here first. until we are there.

to which the tongue holds

Reading this, my fascination for slash writers (and people for that matter—confusions across races, cultures, religious, genders) really is as simple as looking for the same uncertainty to which i cling. Especially as I have claimed, to eternal ribbing, that my mother tongue is a foreign tongue. And even as I straddle two cultures (or three or four, but know that I am knee deep in class perhaps more than anything else) I wonder if my tongue (the one that speaks English without an accent, speaks Tagalog too loudly, and has always stumbled in both for that matter) is unable to speak because of this willful allegiance to the wrong womb.

oh how the mouth bears for so briefly, what the womb must nurture for a lifetime.


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