That July @thatjuly - Tumblr Blog

i’m a poet and a writer, obsessed with turning my myriad of issues into something i can pretend is beautiful. this is where i put the thoughts too short or too wrong for my poetry journal and too literary or too vulnerable for my main blog.

you’re welcome to stick around if you’d like. i’ll be speaking here as much as i think up things to post, which may be often or never.

this blog was made on a whim in the middle of the night, as most things to do with me are, and most things to do with this blog will be.

i am queer, nonhuman, chronically ill, and neurodivergent. this will deeply impact anything here.

#pinned post #july speaks

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every couple of months i switch which way i sleep. i move myself back and forth and back and forth- my head is closer to the heart of the home or the outside. i recently switched back after sleeping for the longest time ive ever slept in one direction. each time its a reset. a decision. a desperate attempt at changing. somehow, this part of the ceiling looks like changing. it looks like hope. it looks like finding myself in the wreckage. it looks like the promise i made to the stars- i am ready this time.

#spilled ink #original prose #julyspeaks

i have crawled from hell but there is a fawn in the kitchen. it is small and weak and soft. it wants to be cared for, and in return it will lick the salty tears from my palms.

i am terrified of the fawn in the kitchen. where i come from, small and weak and soft things have mouths full of sharp teeth. they want to swallow you whole. i stand in the doorway and i watch it, it does not bite anything, only nuzzles its face against the dog. the fawn does not want to hurt anything- the fawn in the kitchen is not from hell. i reach carefully to fill a bowl with water so the fawn in the kitchen may drink. i may be afraid but the fawn in the kitchen is small and weak and soft and i can’t help but care for it.

my father and brother appear in the doorway as i extend my hand to let the fawn lick from my palm. they are bad men. they too crawled from hell but they crawled out violent. they are just as afraid of the fawn in the kitchen as i am- i can see it in their eyes. but they do not watch how softly it reaches towards me, or listen when i tell them it does not bite. they are men from hell. they see the fawn in the kitchen and reach for the knife.

#spilled ink #original prose #surrelism #tw: implied abuse #tw: implied animal death #julyspeaks

alls well that ends well but did it really end well if it’ll sit in my stomach for the rest of my life. did it really end well if when I’m walking through this house, all i see is the things you left behind. did it really end well if i see you in roadkill. did it really end well if i see you in advertisements. did it really end well if i see you in children’s toys. did it really end well if i see you in the mirror. did it really end well. did it really end.

#spilled ink #original prose #julyspeaks

i don’t know how to describe loving her. i could always use the classic cliche- i’d go to hell for her. hell for her. for her. but she knows that. it is a fate inevitable enough that it doesn’t mean anything. but i’d also go to heaven for her. i am a creature of hell, but i would be soft for her. i adore this girl so much i would let her coax the vulnerable and the good out of my body. i’d go to hell for her, but how could that matter if i’d follow her to heaven too.

#spilled ink #love #queer #original prose #julyspeaks

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i don’t bite at the gentle hand because i want it to pull away, but my body still holds all the memories i pretend to forget, and i think it always will. these are the instincts of the terrified dog i’ll always be, somewhere deep in my bones. even when i think im human again, i know, it’ll never happen.

#spilled ink #canine poetry #original prose #julyspeaks

i am only ever a girl for the archetypes i am forced to act out by the world around me. not a girl but always an almost dead girl. always the parentified daughter. always the manic pixie dream girl. always used to serve the story. never a girl but always mistreated in ways which are quintessentially girl.

#genderqueer #spilled ink #mysogony #original prose #julyspeaks

i am desperate to love someone in a way which is both soft and beautiful, even if i will inevitably ruin it. i long to forget that i was not made for soft things

#spilled ink #original prose #julyspeaks

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