Bruce & Minhkhoa By HO

i grow with the same aches and pains in the same way that the house that i spent my childhood in did - the precise address and house always changing but the energy consistent - with groans as the wind blows past in unrelenting fury, with shudders as the heat boils down and with wails and the rain pummels down on the sturdy rooftop.

i grew steadily, but somehow shakily, like the strong bamboo outside my window yeah survives the tumultuous semantics of weather, yet bends at the lightest touch of breeze.

i wish to be like these childhood homes. steadfast and clean in their pure and joyful energy. i hope and pray as i grow that i can shed behind the parts of myself that i despise and have almost outgrown of, and that i can build myself anew.

i miss my childhood home, actually. even if i moved often as a child. perhaps i miss the simplicity of it all, of life when the most strenuous thing was moving a few streets away.

this is insane

i'm actually going insane because what do you mean the lines blurring between the physical and the mental effects, the "groans and shudders and wails" that might as well be you crying in the language of a building

the bamboo metaphor is absolutely genius because there's so much to unpick. the absolute unpredictable nature of it all? the irony of being able to withstand the harshest things but breaking down so easily when you're vulnerable. no one understands why you're so volatile yet so calm, so emotional and yet an adult in the body of a child. matured too fast, just as bamboo does?? actually incredible you're a genius???

the way this reads like a prayer and a promise is actually making me sick in the best way possible. i love the way it's hopeful but also so tragic. the fucked nostalgia you're capturing is something i've always wanted to describe and the fact that you wrote about this makes me feel understood but. in a way i'm sorry that i'm understood. it shouldn't be like that.

i'm so glad you showed me this because what do you mean you became the stable architecture and you are the house and you are now trying to be the walls that you were never certain would stay up for long enough

i'm so sorry you had to go through this, and i'm sorry that we're both able to bond over it, as beautiful as this poetry is. i'm keeping this one close to me. i hope you can get out of the circumstances one day.

thank you. thank you thank you thank you.

My guilt will not purify me.

(Batgirl 2000 permanently altered my brain chemistry)

tamino and mitski photographed by ramy moharam fouad

and is your shame helpful? is it inspiring goodness and change? or is it keeping you frozen in time unable to move on and be everything you have expanded to be?

maybe if you had been made right, you would be better at being alone. if you'd assembled yourself out of the particulate, coagulating into amber and diamond - you'd be lovely and desirable. instead of pewter and hungry and anxious.

when she doesn't text you back, you should be normal about that. you should shrug and move on and get back to your beautiful life and your wonderful dog. when you wake up shaking, don't call her, don't beg for her attendance. if someone says i love you, aren't you supposed to feel warm and held and gentle. what is wrong with you that your first instinct is to reject: no, you don't, not really.

what is wrong with you. asking for help from your friends and loved ones is supposed to be a moment of connection and vulnerability. instead you spend hours preparing and weeks recovering. you've done all the reading and you know you are supposed to accept-love-as-it-is presented.

but still the internal questions, litany of the prey animal. do you still love me. am i still attractive. do you care about my interests. am i boring you. are you becoming distant. are you going to leave me. do you like me or are you just managing. am i telling you too much. am i bothering you. do you want me there. am i embarrassing you.

the problem is that your prayers have been right before. you loved someone and they hurt you and now the words sluice against the floorboards no matter how tightly you lock the door. you go to therapy and try to trust and try to be kind and try to assume the best. that everyone is honest and loyal. that you can be happy and alone and miss her but still feel easy, at-home.

it feels like waving a flag in front of a sinking ship. you hold up the scripture and research, preaching: i can do this. i am not going to let my insecurities and fears ruin another relationship.

all of the drowning passengers have your face. they try to say i told you so. i told you this is what ends up happening. their voices are swallowed by the water and the deep below.

Skip a beat in the bloodline.

Extra vers below:

I like this one better actually

Messy burger

and if i had to, i would wrench your heart out with my bare hands and hold it with a grace and gentleness that lies unbeknownst to me, to prove that i can still be gentle, whether it be through my violence or not.

thinking about cass & dick and being able to clock each other instantly.. or not being able to clock each other and freaking out. always the perceiver never the perceived. thinking about how they're two sides of the same coin, so close yet too far apart to meet, turning and turning yet never on the same plane. thinking about how they don't agree on much but they'll always agree on the belief in the world they're trying to protect, in the salvation they seek from penance, in the absolute precision of every movement, from the flick of a wrist to a twitch of their toes. they have two hands attached to their arms, one to carry sin and one to carry sacrifice, and they head out into the world in hopes of preserving the very thing that saved them. the thread of life ties them together and they offer to the world themselves, holy and whole.

are u okay you’ve been listening to chinese satellite by phoebe bridgers for two hours straight

okay but can we talk about run by hozier? it’s so beautiful, so ethereal, so HOZIER