Shush, don't tell.

2012-05-18 0 notes

Why can’t I cum? I get so close, I’m getting there, I’m getting there, and then no. Just nothing. I just can’t. And I don’t know why. I’m so freaking horny. And I can’t get myself. No one ever can…

Someone, make me forget who I am?

2012-04-12 0 notes

I know you’re never gonna be mine again, but you’ll always be my girl…

I lie in bed staring at the wall. I see myself standing on my bed, hitting against this wall. But there’s drag on it. I see the motion my arms have gone. I see multiple bodies all from the one pair of legs. Fist after fist against the wall. Shouts and screams from my mouth. It goes on and on. Blood coming from my knuckles but I don’t stop…

All this is happening inside my head and here I am, just curled up at the wrong end of my bed with the feeling not going anywhere but through my eyes. Streaming down my face, and no way to stop…

0 notes

Casually making myself cry by writing things…

2012-02-27 0 notes

I will not break down in work.

I will not break down in work.
No. I will not break down.

2012-02-20 0 notes

qwesrdtyfukjnhbvwesdrvfhbv

2012-02-19 4,291 notes

How to Make Love to a Trans Person

By Gabe Moses

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet itLet her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

(via injackwetrust)

Source: genderqueerchicago.blogspot.com

2012-02-18 0 notes

I hate not being able to sleep.
I have that you still have this effect on me.
Fuckfuckfuck, I give up with you.

2012-02-15 0 notes

Bubble guy in work is annoyed at me…

Because I told him he had to finish his work before going, but I was joking. And now he’s all arsey because he’s got to stay and finish it and I said to just go and now he’s being stubborn and sticking it out.

He done two 9 and a half hour days and now has to leave at 3 every other day. And now with him staying longer (10ish minutes) he has to do less work tomorrow.

Fucking people in work… *le sigh*