Drug me and put me in a uniform, Your Honor, make me your sorry slave. They do so much for me, don’t they?
Tag Archives: poet
17- have it all
On Monday, my servants bring me platters of fruit. On Tuesday, they pour me rich rose baths. On Wednesday, I give a speech from the rooftops and bestow
Restore/Reorder
I’ve figured me out: I do something stupid or nasty then I feel bad. Then I punish myself. Like, I exiled you. Now I write letters to you
Rerun
I didn’t give into my baser instincts and turn the trees into people—for fifty years, at least, I kept wandering and writing you
I’m publishing a book (surprise?)
I have massive autistic PDA, meaning I really hate it when people tell me to do things. Do I’m not going to tell you that you have to go buy my book. I’m just going to tell you about it, and you get to decide
16- return
I got a new cloak of scales in shades of brown. I got a new bag made of a fuzzy bat demon’s wing, safe to mix a myriad of potions in above a myriad of flames. I even got a glowy crown from
Equity
If you give a fish to a dragon, they’ll eat it. If you give a fish to a demon, they’ll torture it. If you give a fish to a witch she’ll think she’s equal to the
Belonging
Yeah, Brisbane wasn’t alone. All the cities I found to the south: dead. All the towns I found: ghostly. All the life I found: snakes and bugs and possums and rabbits and bin chickens. So I flew back to
Equality
I filled Brisbane with a bunch of trees. Just, transported the whole forest one set of roots at a time. And I didn’t give into my baser instincts and turn them all into people
15- Diversity and Inclusion
Of the six trees-to-humans, none of them looked the same age. One had gray hair and wrinkled skin a lot like bark. One looked only a few years old, with chubby cheeks and a protruding belly. One looked like both,
Jordyn Saelor 