Unorthodox Erratic Talk

This is some cool shit

(Source: tinkeperi, via artcoloredglasses)


i’ve got turned up cabbages

and a torn out harvest

protruding from my center

a place where i go to touch, sometimes

they hold me there,

trying to revitalized my dead body

the bareness of my empty

seemed like ghost had came by now

and got the best of my loveless kisses

choruses out in screams, and hair burnt white


touching me smooth,

stroking me deep

Devil makes a mean pot roast

wholesome with his full foot

i choked it down into swallows

i make me good and full

(it rains here sometimes, in autumn)

and i catch, with big wide open hands,

all my teardrops

careful not to drown

in puddles of my quick fear

careful not to land in the pit of broken leaves

that are soon to frost over

i can’t tell if the rain is clear,

or blue

and if i am still here

if i bellow out my destitute

will it diminish into depths

of sour tongues, coated over

with the sweet mornings of may

(Pastor dressed up on Easter Sunday)


i sat, and let the tears patter down

on the rooftops of my head

(i am coupled whispers)

the taste on dangerous lips

touching me smooth,

stroking me deep,

i am quiet, and still

cold and bitter

there are waves crashin’

sendin’ rivers turnin’

and oceans swingin’ into gulfs

where i lay my naked babies

in the water of an old song

easily lost in submergence

i admire their lifelessness- (in adoration)

i am quiet and still

cold, stark, and bitter

it’s the brink of dusk

harvest time has come


-Naomi S. Daugherty


I’m kind of tired of talking about trans women being killed at a disproportionate rate but it just keeps happening. And we’re not doing enough about it.

Laverne Cox

(Source: djsoulchildd, via therummagesale)


Naomi S. Daugherty

Watch wistful white kisses

diminish down depths of destitute-

 sing my rhythmic freedom,

i’ve got blood cuffed ‘round my neck

(rings of burnt lines)

sour hunger,

and ungratefulness

keep me like they taught you

with smooth touches and deep

strokes holding together, breaking honesty. 

The love of mine-

All gone, burnt up, far from

you now

real dead, deeply blue

keep me like they taught you

knives hung over pure white snow

rough ravished and touched

destroyed, like you

keep me like they taught you

haunting me, with chilled hot eyes

(choking everything)

swallowed up on bitter salvation

swung down, deep down

bitter, emptiness

it rains here sometimes,

in May

in no man’s land

i sit, and let tears patter down

on the rooftops of your head

i sit

you stand in puddles of quick fear,

and lust

keep me like they taught you

i feel coupled whispers round dangerous lips

touching me smooth

stroking me deep

i’m quiet, still

keeping me like

I taught you

my girl reise got a talent with the lens

my girl reise got a talent with the lens