your brainwashed

  • Someone: I freely chose to follow the same religion as my parents!!! It's my choice!!
  • Me, holding their face softly: Darling, no. Just no. Your religion was hammered into your brain at an age when you couldn't distinguish reality from fantasy, when your brain development was at a critical stage and you were biologically programmed to imitate your parents. Your neural pathways were shaped by that one religion and now your deluded self thinks it was a free choice. It was proposed as the main coping mechanism for every traumatic event of your life, thus strenghtening its hold on your mind. You were brainwashed. The choice was taken from you and you are loving it.

We all have our insecurities. Belly, thighs, arms, hair, skin, smell. This year has been a body revolution for me. I can run, jump, work, make love, laugh, cry and so much more. My body is beautiful with its stretch marks, cellulites, fat and bones. It’s hard to find love for your body when society brainwashes people with fat shaming. 

You are beautiful and respected. 

https://www.instagram.com/kat.kram/

it is important to look at Mistress LOVE’s pictures every day… letting your mind become brainwashed into my little thrall… my mindless toy… isn’t it?

4

(insp.)

Oh, you’re disgusted by the Chinese dog eating festival? Tell me how that’s any different than any American traditions like Thanksgiving, etc. where there’s the mass slaughter of other animals that are equally as smart and capable of feeling pain as dogs? OH WAIT, IT’S NOT FUCKING DIFFERENT. Unless you are vegetarian or vegan, you clearly have your blinders on. It’s called culture- if you’re disgusted by the Chinese during this time, you should get out of your own brainwashed mind and be disgusted by American traditions too. Be angry about the killing of ANY and ALL animals. THEY ALL FEEL THE SAME FUCKING PAIN. 

“Her”

When you sat down to write and the word “her” left your tongue,
It felt like it had prematurely tripped and fallen to freedom,
For eternities you had convinced yourself that “her” just fitted the rhyme,
Or the melody better even though you thought “him” inside,
You told those around you that “her” was just easier to write about,
That the poetic injustice fitted the mold of what you were carving out,
When every poem and song became about “her” and not “him”,
Was the time you felt most like giving in,
For the words that you wrote with such pain, awe and emotion,
Felt forced or, worse, fake because they didn’t fit the notion,
That you had bestowed upon yourself without even knowing,
You had brainwashed your own mind into being afraid of showing,
The true meaning and concept behind every “her”,
Who’d have thought so much could come from a three letter word,

Now you sit down to write and the word “her” leaves your tongue,
With a skip and a bound now its story’s begun,
Now “him” doesn’t even cross your mind,
Not even while searching for that perfect rhyme,
For “him” could never be perfect when “him”’s not what you see,
When you close your eyes and think about how life could be,

All the tears that once dampened your ink-scrawled sheets,
Now fuel the desire to write what you mean,
And to be honest and open with those you love most,
No longer hiding in the shadows like a “him”-ridden ghost,
Now every time your hand connects an “h” to an “e”,
And concludes with an “r” you know it’s meant to be.