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@sevenwinged
āIs this love?ā I ask as I turn the knife inside my stomach.
āIs this love?ā I ask as I grip you hand over the flames.
āIs this love?ā I ask as I listen to you speak for hours.
āIs this love?ā I ask as I let go.
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I want to be kind in the way children are. Let me give you a slice of my orange, hold your hand, and tell you my most fervent dreams.
the best crab rangoon
the best crab rangoon i ever had was when i was eight with my dad at our favorite thai restaurant. i think it was the middle of the day, the sun shining through the windows, and my dad had insisted we get them because i had never had one. it was the best crab rangoon iāve ever hadā not because it was a great crab rangoon, but because i was eight. i was eight and with my dad before his hair was grey, i was eight and our favorite thai restaurant hadnāt been sold to a new owner yet, i was eight and had nothing else to think about besides my dad, the warm light from the window, the starched white table cloth, and my crab rangoon.
because iām only twenty yet i feel so old and so young at the same time. because i cannot imagine being twenty-five but would never want to go back to being sixteen. because i feel like im being flung through time, unwilling, grasping what i can from my youth before itās gone. because im scared of my future and ashamed of my past. because iām only twenty and the world is so large, but the space i inhabited as a child is too small for me now.
i am going to change the world. the girl who i was a year ago was sure of it and i believe her.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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iām still holding onto childhood,
weaving the threads of it between my fingers to try to keep it close to my heart,
but iām moving beyond it at an exponential rate,
threads cutting into my skin and my circulation,
and i fear if i donāt let go soon
i wonāt have fingers left to hold onto it with.
you never stop being who you were when you were fourteen. you never stop listening to zedd electronic songs from strange youtube animations, you never stop pulling down your shirts over stomach. you never stop feeling like youāll grow another two inches.
you never stop being who you were when you were twelve. you never stop loving the same tv shows. you never stop closing your eyes when listening to music and imagining you were anywhere else. you never stop loving your friends more than yourself.
you never stop being who you were when you were sixteen. you never stop having that moment of panic before you turn onto the highway. you never stop dreaming of holding someone after a long day. you never stop looking at the girls online and hoping that you look like them one day.
i am who i have always been, but iām still learning to love her.
āhand of god, deliver me from my faults.ā
he reaches into my soul, woven, and begins to pull out the threads of misdeed and grievance. he attempts at being gentle, but no matter how lightly he tugs at the rotted, mismatched bits of my soul, it unwinds the rest. my soul spirals on the floor, the ball of yarn twisting as if being played with by an imaginary kitten with too-large paws. itās left to me to wind it back up again.
and when the swell of the muse can no longer reach my fingertips,
and the peace in my heart is ruptured by the sound of trumpets,
i will take my seat at the table of the lord,
and hope desperately i was seated closest to the ones i love and the cheese table of the eternal feast.
the root of peace is forgiveness.
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iāll be larger than life. my fingers will skim the horizon and iāll blow the clouds away so the sky will be eternally blue. iāll shift the stars in the night sky so i can wear a crown of stars. iāll place my hands in traffic so the elderly may take their time crossing the street. iāll pick up the midnight train and place it down a town over so my friends may sleep soundly at night. iāll hold up devices for scientists with too little funding to afford weather balloons. iāll cradle crashing planes in my hands, lowering them to safety. iāll never make the news, never need or want recognition. iāll be larger than life and my scope of the universe will grow with my body. iāll help the people around me like a gardener hands a squirrel a nut in the fall. iāll help people like a driver stopping to let a mother duck and her ducklings pass. iāll be incredible, the most powerful person alive, but my only peace will come from those around me. heaven is the warm embrace of another. joy is my friends laughing after i made a joke. serenity is my parents in their sitting room. my heart has always been two sizes too big, but once iām larger than life itāll be five too large. iāll be larger than life.
thereās a sinking feeling in contentment. thereās something i should be doing, something iāve left undone. i couldāve been working on myself. i could be working. why arenāt i working? i should be working. every waking moment and even in my sleep. every day is an opportunity. i could start a business. i could write a book. i could do one thousand push ups. maybe then i would feel better about myself. maybe i could sleep at night. instead i have the audacity, the unbelievable ability to feel content. iām sinking.
unwilling motion in a time of joy and dread
iām standing on the precipice of something. iāve craved change for years, stayed up at night wondering the possibilities, cried as i ripped out parts of myself hoping they grew back stronger, yet as i stand at the border of irreversible changeā real changeāi find myself hesitating.
the universe speaks over my shoulder. āyou long for more, grasping for bits and boiling over. youāve always looked forward and stepped without hesitation. why do you hesitate now?ā
i shake. āi didnāt think i had anything to lose before. i didnāt have the fear of losing what i had. i thought change and success would be what brought me peace, but iāve found it where i already am. how do i move on from that? i want to stay where i am.ā i take a step back, turning towards the universe with defiance. its cloak is made of everything iāve ever known. science lab kits and bees crawling on flowers and christmas lights still hanging in january. its face is my motherās and my fatherās and my grandmotherās, brow swirling from disappointed towards acceptance and then unnervingly plain.
the universe is gentle when it clasps my shoulder. āyou mistake peace for complacency. a complacent heart eventually fails, the sweetness of an eternal happy life turning to lard in the blood. it rots the heart from the inside out.ā the universe turns me back around to face the precipice of something.
itās tumultuous and writhing, shifting and obscure. to take even a step into it would absorb me. i could never come back to where i stand now. my heart constricts. āi am where iām happiest, isnāt that where iām supposed to be? maybe iām complacent. iāll step forward eventuallyā give me a while to think about what i want. to savor what i have.ā
āthere is no eventually, only now. progress or you will rot.ā the precipice of something inches towards me. the universe shifts, impatient, its grasp growing tighter.
āplease, i justā i just need a little more timeāā the universe shoves my shoulder, sending me over the precipice. when my body spins from the impact its face is my motherās, looking on with a soft smile.
i need to go home. home is my bed with stuffed animals between the covers, home is my parentsā tomato garden, home is chalk on the driveway, home is lunch with the neighborhood kids. they moved away four years ago.
i need to go home. home is my fatherās hugs, home is my freshman year homecoming dress, home is the movie theater six years ago. the movie theater closed down last year.
i need to go home. home is church on easter in my nicest dress, home is a hot chocolate in my hands, home is a chicken gyro from the mom and pop shop a block away. the gyro place closed two years ago.
home is distant. home is where i stand now when i look back in a month. home is ten years ago. home is my life seen through the looking glass of memories. home is shifting. home is unreachable. i need to go home. i need to go home.
when i look into the bonfire surrounded by my friends my favorite color is red
when iām laying on my back on a cool summer morning pondering the clouds my favorite color is blue
when a shell covered in the shifting colors of a sunset washes onto the shore and into my hands my favorite color is orange
when a gentle breeze rocks the branches of my neighborās weeping willow my favorite color is green
when i come home and my mom greets me with a cup of hot chocolate and a hug my favorite color is brown
when i open my blinds after a restful sleep and find luminescent snow covering my neighborhood my favorite color is white
when the crocus in my yard peeks out after a long winter my favorite color is purple
when a raven lands next to me at the bus stop and hops around, picking at the bread crumbs left by my sandwich my favorite color is black
when my best friend enthusiastically explains how her favorite color is yellow because it reminds her of joy my favorite color is yellow, as well
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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death of a rockstar
iām a giant in a childās body
thin and lithe with mercury for blood
i hum and the world claps for more
maybe i was dead five years ago
wasting my body to see the world and feel and feel and feel
but maybe all that needed to be felt was a smile from an old friend
and a worn guitar in my hands, warmed by the sun.
stop trying to sell me things. stop trying to sell me things. please just look at me as a person with dreams and aspirations and a soul in my ribcage. i need help and a warm hand to guide me, not two pizzas for $6.99 or snake oil for $29.95 or new jeans to replace my old jeans you sold me five years ago. iām a person. iām a person. iām a person.