my mother opens the sunroof on a roadtrip at midnight and i don’t bother pretending that the stars are small enough for me to count. instead, i talk about how the closest star is 4.24 light years away and how the next closest star is 4.37 light years away and how what we see now happened years ago.
i talk about how small we are. how we’re spinning at an alarming rate but we are so incredibly minuscule compared to our planet that it’s okay. one of my brothers doesn’t care and the other is tipsy, so i’m pretty sure i’m trying to get through to myself more than anyone else.
i just forget that we aren’t important sometimes, i guess. i have the audacity to think i’ll matter in 4.24 or 4.37 light years when i’m too quiet, too human to matter now. i could die or sleep forever or never get out of bed again and all of the stars are still exploding, you know? earth is still spinning and the sun is still burning. i’m not really sure if this makes me want to thrive, or if i want to explode myself now
there are 7 billion, 47 million people on the planet and i have the audacity to think i matter (catherine w // sempiternalwriting)
There were these pure arresting moments when you stepped outside your head
Outside your pain outside control, outside the bullshit, out of body, out of rage
Outside the need to get it, get it, you will never get it, that’s okay
An open letter to the fat, arrogant, anti-charismatic, National embarrassment known as President Donald Trump Shit!
The man’s irrational. He claims that I’m in league With protestors in some vast international intrigue Bitch, please! You wouldn’t know what I’m doin’ You’re always goin’ berserk But you never show up to work Give my regards to Malania Next time you write about my lack of moral compass At least I did my job up in that rumpus
The line is behind me, I crossed it again While the president lost it again Aw, such a rough life Better run, tell Putin “Yo, the boss is in DC again” Let me ask you a question. Who sits At your desk when you’re in Mar-a-Lago Liz was calling you a dick back in ‘16 And you really haven’t done anything new since
You nuisance with no sense You would die of irrelevance Go ahead, you aspire to my level You aspire to my eminence Say hi to the Republicans And the spies all around you Maybe they can confirm I don’t care if I kill my career with this letter I’m confining you to one term Sit down, Trump, you fat motherfucker! [kazoo plays Hail to the Chief] Cool