livebloggingmydescentintomadness:
people with uteri are never gonna have a perfectly flat stomach. they’re always gonna have a little pouch, because that’s where we keep our bees.
once a month the moon angers the bees
SAT Word of The Day 05/30/16
Word of the Day: 05/30/16
The word of the day is: PHOSPHENE
phosphene (noun) the ring of ‘stars’ seen when you rub your eyes hard
I’ve always thought of phosphenes as my own private galaxy.
Who could come up with the best sentence for today’s word?
“I have recently come to the realization
that I will be writing “the bipolar disorder poem”
for the rest of my life.
There are hundreds of ways
to say I am wrapped in my own bees nest.
or My body is a haunted house that I am lost in.
There are no doors but there are knives and a hundred windows.
or My body has apologized to my body.
My body is not sure if it accepts.
or I am a river with a dam at its neck
that has begun to drown its own fish.
or I am a field setting itself on fire
just to become the sun.
or I am a newborn so obsessed with the birth,
I throttle my own throat and hope for a repeat.
or I am a ball of melted wax burying my own wick.
or I am the flame melting my body down into a hard mess.
or My eyes have learned not to believe themselves.
or My eyes have learned the sky will be
a red sea of winged teeth if you believe it to be so.
or I am trapped behind eyes
that recognize the demon in everything.
or There is a demon in everything; I know this.
or My brain is my own cracked windshield,
my own bug-splattered glass mirror
and I am driving towards the sunrise.
or I am still driving towards the sunrise.”
that I will be writing “the bipolar disorder poem”
for the rest of my life.
There are hundreds of ways
to say I am wrapped in my own bees nest.
or My body is a haunted house that I am lost in.
There are no doors but there are knives and a hundred windows.
or My body has apologized to my body.
My body is not sure if it accepts.
or I am a river with a dam at its neck
that has begun to drown its own fish.
or I am a field setting itself on fire
just to become the sun.
or I am a newborn so obsessed with the birth,
I throttle my own throat and hope for a repeat.
or I am a ball of melted wax burying my own wick.
or I am the flame melting my body down into a hard mess.
or My eyes have learned not to believe themselves.
or My eyes have learned the sky will be
a red sea of winged teeth if you believe it to be so.
or I am trapped behind eyes
that recognize the demon in everything.
or There is a demon in everything; I know this.
or My brain is my own cracked windshield,
my own bug-splattered glass mirror
and I am driving towards the sunrise.
or I am still driving towards the sunrise.”
Jacqui Germain, “Bipolar is Bored and Renames Itself,“ The Bones, The Salt & The Water (via mythaelogy)
