I received this email the other day. I liked it a lot.
My name is Caroline. I'm a fifteen year old girl living in Boston, MA interested in paiting, drawing, writing, singing, dancing, foreign languages, math, cities, clothes, feminism, food, and falling in love. Some of my favorite things are flowers, Frida Kahlo, pretty dresses, chocolate, long hair, and pretending to be a little girl. I found your Tumblr pages through Rookie, which I read obsessivley, and now follow your every post. I would love to be your slave.
After reading it, I responded.
wow i'm actually in desperate need of a slave right now... thank you so much for reaching out to me about this. it kind of worries me that your desired profession is that of slavery, but i won't argue as i encourage and believe in slavery, especially when the slaves are my own.
i hope i can one day consume your soul and eat your brain, lavishing in the brain juice that drips down my chin.
since you seem so keen to become my slave, and i willingly accept, i am also curious if you'd care to become a contributor for my collective The Wandering, which is a collective for art and written related things by teens. if you want to join the team (of my slaves) and become a contributor too, respond to this email from your slave cage that i just dumped you in, with a yes full of ardor or a no full of sullen angst. of a response with angst of any kind as i really enjoy angst.
all you would have to do is submit anything moderately creative (videos, poems, frozen vomit photography, etc) at least 3 times a month, but i always hope that my slaves will submit more than 3 times a month.
i also really like you and stuff because you are kind of really cool so would you also like to become a weekly diarist for Teenage Diary and submit a weekly diary on Monday, Tuesday, or Thursday about your life of slavery and angst and anything you care to type out and share with the world. i hope you say yes. you rock.
godspeed from a jew,
floating entities. liberal water. purple sunlight. fiery daughter. no need to fight. no need to die. i see your soul resting within your eyes. it burns it blazes it has a crimson glow. the curtain folds to end the show. the black and white tile. the endless rooms. a dancing man predicts your doom. a giant towers into the sky. his vows boom down far and wide. the moon glows white the stars shine through i see the light i see life too. you die to live you live to die i love to live i hate to cry. the voices shout within my head. ideas spinning weaving led- to life to freedom to happy endings. to hope to tears to desolate spendings. to mistakes to worries to escape and breath. to life to teendom we have everything left. our soul is our blanket our harness our aid our spirit is floating dulling our blade. the sun is my savior the moon is my anchor my ship is afloat, sailing till day turns to night. flight.
oh poems. i love them.