24 y/o queer northern feminist. thinker, dreamer, singer, writer, listener.
When I was a kid, they would take us out on the land a few times a year and do culture camp. At first, I loved it and would come home with whatever body part an elder would give me — whether that be a caribou hoof, a duck beak, or a beaver tail. It was the best. As I…
Today I wish I could crawl out of my skin
Or slice the extra bits off. Sand off the parts that are too big, like a sculptor perfecting his soapstone carving.
There is too much of me.
I wish I could go back to when I was sixteen,
I grew up seeing some of the most beautiful and vibrant skies our world has to offer.
I never knew how magnificent they were. I never appreciated those colours until I left.
There’s a lot about the Outside, or “the City”, that seems to dull my senses. It’s like you slowly start to lose yourself in…
Yes. Pain demands to be felt.
And sometimes, at 2:45 am, poems about your shit-ass hometown demand to be written.
It demands to be explored, even though you’ve explored a thousand times before.
When I first saw those brown eyes, that flashy smile, that deceitfully sweet voice, I knew.
Of course I knew.
Your type sets off the “run for the goddamn hills” alarm in my head. When bad boy actors method act in the movies, they are…