A Little Matthew While I Am Nursing Wasp Stings

Persian Poetics was suddenly shut down today despite the account being set up by an American citizen.

They need your help to build a website. Their works are essential because they have been providing accurate and good English translations of Rumi's poems to the world and they also help us learn more about other renowned Persian poets.

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My problem is that I live inside my head too much. I drag my life around like a raging demigod dragging a corpse, only no one will come at my door in the dead of the night to ease my fire. I bear a kind of weariness and discontent no sleep can satisfy because the world I wake up to is painfully dull in comparison to the ones I created in my head. I let my thoughts drift to far-off places, to unfamiliar landscapes I'll probably never set foot on just to shun the tedious sameness of days. I escape because I can't bear the vague nausea of being paper skin and hollow bones. I turn in on myself  because people and their expectations bruise me. There is no method in this madness but I will lie straight through my teeth if someone ever asks.

I don't know how long my body will tolerate this somnambulist life I live. There are predators in every world, and sometimes they are made of whispers from the void. What if one day I wake up standing on the edge of  a precipice? I'm scared I'll choose to meet my demons below instead of walking back home. You think you know all about it because I always write about the disquiet in me but my words don't conjure it the way it really is. The suffocation, the paralysis of the soul, the horror of the depths— all are lost in translation. But as long as I never let the dust get to my teeth I can swim back up. I let it gather on my tongue instead, and I use it to taunt  the bony hands in the abyss reaching for my throat.

It's not fair to feel like fading while remaining perfectly solid in everyone's eyes, to be as lifeless as a statue in a dark room while the party goes on just outside the door. That's why in this life there will always be trains I will run after, misty woods I'll dream of running into, and birds I'll stare longingly at until the clouds consume them. I scream these all in papers with a maddening frustration until my temples ache. I hope you know I don't wish to play god, I just want to stop burning.

— artemis, "Sleepwalking"

as an Iranian, I feel like I cannot stay quiet about this issue and must speak about it, women in Iran have been abused, disrespected, and killed for many years and I hate how much fear I feel every day for my family, friends and all the women that live in this country with me. this shouldn't be the norm. we shouldn't feel fear every day of our lives, we should not be forced to wear hijab and we have the right to be treated way better than this. My heart goes out to the family of Mahsa Amini, a young girl who has done nothing wrong and has been merely killed just because a goddamn scarf wasn't around her head. right now they've shut off the internet. in the city I live in the internet gets shut off every night around 7-8 pm and comes back up right around midnight or later in the day. during this time I've decided to watch the regular Iranian channels (IRIB TV) to see what they're speaking about and what they're saying is making my blood boil. they've been editing clips of protestors on the street, making it look like they've been the violent ones while when you search for the video online, the full clips shows you that they were defending themselves against the morality police that were attacking them. they're lying right in front of our faces with no shame whatsoever. it's disgusting.

if you want to help in any way, please share as much as you can about this situation and use the #mahsaamini so more attention is brought up to this issue. this isn't a one-time thing that has happened, this has been happening for more than 40 years. it has to end.

in Iran, we all feel stuck. we feel suffocated. we cannot go outside without wearing something that hides all of our body, because we will be killed. we cannot go outside and openly be a part of the LGBTQ+, because we will be killed. we cannot even protest without many deaths happening along the way.

be our voice, and share our story.

hello there :)

you’re this too

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

My country, Pakistan,

is one-thirds underwater and over 30 million people have been displaced, the largest amount since partition. Over 1000 people have died, hundreds of them children. Countless more are left without shelter, food, water, and healthcare. The climate disaster is real and achingly tragic, right in front of my eyes. It's swallowing my country up and I don't know when it will stop. Even when the flooding stops, its consequences won't be over. People have lost their homes, their loved ones, their livelihoods. Pakistan is doing its best which is not even close to enough, so donations are much needed.

Personally, I am not donating to any politically-affiliated flood relief funds, and given the political corruption in this country, I advise others against it. But there are good people, good charities and NGOs doing their best to mitigate the effects. They are on the ground (and in the water) delivering crucial aid to those that need it. It's important to note that at the time of writing, 1 USD = 220 PKR, which buys a lot more than you know, so every dollar really does count. Here is are some trustworthy organizations that I recommend, if you can contribute:

1. Alkhidmat Foundation Pakistan

2. Doctors Without Borders Pakistan

3. Pakistan Red Crescent

If you can, please donate whatever possible. If not, please signal boost, and keep Pakistan in your prayers. Thank you ❤️

I mean, it probably goes without saying, but the Found Family trope is so popular because so very many people are so terribly, terribly lonely

— Frank Bidart, from “Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016; ‘In The Ruin."

reblog if you respect ships you don’t like. 

I wanna see how many of you actually reblog this.