sleep deprived all of the time
i slumber for 16 hours
tossing and turning under comforters
and waking up hurts, it’s painful
it’s one eye squinting, just barely open.
the urge to scream hysterically
is hiding, just behind my rib cage
i am cradling it the chest, trying to hold it
back with my fingertips, trying to stifle
i am cooing
i am whispering
i am soothing.
i am persuasive.
but yet, it’s getting restless, starting to shift
around inside, setting back on it’s haunches
and it’s opening
it’s preparing to let loose
my mouth is starting to drift open
my lungs are expanding
my lips are revealing themselves
and my stomach is starting to rock with
the force of it, of keeping quiet.
one. i could spend hours rubbing the oil and dirt off my forehead with
a clean white tissue.
where does it come from?
i wash my wash 2x a day, i moisturize, i
thought that i was doing things right.
guess i was wrong, guess i was mistaken.
i feel like i’ve let my skin down.
things that make me think of you:
pop-tarts. not even pop-tarts but the generic ones
you buy at save-a-lot.
stupid beanie hats. not even the cool ones, but ones
with obscure sports teams on them.
the soldiers and sailors monument.
when you said in so little words that i
was adequate, that you liked what i had
and told me that my hair smelled like strawberries.
we’re adults, nobody still gives hickies
but my neck was sore and bruised
for days afterward and i didn’t know how to
feel about it.
III. i feel useless, i feel used.
i feel like i live for sad person things
i feel as though i get excited over
things weird people like
i don’t give a shit about the blood or
genomes that have found its way inside
i care about holding hands
screaming and standing up straight
and “remember when?”
plans through text messages, emails.
i care about making it count.
Dineo Seshee Bopape -tell me_____can you dispossess a void, 2013
fabric, metal hook
210 x 300 cm
“This is your life. This is yours. You can establish an exact inventory of your meager fortune, the precise balance sheet of your first quarter-century. You are twenty-five years old, you have twenty-nine teeth, three shirts and eight socks, a few books you no longer read, a few records you no longer play. You do not want to remember anything else, be it your family or your studies, your friends and lovers, or your holidays and plans. You traveled and you brought nothing back from your travels. Here you sit, and you want only to wait, just to wait until there is nothing left to wait for: for night to fall and the passing hours to chime, for the days to slip away and the memories to fade.”
it’s not enough
i will keep ingesting you
until i can’t even speak, till i can’t exhale
then i will do it all over again,
spilling calla lillies all over the floor
and letting red wine drip from my nose.
laying flat out with my ankles twisting up
but my side always aches,
it’s definitely in there and i will try to fill it up, i will
try to blow it away, i will stop
trying after awhile.
i will close my eyes, then open then. sometimes
i will blink, sometimes i will tear up,
but most of the time, it’s
Roberto A. Ferdman
The comical thing about this is they act like this is not a feedback loop. These programs often do not accept students who are interested in advancing human knowledge or have a commitment to justice because those students are viewed as “troublemakers” to the academe; ones who will sidestep hegemonic knowledges and epistemological processes, ones who don’t juxtapose “logic” and “emotion” as divergent enemies in an academic, ones who don’t think they have to be “objective” and divorced from the communities and subjects they study because they value lived experiences as a source of knowledge, ones who recognize holistic knowledge and don’t automatically read the acquisition knowledge as solely the activity of those White and/or male.
But nah, blame the greedy students that they do accept into these programs…you know, just like how Baby Boomers and Gen X think that Millennials are aribirtrarily self-centered and greedy when in fact most are just poor, hurt and confused in this current economy, for which they did not create.
Oh and…some of these students are from generations of poverty. Maybe thinking about a fucking salary to escape that isn’t all bad.
What do you think?(via soulbrotherv2)