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STUCK ON A FLOOR SOMEWHERE
1. When you break promises, they break you right back
On first listen, this opening track seems like a sonic sore thumb on the album, but both the song and its music video perfectly set the tone for what Mitski calls her “most American album”. And American (or Americana) it is, with the resonating, distinct twang of the pedal steel guitar and string instrumentation woven throughout the track…
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Kinship
Kin, not blood, but cut from the same cloth
When we bleed, do we bleed the same?
Do the colours run like tears, staining like heartbreak does?
Maybe we can smother each other’s wounds
Play the music too loud, drown out our silent cries
Maybe when we’re together, we’re enough
Maybe, we’re enough
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recipe for a smile
Written in 2017.
when you return, raise your voice to a whineand ask for your favourite dishaccept all her tittering about being late for dinner—“later pa scold you then you know”— make your wayto the stove, open all pots till you find the right onewhen she tells to add more soy sauce—“girl, not too much ah”—pour, stir and sneak a taste: “wah nice!”and remember to duck when a dish towel is…
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a day where nothing hurt
Friday morning, sky brushed lemon and tangerine—free-and-easy, they say, eager hands already tearing cotton away from feet. I toe the wet grass and sink into damp soil, morning dew clinging to supple skin. The earth rushes life into my body, a gut-pull urging forth my flailing legs as I round bodies that twist out of reaching hands, heart finding rhythm in breathes caught with mirth, chasing…
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broken dirt shards
the clock ticks to witching hourI make my bed on scuffed concretethe satellites wink heavy abovemy heart beats its response… – – – …nothing.street lamps bow in sorrowthe mynahs sound their mockingI reach out to the broken dirtpulling tender blades taut to will them solidfingers running down as they wish to bleedthe air serrated by whispered pleas.… – – – …… – – – …… –…
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Loop
you wake
you sleep
you wake again
the days are all the same
would it really have been different without the pandemic,
or was this capitalism’s inevitable end for you?
do you give in?
who do you become?
how so you resist?
where do we go from here?
there are people who I cannot talk to because they’ll make me face myself and I’m not sure I like who I’ve become
even with close, “safe”…
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spwm 2021 - week 3
spwm 2021 – week 3
Another week begins! I can’t believe I’ve kept this up.
Here, lifeSketch the story of rain and pages past tell of howling squalls and mournful storms,melancholy staining dirt windows, trite ennui washing cities in gloom and grey. I sayfuck the sadness.Hear the faint pitter-patter skipping on open umbrellas, the languid glide of makeshift fallswatering concrete, tender winds brushing weight off…
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spwm21 - week 2
more sadpowrimo here
updating as I go
hillside pyrespitchblack, rubber racingover gravel, spinning fastto whip tears into your eyes. afar,tangerine nectar flows sweet throughthe remains of spring, tributaries of devastationmade by tiny dancers licking across terracotta graves.the heat finds its voice in the chambers of your ears, a whisper,relish the smoke in your lungs and eat the ashes of your inhibitions.we have…
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spwm21 - week 1
spwm21 – week 1
sara, writing poetry again, can you believe? many thanks to the friends who have spurred this. I’ve been consistent thus far in churning out one every day but these are the few worthy of other people’s eyes. happy singpowrimo (or sadpowrimo for us lmao).
after: beach life-in-deathwhat do they say,that all the days bleed into one?shades of grey, fuzzy at the edges,canvases of nothing—hah.when I…
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Just me and the void again
It’s been a strange, strange year. I was made to spend more time by myself than I was arguably comfortable with. Not in a Mitski oh-god-I’m-so-lonely way, but moreso in a oh-god-I-have-to-confront-myself way. I don’t really know what has come from it.
I’ve had an okay year, really. Considering the utter shitstorm that’s happening all around us, I am blessed and undeniably living a cosy and…
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if only, briefly
I am told that we were never meant to know
all the ways a world can crumble, all the ways a continent
can fold onto itself, corners furling,
sweeping ruins into a flood. can the heavens hear our call?
we are lost to the grief. we are lost to the hollow
in our chests, breath caught,
there is nothing left.
still, we continue. our hearts, they beat,
we are alive. we are here to hold each other in…
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All we do is history
I’m a self-professed hoarder. I have no intention to make light of what is a legitimate mental health issue, but I do admit that I have a tough time throwing things away. Anyone who has been to my place knows that I just have stuff – old letters and cards, journals, diaries, notebooks, books, travel mementos, flyers and programme booklets – the list goes on.
It’s been nearly three months since I…
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Living
This ache I feel starts right in the centre of my flesh,
Travels down to seize my bones,
Down deep into the corners of my soul and oh,
Life is both pain and beauty,
A flower blooms as a dream dies as a mother weeps as a child laughs as
You learn how to put one foot in front of the other,
Moving through a world of fire and rain and sun and sky and storm –
Living with a heart of fire and rain and…
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remember who you are
I’ve always hated taking the train. It is too dark, too cold, too cramped – suffocating. And so as much as I can, I try to take the bus instead. On the way to school this morning, I saw that the trees along the roadsides were blooming once again, flurry clusters of pinks, whites, and yellows. They stood stark against the deep greens of the leaves and bright blue of the sky, little joys that took…
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and another
brief thoughts on 2018:
Gratitude
Above everything, I am so thankful to be surrounded by people who love and support me, throughout all the (arguably self-inflicted) chaos and madness that occurred this year. I am grateful for every opportunity that came my way, for every friend that stuck by me even in the moments where it was easy to hate me, for every mentor that nudged (or pushed) me…
