Sonnet

Rare pity, mercy and compassion of the giants called humanity

just in case no one told you, you did well this year. you don’t even realize it :( I’m proud of you, you should be proud of yourself too

Who else literally does not talk

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.

You already know it hurts. 

Which is why you’re material for my words 

The word that was once life are now words 

On a screen, that you’ll never even see.

A repost of some of my writing…

Keep reading

Umduğunu bulamazsan bulduğunu um..

thank you

Refaat Alareer, an academic and lecturer at the Islamic University of Gaza, was martyred along with his family in a targeted assassination carried out by the Israeli occupation on December 7th, 2023. We must continue to stand against this genocide.

Reading a book that was released more than five years ago and coming here on Tumblr to talk about it is like coming to the party so late that you missed even the after-party of said party and now everything that's left are a few fanarts you stumble upon by almost lucky accident and someone tumbleweeds of posts long forgotten.

Untitled Rambles

I feel sick. Again. Not in control. Again.

Shaken, misplaced, irregular

I have all the words ready to spew out from my faucet,

But they won’t come out, not right now,

And not right. Just jumbled word vomit that smells like grief, aching, and anxiety.

My insides feel all torn up.

All messed up.

Just like my mind.

I’m currently trying to find out if I’m even alive.

This stupid ringing in my ear,

This stupid voice in my head,

This stupid way that I look at him.

Pushing my feelings aside. No longer shoving them down his throat, just my fingers that he loves to suck.

My body that he loves to touch.

My body that is hard for me to touch.

Looking around to see others wanting me but I’m not sure if I even want myself anymore.

Cause he used to want me in a way that made my heart fucking flutter. He used to want me in a way that proclaimed love was real.

I promised to put myself first.

I promised to love myself.

I used to put myself first.

I used to love myself more than I loved anyone else.

I met him and fell down a landslide.

Is it me wanting to get pleasure because it’s so easily accessible, or is it me wanting to get pleasure to erase those feelings, to take me to an out-of-body experience, to just make my brain empty and my body full? I want to be loved, and I want to be cared for. By him. But it’s not possible, not right now, perhaps not ever, just not in the way that I love and care for him. So I’m putting myself first. I will be organized, I will be on time, I will take my medication, I will make my bed and do yoga and see friends. I will have sex for pleasure and to fill that void. I believe that love just isn’t on the menu for me right now. Not right now. I know it will come, I vow it too. But I stop my beckoning. I hold off on the searching and the begging. I’m young. It’s about me.