Melt the girl
it took three decades to grow
watch
her
mold limbs
into a womxn of grit
and
tender
wishes
"We know when one part of the sea is hurt the rest of the sea will mourn with it." - KarKar Youth
Did they ask for consent?-
For the corner of her eyes
dripping cobalt tender
salt gold peitions
toxins in full bloom.
Did they ask for permission?-
For eating nautilus tongues
melting teeth broken
molasses choking
in your lap breath
taking.
Did they ask for drowning?-
Gutted
Rising
Your eyes
Your teeth
Your throat
Your na'au
Did they ask for this?
//
Text by: Aiko Yamashiro & Jocelyn Ng
Photographer: Shannon Momilani Ng
SFX MUA, Model, & Creative Direction: Jocelyn Kapumealani Ng
Last of the gutted
First of the beautiful
I once knew a queen that cried honey and sprouted flowers from her fingertips.
I think about her sometimes in August
when the sun feels like a waltzing inferno
and the garden begs for water.
I pull the beehive from my mouth
and sip on a chalice full of fire
burn the exit shut.
I've been trying hard not to let the ghosts linger too long.
What do I do when all the sweetness runs dry and all that is left
is
the
sting?
no caption necessary.
I've been thinking about cocoons again.
What inspires the caterpillar to emerge?
Is it simply patience, to allow chrysalis to shed itself over time?
Or is it sheer force?
The knowing that being stagnant for so long must end.
So it rips itself open.
Or is the caterpillar inspired by the flower?
How it emerges in blossoming.
Each petal, a wing full pf possibility.
I died 100 times
and on the 101st
I
Frankenstien
all
the
gods
in me.
Remember her
splitting
Universes.
Pulling you
t o w a r d
amnesia
F o r g e t t i n g
your own
name.
Is there anything
more deadly
than a heart
that'll make you
lose
your
self.
"Vincent van Gogh, whose depression, some say, was likely related to temporal lobe epilepsy, famously saw and painted the world in almost unbearably vivid colors. After his nearly unsuccessful attempt to take his life by shooting himself in the gut, when asked why he should not be saved, he famously replied, "the sadness will last forever." I imagine he was right." - Maggie Nelson, "Bluets" pg. 36 .
After Maggie Nelson's "Bluets" .
"Why do you paint your face such monstrous things?" He asks her.
"Because for a moment in time, I can show the world what the inside of this body feels like. I can show the world how even the villains we hold in us can be beautiful too." She replied. "
Because the bad guys have more fun?" He assumed.
"Because the bad guys are just the good guys that no one believed in or even tried to listen to" She said.
"So you paint to tell the other side of the story we all got? Is that right?"
"I paint because not all stories are told one way. Or are even told at all. Some stories are just a brush stroke open for translation. And most times I don't feel like a writer. I just feel like a woman with puddles of colors begging to cover skin."
When your mouth is a serpent,
men start to
warn their brothers
about Queen's
like
you:
Descendant of lilth,
Daughter of no god,
Sister of sirens,
Swallower of
worlds.
They don't know any better
but to fear your words like venom.
Little boys
grow up
imagining staples around lips and fangs,
Rather have you soft and silent.
Let
them
dream,
Because make no mistake,
You, womyn
Know what it takes
To bring a man's souls
back
from Heaven's gate
"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect for simple yet indispensable things." Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned (The Vampire Chronicles, #3) .
// I bathe in the blood of my enemies //
Enthrone me in chaos
Make me queen of this destruction
What does not kill me Crowns me immortal
Let all the little birds speak
I am feasting on crows
I am the vulture that clean their dead to the bone
Everyone wants to eat
But few want to hunt
No one taught them
When you point your arrows to a predator
Do not blink,
Do not miss,
Do not look her in the eyes
Because she will remember curve of your jaw the quiver of your lip the snakes rattling in your eyes
She will draw her next bath with your blood
Womyn like me are born a eulogy//
From birth man tried to bury us: In fear.
Trembling cold sweat organs
How much universe tilts in our wombs.
He will never understand power as pulling worlds from body.
How many of us bear a crown curated of our mother's mother's tongue.
All steel and salt and smothered in absinthe
All silver melted over memory.
We are a walking resurrection.
Do not bow down.
Kneel//
On blistering knees
With clasping limp hands.
It is too late to worship me. Instead
Ask for forgiveness
that I not haunt you
while still breathing
as prayer.
Call me king maker//
Drip me in sweat and watch me shimmer//
siren laced in luxury I am/
your Midas touch womyn.
[Aren't I worth blood shed of the nameless?]
Watch you claw a path to the lavish.
"I'll keep you all to myself"
Epitome of greed
Catalyst for wars
My body is what moves man to get his hands dirty
to sink fingers first into earth
and seek
my undying love.
Perhaps
the monsters are not creatures
Perhaps
our hauntings are not apparitions
Perhaps
this fear does not have fangs
Perhaps
what we are afraid of most is regret,
Perhaps
the silence is what crawls on webs,
Perhaps
missed opportunity is the demon's laugh,
Perhaps
you should've asked her name when she walked into the dark.
Perhaps
you stitched lips and forgot your tongue,
Perhaps
the heart suicide dived leaving a trail,
Perhaps
black coffee is the summoning spell
Perhaps
she's a witch like you
manifesting elixirs out of crossed
in paths mixed in
perhaps.
Let me serve you
all the fruits of my labor
Mouth full of cynanide/
I sowed Johnny's body in a garden row/
Buried him a seed/
I did the same to Adam,
blaming Eden's sorrows on Eve/
Conjure me the lump in his throat/
Put you to sleep/
Snow White/
I'll be your seven--
Deadly sins,
Hold
your
breath
Come darling,
Take a bite out of me.
