Savaged by savage time Ravaging my eyes with lines that count time like Rings measuring a Tall tree’s life. My body is slowly disintegrating It’s borderlands and curves already hinterlands Cold and desolate valleys where none shall journey Creaking bones turning to powder and gum Skin, cracked, and drying out, mummification Lips, sores, gums receding Seems time and space retreating Doom has you kneeling All shall heel the endless wheel Time Empty ghosts inhabit these bones Flesh cringes at the thought and Memories of past touch and past healing This Time is slowly taking Me to pieces How can I Be at peace With this Inevitable end unbearable mind Half risen from divine brine Dipped in mortal slime The slime is time, It eats all sides Slow or rapid, Fast decline Look into my eyes, see past the lines and their lies Don’t mind the bags, just moisture that sags I know drink some water, okay? Lying lines of moisture misery, misting Don’t be absurd child. Beauty fades. Power is forever. Ambitions are laid bare Sitting in my underwear Skin peels, bone flakes, insufferably beautiful this decay, this face I … don’t know where good girls go. But I’ll see the rest of you in hell.
Collect Call from A Certain Death, you Will Accept the Charges
TW: homophobic language, death, AIDS epidemic,
CW: death, cancer, classism, contemplating one’s own absence, institutional Homophobia, homophobia, transphobia, hate, classism, poverty, death, AIDS, the holocaust
I am a woman, but soon I will be just another Dead fag Like Lovecraftian space aliens on rubbery fungoid Wings from the sky, we revert to our True forms when we die Because all queer people born after 1969 Become instant dead faggots when they die I don’t lie. Spontaneous blasts of red tape and crying And then POOF There, it is there, that the dead faggot lies Can’t complain any more, or get high Can’t wonder why no one fucks her more Can’t puzzle through another weird human norm Just lay there, waiting for the oven to warm Dead faggots go in ovens, unless in life They were white upper or middle class Actually fags The kind that own land Then, when they die, not much changes as You would surmise but instead they get carted to their land and thrown inside. Plots of land are for those with status, money, and Maserati driving things Tick tock, still a lady but soon the thugs who collect Dead faggots and chuck them in ovens Will be coming They will be soon
Princess Gwen, Shameless Fat Cow of the Fat Rat Patrol
TW: Animal comparison, fatphobic language, implied Domination, graphic Sex CW: Fatphobia, implied death, sex, sex work
My body is, delight, a forbidden country. I am queer, transgender, a women. More important, than any of these outlaw, blacklisted, mostly under advertised qualities, I am FAT. I am fat, I am here, and I do not care. I will take up sufficient space Anywhere. I deserve to Be and have the right Cross the line and I will obtain my full satisfaction when I Verbally, mentally, and emotionally, take it out of your hide With my quick wit, razor tongue, and foul dirty filthy mind Should you cross, incur, or disrespect me or mine. I fought so hard to own this body and now That I have total control and total care, I do not have or entertain spatial, universal time Or fleshly, thinky space to explain, Why your bullshit about fat people has no place In my mental or physical spaces I control, will patrol these borders – my law I will maintain Behold my naked fat, my totally exposed tits. You can’t see my ribs, even if I’m bouncing up and down like this. Even on cam or in your face My tummy is fat it hangs down and takes up extra space. When I’m down on all fours like now, I have a stomach that drags like actual damn cow. Moo. Stare at me whatever. I’d like to see you do better. IT’s something else, the thing That you can’t conceive is that I love being me. I love my tummy and tits and big wide ass Either of which I could, would maybe smother and kill you with. The cow is a spider, her venomous milk attracts tricks like dogs draw fleas Venom in her milk Long skinny legs and big cow gut this fat assed tranny chick is going to fuck you right up Your girl, your boy, your old lady, the guy you fuck but kind of want to bail on , They are all everywhere up in this cow Round, she waddles, soft and unstoppable. Lift my udders and cream my tummy, let it drip down, butter my rolls, Carry over, I increase as you descend.
Trans queer poly kinked, mad, and Proud, . The Maenad (She/Hers) is a transgender goddess who writes poetry, prose, creative non-fiction, rules, and essays. . Her work has appeared @gutslutpress, @lupercaliapress, @fahmidanjournal @redplanetmag @wickedgayways @365tomorrows, the Gongfarmer’s Almanac and Madwomen in the Attic. Her first chapbook, the Ishtar Cycle, is forthcoming from @LupercaliaPress
An independent DIY e-publisher, model, camgirl, and sex worker, the Maenad writes about gender, class, sex, inequality, mental illness, and the intersection of these points, sometimes also writing about culture, games, space, futurism, and the human condition. Thinking of other worlds and how best to help this one
