💜《«♡Dea♡»》💜

This is one of those non-poem things that are among my favorite poems.

As the OP stated, the use of alliterative consonants is aesthetically just great, especially the placement of the strongest use at the end: “fuck him on the floor.” The use of “chintz” is indeed great word choice.

Because I’m insane, decided to scan the poem:

Not only is the second sentence, indeed, perfect iambic pentameter, the entire poem is perfectly metered, though the first sentence has four iambs rather than five.

There are further things I love about this poem, though: I like the casual connotations of “keep it real” juxtaposed with “chintz.” It causes me to interpret the “chintz” more strongly as meaning something fake, a facade. There is also of course the coarseness of “fuck,” which is a contrast with “chintz” but a different kind of contrast, gutsy and carnal where “chintz” is flimsy and inanimate.

And then there is the storytelling: there is SO MUCH storytelling in just these two lines. To break it down: The speaker is having sex with a married man, in the house he shares with his wife, which is “filled with chintz”—something that here connotes fakeness, in contrast with “keep it real.”

The illicit encounter in the poem takes place within a house filled with facade, the flimsy construction of the wife’s marriage and domestic sphere, but the encounter itself is a taste of something “real.” That’s a story, and it’s just two lines.

This is EIGHTEEN SYLLABLES, y’all. The amount of meaning condensed into these eighteen syllables is stunning, and it is so elegantly done.

The Mysterious Pervert has deleted their reblog

i wonder if my goyish friends would understand the sheer dread in the pit of my stomach when i saw this.

how many jews have been killed now?

who else wants me dead?

how will people (who i once thought would be friends, who i marched alongside, who i trusted) justify my death?

when will i need to flee?

i wonder if i should explain it to them. i think they would trust me. (i hope they would trust me.) maybe i could help them not fall into the pit of hatred of jews (are they already in the pit? would they want me dead? my cousin who goes to camp in israel every year? my great aunt who made aliyah?) but i don't want to do that. it's tiring. it's exhausting. and it's even harder when it's not faceless icons on a screen, but people i care about, who i value.

i wonder if i knew any of the dead. if i knew someone who knew any of the dead. i wonder if there are any dead. i wonder if it's just someone saying there should be dead. i wonder when that became a "just". i wonder if i'll need to flee to israel. i wonder when i'll need to flee to israel. i wonder if i will flee to israel. i wonder how they'll go about killing us. i wonder if they'll use all the inventions of modernity, i wonder if there will be parking lots like there were at auschwitz. i wonder if there will be death camps or just pogroms. i wonder if we'll be allowed to call them pogroms, or if we'll be accused of exaggerating, of lying for secret jew purposes.

i wonder what those secret jew purposes would even be. survival? being able to pray in peace? what is our secret nefarious goal, our hidden aim?

Somebody will be like "OMG check how good my baby looks now!!!" and post a photo that looks like this