She is not a Mother, but a nuisance. A pesky toddler playing dress-up, not realizing she too is in want of the guidance she insists she can give…
Marginalized freedom cannot coexist with everyone’s freedom. That would be world destroying. It would be like swinging a wrecking ball through all understandings of personhood, governance, and social scripting. Just swing it, then.
His existence as an artist is in and of itself a disobedience which decolonizes our understanding of Black Masculinity…
As an artist, Travis has created a Black God of himself which extends its arms to white adoration…
i dont actually remember the pretense for this assignment, what exact story i was told to mimic. but i’ve posted two snippets from this on here so far, so i figured id just put the whole thing up— for my legacy of course.
i believe in the opera.
that the gold at the bottom of the river awards even the ugliest, most horrific of monsters.
we knew the gods would wreak havoc on the crops. and the harvested grain would spread disease in our bellies, grow rot in our chests. so we sustained our own famine.
at some point tonight, i became particularly convinced that you died for a brief moment when inhaling that cigarette.
i’ve loved many men in brief moments. but i’ve never cared much for their lasting presence.
Meet me
Dictator… and Blogger
i dont actually remember the pretense for this assignment, what exact story i was told to mimic. but i’ve posted two snippets from this on here so far, so i figured id just put the whole thing up— for my legacy of course.