Things I know to be true (3)

To say “consensual sex” implies that there is such a thing as “non consensual sex,” which there isn’t. That is rape. “Consensual sex” is just sex. That is what it needs to be called. There is only sex or rape. Do not teach people that rape is just another kind of sex; they are two very separate events.

He Was a Man Who Wore His Heart on His Sleeve

and how often i loved
to wear his clothes:
at first just a jacket when i was cold,
then an old t-shirt when mine were all new,
then a band hoodie i wore
as if it were his hand-me-down.
i’d put on his thermal
before we went to bed so i felt
like his twin; we both belonged there.
i opened his drawers every
other day to see which piece
of him i wanted with me:
his size, his style, or image.
most of all, i wanted
his smell.

nothing in the world smells as good
as the person you love–
no ocean breeze can bring the solace
washed onto his body,
no candle exists which ignites the warmth
burned into his clothes,
not a single cookie can satisfy the crave
tasted in his breath.

he wore his heart on his sleeve and i
stole his jacket: safety
in scary places, breath
between sobs, peace
on sleepless nights, love

at least until the scent i stole
begins to fade, then i’ll
give it back, with my scent on his sleeve.

r.m. // 2015

Week 1 – Art Experience – Landscapes With a Corpse

  
I thought this project was sort of eerie. At first I wanted to create a scene of my body washed up on shore next to my surfboard, but I figured I shouldn’t jynx the singular activity that has been so important in my life! It was incredibly interesting figuring out how to creatively create the angles to “shoot” my own death. I found the second picture set up to be more creative since I had to put the camera on a step below me and hang my toes off to make it look like I was hanging!!