And, importantly, share some recs!

people are non binary. my soul sings

(You indent my soul.)

Annabella of Ely, from Poems I-LXVII: “XLIV”

It's finally time! I've been excited to post about this FOREVER. Here is the cover for my new memoir about loving nature and struggling with depression. I'm very proud of this book and I adore this cover.

Artist: Tuesday Riddell

(Visit the link in my bio for more info.)

send "you're the prettiest thing i've ever seen." to see my muse's reaction. ♡ [feel free to add context / actions / other dialogue as needed.]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

Everything in the universe is within you.

-Rumi

Blackout

Aftermare Week by @bluepallilworld

Geno & Error by loverofpiggies

Nightmare by jokublog

If tomorrow I don't answer your calls, mom. If I don't tell you I'm coming to dinner. If tomorrow, the taxi doesn't appear. Maybe I'm wrapped in hotel sheets, on a street or in a black bag. Maybe I'm in a suitcase or I got lost on the beach. Don't be afraid, mom, if you see that I have been stabbed. Don't scream when you see that they dragged me. Mom, don't cry if you find out they impaled me. They'll tell you that it was me, that I didn't scream, that it was my clothes, the alcohol in my blood. They'll tell you it was right, that I was alone. That my psychopath ex had reasons, that I was unfaithful, that I was a whore. They will tell you that I lived, mom, that I dared to fly very high in a world without air. I swear, mom, I died fighting. I swear, my dear mom, I screamed as loud as I flew high. You'll remember me, mom, you'll know I ruined him when you'll face everyone screaming my name. Because I know, mom, you won't stop. But, for what you want more, don't tie up my sister. Don't lock up my cousins, don't deprive your nieces. It's not your fault, mom, it wasn't even mine. It's them, it will always be them. Fight for their wings, those wings that he cut me off. Fight for them, may they be free to fly higher than me. Fight to scream louder than me. May they live without fear, mom, just as I have lived. Mom, don't cry over my ashes. If tomorrow it's my turn, mom, if tomorrow I don't come back, destroy everything. If tomorrow it's my turn, I want to be the last.

Cristina Torres Cáceres Perù, 2011

[Image description: The text of a tiktok, edited erasure-poetry to read, "you call a non-binary person a friend ya".]

---

you call a non-binary person a friend ya

Who to rent myself out to? What beast should I adore? What sacred image is being attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lie must I maintain? — What blood shall I trample?

Arthur Rimbaud, trans. by Mark Polizzotti, from A Season in Hell: “Bad Blood”

I often wonder how people express themselves if they do not commit themselves in any way to the arts? Presumably most people on the planet do not produce art intentionally so what...do they do with their inner world? Does it just torture them from the inside? Genuinely curious.

#PHYSICAL. for when muses need some extra support & self-esteem lifts. all terms are gender-neutral.

hi, pretty.

good morning, handsome.

well, aren't you a beauty?

your eyes are so lovely…

i wish you could see what i see.

please smile more, it's beautiful.

you're pretty even when you cry.

you are the most attractive person in this room. maybe this building. maybe this area, actually.

your body is beautiful because it's yours. don't forget that.

may i touch you? i want to see if you're truly real.

you look like a dream.

my pretty girl / boy / (muse's name).

your hands are nice… n-not like that! i mean, uh..

you don't need makeup or fancy jewelry or fancy clothes. you're perfect, okay?

here, have a silly poem about rats and gender that i wrote at one o’clock in the morning, and that may or may not make any sense:

my gender is like a rat

i don’t know anything about him

i don’t know where she comes from, or where she lives

but when i see him, i try to grab them, to figure out what her deal is

i never catch him.

sometimes the rat bites

i don’t know why they do it

one moment i’ll be cleaning up, and the next i’m bleeding

and yet, even then, i can’t catch the rat

so i’m left standing there, alone

the bites hurt.

maybe i’ve been going about this all wrong

maybe i don’t need to catch her

maybe i need to stop trying to fight them, and accept him as a friend instead

maybe then she’ll stop biting me

maybe.

my gender is like a rat

i like rats, even when they bite

i wish they wouldn’t, though

I think the difficult thing with trauma responses and fears is that when people try to comfort you by saying your fears wont happen is that: well actually, they did happen? Why would they not happen again? I have no reason to believe they wont. I want to prepare myself for when they happen again. And the advice of 'Don't assume people are out to get you and hurt you' is so hard to believe because you've experienced that actually, people were out there to hurt you. It's so hard to regain trust in people once it's been broken.