Category: citizen trans* {project}
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History will remember, It always does, You can’t wash us away, Our lives are stained in, Permanent ink, Our blood never washes out, No matter how hard you scrub, You could never destroy, Every page we’ve hidden in our attics, And under our beds, Could never mend the scars, We so proudly wear, Could never…
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Broken blistered feet running across melting pavement Leaning toward an escape only a hair width away. Make your teeth a guillotine for their mocking fingers Paint your unfortunate face crimson with their shock. Tie the broken shell of the world with a victim’s sinew Clench shattered glass to indulge your mind to remember what’s been…
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Here’s the secret: you can’t, they can smell you like rotten eggs, like spoiled milk, the stuff you don’t want coming from the things that shouldn’t be there, and you see, that’s where the problem lies, in your want of absence, because it means that you cannot take away to hide your vulnerabilities, your shiny…
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Soon it will be as though we never existed. I did the dishes and swept the floors and vacuumed the carpets and dusted the shelves and made the bed and paid the bills and put out the trash and wiped the counters and bleached the tub and sink … soon it will be as though…
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okay, but if men could get pregnant i’d kill myself. i mean, how would the baby come out? my dick? nah bro, hahaha. the harsh pitter patter of feet bounced off the walls within the depths of my core, attempting to drown out laughter that fell two octaves below my own. he said i’d kill…
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after Noah Baldino Halved, the body might resemble a geode, crystalline glisten after dirt. That is, of course, until it rots. A purple stone brought home to dry gray on the windowsill. On the train home I wonder, if I open myself, would yellow, white, all shades blue and red surprise me? What hides in…
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I wish I knew just how we got here but I had long ago lost hope. I’d been seeing the political arena play out in everyday street encounters. Those status-symbol oversized, overpriced gas-guzzling monstrocities of trucks sought to control both vehicular and ideological traffic by engaging in their own ticker tape parades, honking and screaming…
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my dad always wanted to be his dad but he wasn’t supposed to be his dad, who rummaged through scrap piles, exposing himself to unknown toxins that would spread throughout his body killing him halfway through his fifties my dad works nights as a glorified McAfee program for the Army my dad, though, was never…
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this body unrecognizable hands feel the familiar itch of crabgrass 3 layers deep the lungs remember sediment so meticulous woven into each gust and breath I cannot seem to recognize the face bred for beauty with hair butchered by familial fabric shears yet through the warped inconsistent tangible alteration these eyes remain the same craving…
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And just like that, I am Gregor Samsa waking up in the body of a bug. I am fourteen again, all big eyes and spindly legs and the ability to march in a line with the weight of the world on my shelled back. And just like that, I am Felix Hoenikker, too smart to…