enter in the dark like a tornado, and escape from in the light like an illuminating lightning storm. The kind of storm one wants to get close to because of ...
Damn You, Destiny, and Fuck You, Fate.
I mourned for what I thought was our completion of each other. I mourned for our moral poverty and our perversion. I lamented our symbiotic synchronicity and our delicious heartburn disguised as desire. A little piece of my heart and soul left me that day, like a little piece of stiletto heel ...
I’m In A Therapeutic Relationship With Ghosts, And It’s Complicated.
To opponents of addiction treatment: can we please hold a moratorium on judgment?
The Good News Is: You Have Passion. The Bad News Is: You Have Passion.
The Queen knows it’s neither irrational nor unjust to be passionate and to search for passion. The Queen makes no apologies and says, Fuck the Disclaimer. No one can ignore The Queen. Her passion can be seen, felt, heard, tasted, and touched.
I Needed You in Me. {poetry}
I craved and used you again and again,
simultaneously tortured and enthralled.
I was as addicted to the ritual as I was to you.
I needed it.