In Benaroya Hall and Bush Garden
TW - transgender violence, hardcore ableism
Purple haired I want to feel the elated
Comrades eyes gazing your flesh, their peniles sharp and dripping
My father came into the bedroom, curled onto me, whispering my identity
He called and the psychologists who examined my flattering hands and quaking skull entered
opened their bag arisen a pig bearing one dunce cap
Slapped me. My arms not flattering and pig bite me
Psychologist shrouded the bitten body to a crystal-is
I felt dead and my father approved and advertisement flashed a thumbs up ----
When my body grabbed the hammer and the advertisement screamed
Father fled. My body did not stop bleeding.
My penis had the marks of father and the pig and psychologists who burned a branding “male” onto the flesh I am then burned every skirt and dress I possessed during mother and phantom of Purple Haired tending and cleaning the dry house that my father said he worked so hard to acquire.
He had advertisement teach me where my penis was supposed to go and where it was forbidden and how it was a symbol of something that father and the pig and psychologists desired me to become; I was to not be a faggot and I was to never cry or keep my hair long like the weathermen who bombed politicians and their descendants in black clothing that the master feared.
I shaved my face and I had cuts. I don’t want to fuck Purple Haired like a male. I am not a man. I am non-binary trans femme and I am not who the master desires out of my body. I do not want, hate, to refer her as “Purple Haired” like a commodity made for fucking. I refuse to ask her to fuck me because of me being Autistic and ask her many times until she fucks me. I would hate for us to be an extractive relationship where I vent my feelings at a body that I fuck and fail to acknowledge that body as a human being. When she is outside with a cigarette and me watching the roof fall very slowly like a dazed dream thinking about work the next day, getting misgendered by almost every customer. Where every time we are together we both dream to be on the field, alone, running fast without master or worry that we need to be exploited to even survive in this world.
I want to have a relationship with her that permit for our vibrant femme energies to flow.
Where we as comrades turn the mall into a field
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