in-myownhome

[in-myownhome]

cruelty is so easy. youre not special for choosing it

[in-myownhome]

Cave Pearls: The same calcite that forms stalactites and stalagmites sometimes forms around a grain of sand, forming these guys. If you take them from the cave they will dry out and crumble to nothing.

[in-myownhome]

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[in-myownhome]

days keep happening to me. and nights also. no say in it whatsoever

[in-myownhome]

Ruth Awad, from “Let me be a lamb in a world that wants my lion”

[in-myownhome]

The houses were not Hamas. The kids were not Hamas. Their clothes and toys were not Hamas. The neighborhood was not Hamas. The air was not Hamas. Our ears were not Hamas. Our eyes were not Hamas. The one who ordered the killing, the one who pressed the button thought only of Hamas.

— Mosab Abu Toha, from "The Wounds," Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear

[in-myownhome]

We deserve a better death.

— Mosab Abu Toha, from "We Deserve a Better Death," Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear

[in-myownhome]

They didn’t find a place to bury you. They carried you on their shoulders, The houses never saw you. They’ve already packed their bags.

— Mosab Abu Toha, Oct 17, 2023, from "Ceasefire Cento," published by Vox Populi

Reported today by LitHub: Reports suggest Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha has been kidnapped by Israeli forces.

[in-myownhome]

Colonizers write about flowers. I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks seconds before becoming daisies. I want to be like those poets who care about the moon. Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons. It’s so beautiful, the moon. They’re so beautiful, the flowers.

— Noor Hindi, from “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying,” DEAR GOD. DEAR BONES. DEAR YELLOW.

[in-myownhome]

is mine an evil heart?

— Joey de Jesus, from "Ancha (Redux)," published in Roadmap

[in-myownhome]

being trans is a survival skill like making fire, like staying warm, like making art, like watching netflix until you’re so numb you’re ready to not be numb again.

— June Gehringer, from kiss me so good i believe again

[in-myownhome]

​EARTH IS AN ANAGRAM FOR HEART, U FUCKING IDIOTS

I.

This is all wrong.

We should be talking about how there’s a nine-year-old smiling somewhere.

We should be saying the names of all the people we have loved and never known like those words are a magic spell, because they are.

I don’t want to hear another word about Trump until you have whispered the names of all ~50,000 species of trees in my ear.

Sext: there are so many flowers you haven’t seen.

II.

The world comes to us in terms of death,

140 characters at a time.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I want to lie in what little grass remains

and try to fit your heart inside of mine.

But soon there is no grass,

and the function of the heart is transportation.

Soon, there is no grass anywhere,

and love is not enough.

I don’t know how to stop the flight of a tomahawk,

I’m busy building houses out of colored sand.

I am such a useless thing.

III.

None of this belongs to me or anyone.

I was simply born with more eyes

than could be made comfortable,

I was born with blood.

I wonder if it is possible to bury myself. Each day

more than the day before, I wonder

how much blood is in the Earth.

It is time we move, uproot

our budding bodies from the blood-soaked Earth,

it is time to go.

And if there’s not somewhere for us to go

then we’ll make somewhere,

we’ll move as one toting bags of dirt, a

nd we’ll fucking bury them.

We’ll bury them in Mar-a-Lago and

we’ll bury them in Washington, and

we will bury them in the shopping malls.

We’ll bury them in the oil fields

and in Baton Rouge, and in the Gulf of Mexico.

We will bury the borders and we will bury

the aircraft carriers and we will

even bury skyscrapers: we have earth enough

for this.

We will bury this Earth in earth and

I will love you while we wait

for blood to grow.

CATEGORY 5 TROPICAL DEPRESSION

​it sounds like

it’s raining outside

but i think

it just sounds like that.

i ran out of food yesterday but

i don’t want to leave the house.

the phrase “tropical depression”

makes me imagine

conor oberst

in a hawaiian shirt.

the phrase “i love you”

makes me imagine

a time when you won’t.

i woke up ten minutes ago.

the world is still blurry.

i like it better like that.

​SO MUCH GOOD HAS HAPPENED AND

almost none of it was me.

there are entire forests which are single

organisms, hundreds of trees joined

only at the root.

guess what they look like?

they look like regular forests.

they’re fucking beautiful.

everyone i love

looks the same

when i am looking

at the sky,

✱✱✱

Picture

June Gehringer is a co-founder of tenderness, yea. She tweets @unlovablehottie and she loves u, like, a lot.

[in-myownhome]

june gehriner earth is an anagram for heart, u fucking idiots

kofi

[in-myownhome]

i love you, it looks like rain, June Gehringer

[in-myownhome]

It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.

[in-myownhome]

[in-myownhome]

dont enjoy the snobbish rich kid & scrappy street-smart poor kid dynamic in media only because whenever you actually interact with people who grew up rich in real life you want to kill them with a medium to large rock.