đź’”
When we first heard opioid stories,
They were always in whispered tones
Now banners of sorrow mark the front steps of childhood homes;
Parents wept through daddy's girl eulogies
And merit badge milestones with their daughters and sons:
Laying there lifeless in their suits and gowns
Jan 31, 2025
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I go back to the old street
I don’t need any directions
I could find my way there in the dark
I know all the intersections
It’s not the same as I left it
And shall never be once more
There are overgrown bushes and
New buildings galore
They tore down my house with bulldozers
I wonder if they knew
A little girl grew up there
And that little girl died, too
Jun 5, 2024
đź—’
“Now I have to remember you for longer than I knew you”
“how do you process grief?” “by running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day.”
two headed calf poem
“i was a child my spine wasn’t developed enough to be your pillar”
“As a woman I have so much empathy for my mother, but as a daughter, I have so much anger..”
May 14, 2024
✍️
and a solar storm raged
the sky to soft pink
in the garden I’d watered that morning.
We’d just agreed it was to be
our last summer here
Together, and we said
“I will remember this forever”
and meant it.
It was the week it felt my dreams beganÂ
and I bled through my underwearÂ
on the way to the London show.
Discovered Jo was to die soon,
on the way to Sheffield.
It was 23 degrees in May
and my thighs wore shiningÂ
beads of sweat,
while I read that they’re going to drop bombs on Rafah
and cried to the red RobinÂ
roosting in the ivy.
That week I felt so proud
And so ashamed.
So happy
And so sad.Â
That week i saw my idols live
and die.
Saw my nephew roll for the first time.
Asked my lover to move in,
trembling as I did.Â
I felt fear rip through my torso
as I rubbed tiger balm into my aching neck
and traced the silver sliver of the moonÂ
with camphor scented fingers.Â
It was the week it all began
Or ended,
The week I saw Mitski live,
The week my dad fell off his bike,
The week Albini died,
The week I saw the Northern Lights
and cried and cried and cried,
The week before I turned 29.Â
- I wrote this on Saturday. Last week was the most mental week.
May 13, 2024
Top Recs from @mattshawsome
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this is worthy of celebration: the lack of video—autoplay video, noisy inane video, panicky video, algorithmic, dumb video, rabbit hole video, any video—on pi.fyi is a good thing
Oct 5, 2024
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this is going to hurt — A LOT — but it's getting to the point where there's no other option
6d ago
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one of my 2025 habit goals
alone or with others, it is the best
Jan 21, 2025