Who knew that organs could weigh so much and absorb a city's abuses like Katrina or Flint
Repeated events like this can feel like fate
Where the question of "are you sure of what you put in your body isn't killing you?"
Or
"This is a personal issue"
But
whatever
new heavy metal is in season
Whether it's liquid or alkaline like, it still cakes on to your
Liver and lungs like that lover you want back but you remember all of the disasters that came along with the
relationship
All my goddesses are heavy metal
Because they were all burnt on hot irons at sea, in small villages, backyards with burning crosses and
borders so segmented that they split the body in two
But it still can live in breath and take in toxins and heavy metals
And don't that make you feel fucking expansive
Like my god,
Your body on mine and how I want you to melt on my tongue
Kinda heavy metal
This is your welcome party
This is your potluck
It is an orientation that you woke up late for and ran two hours late to and realized you missed nothing at
all
And the body sags at the wasted time of linens on ashen skin that you have to go 3.5 hours to touch and 27
doors and 1600 flights of stairs
To be reunited once again and It still doesn't feel as good as the lies you told yourself about how good it
would feel again
These are calculations for even how you have to strain to shit
Even the little that comes out matters
What about the Syrians and pain legitimate
When you realize the government and class collaborators and landowners
Heads of breeding
have always had a grip on yr uterus and you can feel it when it lurches and not when 'daddy' was a
metaphor but an actual apparatus of reproduction of stock
Me and you are the real diamonds people and other generations are forced to die for
Excavation as self critique so that you may feel the depth of your flesh and that light wounds can be mortal
too
Does your guilt keep others awake or is it just you?
Trusting yourself to be honest with yourself based on the fact that you are not that different from what you
are fighting?
When war makes a sound like that
How it keeps you up at night and how theory dies when it leaves your lips
Yes, Andy, I am cumming to this dizzying daze on how we can't have those nice things because who really
needs it?
Right, baby.
All my expansiveness is heavy metal
And it's not my business what you think about me
There can be a conversation in code but it cannot hide from what is happening
That there is a heavy metal upon the soul
We cannot rid of
Am I being detained and what warrants you here
We only mourn blacks who died for peace treaties and reasons that ultimately don't lead us to liberation
And don't let me tell you about the maroon blood that scares away the Indio skin that so many white
lovers have benefited from
"Yes, it's true. I can feel it when your fingers are inside me and right there. Yes, there, I'm cumming and
present. I woke up in the middle of it all."
There is a whole history of people lying about where they were born
And forgetting where they got married
Because the seams unraveled to quickly due to impacts missing in state records, county records but
apparent in body records
Breeding
Like
"I came upon this shore in heavy metal"
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Jasmine Gibson is a Philly jawn now living in Brooklyn and soon to be psychotherapist for all your gooey psychotic episodes that match the bipolar flows of capital. She spends her time thinking about sexy things like psychosis, desire and freedom. She has written for Mask Magazine and LIES Vol II: Journal of Materialist feminism, Queen Mobs, NON, The Capilano Review and has published a chapbook, Drapetomania (Commune Editions, 2015).
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