Fuck Our Excuses

Fuck our healing crystals
blood diamonds with dark histories
of human labour exploitation
and environmental degradation

Fuck our feminist slogans
on t-shirts sewn by aching fingers
of women trapped in slave positions
capitalism’s incarcerations

Fuck our body positive platitudes
while bodies of hundreds are held on islands
waiting to be processed and kept like cattle
while their will to live completely crumbles

Fuck treating ourselves at cafes
on feasts of flesh of tortured chickens
their lives worse than any horror story
hideous suffering ending brutal and gory

Fuck our privilege
Fuck our silence
Fuck our complacency
Fuck our complicity
Fuck our selfishness
Fuck our excuses

Fuck our low expectations of ourselves
Fuck our whole goddamn system

Let’s burn it to the fucking ground
Let’s start again and be better this time

Do I sound like I’m joking?

Let’s burn it to the fucking ground
Let’s start again

I’m really not joking.

We’re better than this.
We must be better than this.

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as long as we breathe

While the ice is melting
and our lands are burning
and our forests are dying
and our oceans are choking

the fight for hope
is daily
the fight for life
is dire

When we were young my love
our old age was assumed
now I look at your face my love
and my heart fills with fear

hold on to my hand my love
the only truth is change
hold on to this life my love
as long as we breathe… we try

Please

Your tone speaks menace
my heartbeat quickens
I’m afraid of you and
addicted to fear I’m
afraid they’ll be
empty threats

hurt me
I silently plead
please
my body begs

what good is this flesh
without purple red brutality
what point is this mind
without torment and terror

“please…”

the word slips out
you laugh
you stop

“Remember, this isn’t about you.”

oh fuck I swear I
never forgot it’s just
I just

please?

please?

a little less

(Note: This was written for a desktop and formats badly on a mobile phone.)

Maybe I could try a little harder to be a little less
suck in that gut pin up that skin oil those surgery scars but
the makeup can’t conceal the way recent trauma aged me
and I can’t always avoid eye-contact

What I could just do is speak a little softer
less opinions whining contradictions and fuck shit cunt words
the problem’s that the stuff piles up under my tongue then
spews out sudden dishevelled tangles of my truths

Perhaps I should take my clothes off less often
stop the cock sucking pussy licking arse bruising and forgetting
who I’ve fucked blurred boundaries are my comfort zones the
bearable lightness of being spread wide open

It could be that I’m tacky for loving in multiples
spreading my too much too thin too many partners a gluttonous
abundance needy greedy helpless I just can’t shut love up by
covering my ears and screaming only one name

Maybe I could try a little harder to be a little less
or maybe I just need a bigger house.