Tenacious Poets

To our viewers (From Autumnalis):

We are struggling. In August of 2025, we were kidnapped and forced into a human trafficking situation in Newport, Oregon. We had just found an affordable place. We were both hurt in ways I have a hard time speaking about save through poetry, which I've begun sharing here on Instagram. We were both sexually assaulted and held against our will in the area around our own apartment complex for two months. Through savvy, we escaped and helped a few other people in the same circumstance. The police and the medical system have done nothing to help us.

We are currently living in a tent. It's not too bad when it's not raining, but we both have medical issues sustained from the kidnapping. Raphael has a TBI and I have some pretty intense seizures, we were hit on our heads often. Both of our families have disowned us and so have pretty much all of our friends, because we were outed as queer in the process of  escaping. We live in rural Oregon where it's not super friendly towards people like us. We've been threatened, assaulted, and violated numerous times since escaping, even at the shelter we were sent to by a center for domestic violence.

In spite of all of this, we are thriving in a difficult situation. Raphael has unemployment through the state and we've managed to get food stamps and OHP. We are in the process of trying to get medical treatment and counseling. We don't have a car anymore because it was vandalized and then towed, a house would be nice but we can't quite make rent. Living on the coast is difficult without a vehicle, getting one would make getting jobs for the both of us easier. If anyone is able to help donate even a small amount, we'd be incredibly grateful. We love writing poetry and look forward to sharing until the day we die. Thank God Raffi does most of the work creating the images and managing this account, I mostly focus on the writing as I am a bit shy socially since everything happened. God bless,

Autumnalis and Raphael Galerina

tonight’s

there’s

8.3 Billion People on the face of earth

and still

people are lonely

but loneliness

is but a drop

into a bottomless ocean

when compared

to those

without food

without shelter

without peace

And the man that came after

You were too young to understand

That love was meant to be free

Meant to be given and received

That your heart was worth fighting for

You deserved a stronger fight

For your right to believe what you do

Instead of hiding it, instead of keeping it in

You deserved to let your flag fly high

And proud and free

You deserved better from me

But you’re safe now, kept in my memory

The joy, the laughter, the me I used to be

I’m sorry, so sorry

It’s a raw dawn on the morning of the poor. "Be thankful," they are told, "here is your daily crust." The feathers of the very wealthy have been groomed for the ball. The day passes quickly for the few who know pleasure. Evening is a pistol and a whip; all the knives have been sharpened. There will be fresh meat. "Where did the day go?" Even as the poor ones scurry off, the music begins to play, and the sound of laughter escapes the ballroom the way a balloon escapes a child's hand. 

Construction paper blue fluffy cotton stuck with Elmer's glue Crayola trees you drew as a kid

sun in my—I'm not crying sighing, I love Thai food

What would Jesus do if I were drowning?

...you can't swim

and so He sings "Oceans" by Hillsong walking on water as long as He can

sand begs for footprints waves steal them

when orange meets navy

save me

or

rise again

Lord, I see your face in the stitching of the sky

I oh I

am nothing more than the lies of my father

in the eyes of my mother a dirty whore

at least I'm not a bore!

Before I melt let me tell you what I felt in the silt of the Alsea River

boy, I shivered as forgiveness washed my toes

oh well oh well oh well

oh sell me on truth as I suck my tooth I am new to life today

how do you say your name?

shame I'll never answer if you give her an inch she'll take a smile

and I'll be waiting, yes, I'll be waiting in Heaven for you I believe in love after all I believe in love after all I believe in love

after all All of you are asking all of you are wanting all of you are helpless as we eat the world

black pearl in an oyster shell

cracked

in half

in your mouth

Euthanasia may be the simplest way to begin

we are all born to sin in an instant forget your time as an infant

you are pregnant with the sun

may He rise, may He rise, may He RISE!

Rose against the night

yes, the light is burning yes, the light is burning

YES!

Peanut butter and jelly on my tenth birthday

Grandpa...is in Hell

my mother, unwell her head inside a pillow

Say Hello to God for me, Granddad I know you

have some words

for Him

No sin to question

why He took your wife

Your life together meant to be forever

stolen by cancer at 55

Alive, without her... ...another drink, another smoke until cancer broke your lungs and your liver

now

He's with her

the lack of answers

a pillowcase of brambles

beneath your weary head

you ask the trees

the breeze

the stars for theories

empty quotations

sandalwood smoke

Write in metaphors all you want won't make the moment more special

something something 'bout Satan's beauty something something 'bout your Godly duty

shoot me shoot me shoot me

"She was found dead broad daylight sprawled out on the concrete

defeated by her arrogance eaten by her incompetence and beaten by herself"

Dust on the shelf

Self esteem means you get to hear

nobody cares

and realize

I'm nobody

-Graphics by Raphael Galerina

575 pages and I haven't aged a bit money tastes like shit, if I quit my job maybe God would make me write better

I get it, it guts me, but I get it forget my dreams as soon as I get up learn to shut up so I can cash in those paychecks

every second a cent or two

Truth is Diet Pepsi bittersweet, exactly the caffeine I need to get through the day

grin and say

Hey

to my boss she cost me my tips and cut my hours but she has power

over me

My lover thinks he sees beauty in my art my dissected heart, caked with cholesterol

all of me is not enough to get by

so I try

and die again

so I try

and die again,

revenant

who carry entire graveyards beneath their sternum

and still apologize

for taking up space.

I have watched them

stand fluorescent and trembling

in grocery store aisles at 11:12 p.m.

holding avocados like wounded hearts,

their mouths full of unsent apologies,

their eyes ringed in the mauve exhaustion

of surviving too much tenderness.

You can always tell the haunted ones.

They move as though their bodies were borrowed.

As though some colossal celestial animal

once stepped directly through them

and left the architecture smoldering.

Their laughter arrives half a second too late.

Their love arrives all at once.

At night

they become maritime things.

Salt-blooded.

Moon-pulled.

Restless as drowned cathedrals.

They lie awake listening to refrigerators hum

like ancient machinery keeping God alive somewhere underground.

The world calls them dramatic

because the world has never felt

its own consciousness rupture open

like a ripe fig under the thumb of grief.

But i have seen these women survive.

I have seen them rise from divorces

like smoke climbing out of burned churches.

I have seen them cradle children,

bury parents,

swallow loneliness

like communion wine.

I have seen them stand barefoot in dim kitchens

at 3:46 in the morning,

drinking water directly from the faucet

while the universe pressed its cold metallic mouth

against the back of their neck.

And still

they remained capable of tenderness.

This is the miracle no one writes about.

Not resurrection.

Not purity.

Not forgiveness.

Tenderness.

The audacity of becoming soft again

after the world has tried to turn your spirit

Wings slice through

Silken light

My slippery heart in my hands

Somehow the ghost of the girl

I used to be twirls in the 4 o'clocks

My ankles in the hollyhocks

My face turned toward the sun

Cotton puffs in azure skies

Concrete under bare skin

It's bearable to stay alive

so tell me what more must i burn

Finished stitching my Oversight series.