Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.
In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.
Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.
In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.
The third veil drops.
Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep
We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.
The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.
Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.
Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.
The sixth veil has dropped.
The seventh veil has dropped.
And Salome sat beside King Herod. And he swore unto her
“Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give to thee
unto the half of my kingdom”
And she smiled, and said
“Bring me the head of John The Baptist.
Punish the man who hurt me”
Anonymous said: Imagine Bucky and Steve finding out about some of the mental disabilities that didn't have names when they were growing up and in the process finding a stronger sense of self and community.
It’s called the DSM-V, and it has an entire article about Bucky in it.
Not by name or anything, but Steve knows how to read between the lines. Some of the criteria are things he’s been aware of since they were kids, and some of them are bright moments of realisation as memories of Bucky’s various quirks are dragged into a whole new light.
People with ADHD show a persistent pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity-impulsivity that interferes with functioning or development…often fails to give close attention to details…difficulty sustaining attention in tasks…easily distracted by extraneous stimuli…fidgets with or taps hands or squirms in seat…blurts out answers before questions have been completed…
Steve thinks the DSM-V would have been handy to have around when he and Bucky were in school, back when the only behavioural distinction their schoolmasters drew was between boys who sat still through their lessons and boys who would very soon wish that they had. By some mysterious convergence of natural genius and sheer good luck, Bucky’s school reports always came out with glowing grades - accompanied by bewildered and often acerbic commentary on his many failings of discipline. “He is a spirited young lad,” said one of the kinder masters. “His marked moral defect causes disruption to classroom order and to the progress of his fellow students,” wrote one of the less kind.
“You should read this,” Steve tells Bucky, handing over a stapled photocopy of the relevant pages - if they look more like a dossier and less like an actual book, Steve figures Bucky might actually pay attention instead of shoving them under the bed with the rest of his unsorted laundry and broken household furnishings.
“Sure,” says Bucky, and…doesn’t. As if the universe is determined to support Steve’s suspicions with as much evidence as possible, he promptly loses the print-out. Steve sets aside the temptation to feel frustrated and just reads the article aloud over a nice strong cup of coffee.
When he’s done, there’s a long moment of silence broken only by the rhythmic drumming of Bucky’s fingers on the table. “Well, shit,” says Bucky thoughtfully. “That’s…I dunno, I thought I was just lazy or something.”
He sounds perfectly nonchalant, but Steve knows better. “You’re not lazy,” he snorts, and leans over the table to give Bucky’s “You’re the hardest-working guy I know.” He takes in the barely-concealed look of skepticism and discomfort and hope on Bucky’s face and knows that there’s not going to be a conversation about this - not yet. Bucky has spent too much time and effort burying this to open it all back up now.
Later, though, the DSM-V goes missing. Steve finds it in the same place he finds Bucky: up on the secluded roof in a patch of warm afternoon sun, drumming his fingers unconsciously on the tiles as he pores over the book with his tongue between his teeth and a deep furrow of concentration on his brow.