Pinned toot
Pinned toot

I should probably post an introduction to pin on my profile but at this point I'm just like "pls support your local magpie poet, she likes ramen and eggs and shiny things and will give you words in return."

Also

"Eater of hearts currently rebuilding her empire of mugs in a non disclosed location that is no longer London."

Or maybe just.

"Tired poet does words for you whether you like them or not. Is soft please don't startle."

Yeah that'll do.

I created a twine poem last year called Girl Pixel and it surrounds some relationship structures between gender and gaming culture.

corvusrobotica.itch.io/girlpix

CW: the background is violently pink and will change your colour perception for a while.

I LOVE YOU SO I DON’T TOUCH YOU
I DON’T TOUCH THE PARTS OF ME YOU
HAVE TOUCHED WITH THE LIGHTS OFF SO I
DON’T SPEAK FOR FEAR MY TEETH
WILL KNOW MY TONGUE
I LOVE YOU SO I BECOME AN EMPTY ATTIC
A FIRE
I AM THE BUTTONS ON A WEDDINGDRESS UNWORN
I AM UNLOOKING AND WINDOWLESS
I LOVE YOU SO I BECOME A BELL
UNRUNG

A sound poetry piece for a uni assignment

soundcloud.com/user-843152372/

Abandoned radio stations tuning in and out of your car radio as you're driving through the desert

There's actually a superstition about this.. That if a person were to trick their dog (like we pretend to throw balls but really don't, or hide treats) then the dog would in turn trick them on the journey to Mictlan, and not help them cross the river, leaving their owner to get across themselves or wander in purgatory forever.

So.. yknow.. Be nice to your puppies.

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In the future, when commenting on someone's selfie, please use one of the traditional approved Mastodon responses: "Go off [preferred monarch title]", "😍", "I'm gay"

A sound poetry piece for a uni assignment

soundcloud.com/user-843152372/

Abandoned radio stations tuning in and out of your car radio as you're driving through the desert

The leaves are falling from the branches
of my rib cage. I lay on the bed
and the pit of me is hard and unyielding
but the fruit around is red with rot.
I laugh into the void of the night and dream
of men and women who curl around me
like snakes. I would have liked do be devoured
like this one day. Loose limbs and
sweaty breath. I ache where summer once grew,
now I have plucked all the forgetmenots,
I have eaten all the peaches.

I am sat with him now while he looks upon my poem,
I don’t know what plush penguins think of poetry
nor do I know what to name this feeling
of my adult chest resting where my child chest used to rest.
But I have slept better these last few days,
that is all.

2/2

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Pablo.

My childhood penguin was returned to me some days ago
and I have slept curled around him,
not like a promise made and kept,
but like a deep sigh released. How deeply I know his shape
that has been fattened with new cotton
and his eyes sewn anew so he may look at me while I sleep.
I clutch him at times in the day and he is
a song to my heart, coaxing it out from the depths.

1/2

Bleach burns like family on my scalp,
it brightens it all up.
Suppose I never believed the people
who said it wasn’t supposed to hurt.
It’s my mother who sections my hair in the late 90s
and then she does her own hair,
the frizz perm she used to have yellows.
I am a bargain bin wasteland barbie, in my own hands
I turn into a doll again. I smear girlhood
pink all over my face.
Lighten up,
it’s only play pretend,
we put on
and it burns a little. But it’s supposed to.

A laptop on the bed
is the shape of my womanhood
I can be everything
you desire. I can flicker
and turn on. I can reveal my deepest nodes
I can be yours
I can be yours. I can never be flesh.

I’ve carried love like a grudge before,
when I said I’ll bury it, I’ll let it go. It grew
unwatered in the pits of me.
I can’t look at him straight in my memories
without forgetmenots blooming
under my eyes. At some point this love
outgrew me like ivy, and nettles.
I am an abandoned house,
and he still echoes in me in the shape
of greens.

My heart is the shape of a wishbone
you just had to devour all of me
to get to the bit that lets you break something
just to get what you want.

My heart is the shape of a wishbone
you just had to devour all of me
to get to the bit that lets you break something
just to get what you want.

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