What Its Like To Be Me (a poem i wrote in a psych ward in 2018. a bit later my egg cracked & i became a trans woman)
you ever see a pro boxer corner another boxer, and throw tight rotating punches against his head like he's a speedbag?
bupida bupida!
all at once his head is frozen, and rapidly vibrating, numb and violently tortured. I want to do that with every superstring particle, but with my teeth.
Well, no... i just said superstring particle because that's currently the most-accepted elementary particle.
But there CANNOT BE an elementary particle, because that would mean on that GLORIOUS moment when i stopped bottling the sensations I take in, I would eventually have to put that lid back on, which I can't, because there is an infinity of Hate inside me.
