a friend told me
i have a type
of man-shapes
i said yes -
she meant
the broad-shoulders-angular-face
i meant
my men
must be blades.
marina v., man-shape.
you know how the meteorologists can predict shifts in the weather weeks in advance based on a number of small signs that they can connect in a pattern - well you get like that as well - but with your own self. you learn to predict your mood, based off of little signs, like have you been dreaming and how do you wake up feeling in the morning and what kind of coffee you've been drinking and is your playlist on shuffle or are you listening to a single song on repeat, what jeans are you wearing and did you forget your umbrella this morning. see you learn to know when things are about to go bad in advance, you learn the signs well before your chest feels like it's collapsing and you can't breathe and hurting yourself seems like the only way out, you learn how not to get to that place where the world is already an enemy, already too much and already too heavy - you learn to ask for help while you're still ok, while you can still help yourself. you're a little bit like a great scientist darling - you need to learn your own language, you need to code yourself, observe yourself and learn yourself and then, then you need to fight like hell to save yourself. you're a little bit like a kick-ass agent on the bomb squad who knows how to diffuse a bomb, but also when to ask for help and when to run and hide; you're a little bit like a super hero who flies in and saves when everyone else has left. your illness can be your strength, but you have to get to know it better than you've ever known anything else.
marina v., insight.
findingwordsforthoughts reblogged
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k15
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k16.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k17.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k18.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k19.
findingwordsforthoughts reblogged
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k15
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k16.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k17.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k18.
you didn't grow because he hurt you;
you grew despite it;
&
imagine what you can become
if instead of hurt
you are showered with love.
marina v., stay away from men who speak love through pain.
i wish loving you
didn't feel like
breathing around a
knife.
marina v., the breakup poem #3.
i miss the way
our bodies
used to
fit.
marina v., the breakup poem #2.
i feel like you
died
and then i run into you in the street
and remember:
it wasn't you
it was me.
marina v., the breakup poem #1.
findingwordsforthoughts reblogged
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k15
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k16.
stop trying to control women’s bodies 2k17.
god, you make me wish i was smarter and funnier, more confident and better with words. you make me wish i was more; i was everything, i was the sun, the moon, the stars and the night sky, because baby you’re a whole universe; with rivers and oceans, valleys, and volcanoes, and secrets and belly laughter. you make wholeness seem beautiful. your happiness isn’t boring. god, you make me want to be ordinary.
marina v., the envy of gods.
you love,
you lose,
you become,
you die.
marina v., a lifetime.
i miss you
deep,
deeper,
deeper than that,
deeper than any place i can name,
deeper than pain,
deeper than myself.
marina v., i've lost me to missing you.
in a way
i am
over you,
and then again
falling asleep feels
like dying,
and i can’t seem to
wake up in the mornings.
marina v., infinite.
february 2 2014 -
the sky was powder-blue, and
the white clouds low, and
the air smelled like fresh snow, and
there was stale bread on the pavement
for the stray cats, and
vomit mixed with beer on the
corner of the street, and
my neighbor was outside for the first time
with her newborn daughter, and
the little girl was laughing,
clapping her gloved hands,
her cheeks red and frozen, and
there was a car crash near the market, and
everyone was fine and everyone survived, and
there was a concert in the evening
where a couple got engaged
(they’re divorced now, but were happy for a while), and
i don’t remember any of this, because you see
i was in bed all day, and
i was going to die on
february 2 2014 -
slice my wrists and bleed, and
bleed, and
bleed, and
stop bleeding, and
die, and
i made a practice cut, and another, and
another eight, and
then i stopped and watched my hands tremble, and
as i watched my hands tremble, and
tremble, and
bleed i decided that was it,
i decided it was time to stop, and
time to live.
on monday i saw my therapist, and
again on tuesday, and
again the week after and for weeks and months after that, and
i haven’t made another cut since
february 2 2014, and
i guess i wish a had a chip or something,
a thing to commemorate my second birthday,
the big one, the one i chose, the one i was re-born,
i wish i had a chip that said -
well done on surviving a thousand days.
marina v., october 29 2016.
i used to think that by
kissing and
biting and
marking
my skin
the men were taking ownership of
it, like maybe
their lips turned my skin into
their home, or their prison, like maybe
my skin only had meaning if they inscribed it, like maybe
every time a man left
looking back with a boy’s face,
i had to look for another/
poet/painter/priest/puppeteer
to birth me again,
as a saint,
with pale skin and dark bruises and cuts that never quite heal.
i didn’t look for lovers,
i looked for mothers and fathers,
for disciples.
i think that maybe
i may be
ready to take my skin back,
to inscribe it myself.
marina v., male hands | reclaim.
i don't think we need to know someone loves us,
i think we need to know they love us enough -
- enough to stay when it gets tough;
- enough to sit with us in the er, at the doctor's office, in bed at night when air in our lungs feels like fire and breathing is the world's most difficult challenge;
- enough to watch us sleep, and eat, and work and just exist, because our very existence is a form of magic and they want to see our being unfold, a painting painting itself, even on days when the artist is not present;
- enough to listen to the stories we've already told and laugh at the same jokes, enough to tell us they love us - over and over again, because words do not become worn out if you speak them right;
- enough to hold our hand when it is sweaty and look at rashes on our skin, enough to accept the not-pretty because they see so much fucking beauty surrounding it;
- enough to not hurt us, to choose us some days and other days to pretend they have, pretend well and lie well and sometimes dishonesty is a greatest kindness you can give to a human being,
- enough,
- enough for us to feel safe and loved, and the thing is
- enough is different for everyone, for some people it takes an ocean, vastness to be immersed into, for others it takes a river - direction and current and a sense of being taken away, and for a few, a few hiding in plain sight, it takes rain - some days we need a drizzle, others a shower that soaks the ground, and sometimes we need drought - to become again desert, sand and sun and scorched ground, to go back to the earth we came from, to breathe in air that feels like fire and exhale flames.
marina v., gurf’a (the amount of water that can be held in one hand).
the world is on fire,
but to me it
feels like
warmth.
marina v., with you i’m not scared of anything.