jude

gay trans poet | he/him | all work is mine

[tragicallyterrestrial]

"mi media naranja" (literally: "my half-orange") to mean "my husband" or "my wife" etc.

since no two oranges are identical, each half-orange only has one possible match. in this view, "media naranja" isn't just one's mate, but also their perfect match, something of a soulmate.

and now i stand on the precipice of understanding the world i was born into and the double edged knife of love. hand on my heart with love. hand on my heart with rage.

and now thoughts are all i have left and they're episodic and they toss and toss and turn in my skull

a half orange: when you open a bruise big enough to hide in are you allowed to believe for a second you're not bruising? when you stand in the rain and greet winter could you pretend that you don't tremble like a tree with no roots to keep it steady? when you spit out the salve of shame and realize it is buried in the heart of you and is sputtering, is it too late to ask it to move somewhere else? when the connotations of rain and war are suddenly one and the same and you cannot hear the thundering anymore without two hands to your ears, what then?

a half orange: i ask november to go easy on me. i ask it to realize how far this skin has carried me even under the subtext of self wounding.

every winter i have to gurgle and spit out what it means to be marked

my home can't hold me anymore because my home can't hold itself anymore because an entire nation spat acid at "home" and chose to look away

i'm dizzied and writing this with shaky hands

a half orange: my flesh is too heavy with a past i can't remember clearly so i try to tear it off of me. i have never been able to accept someone saying i love you without turning it over in my head. what does it mean? what does it mean? my heart is a lake people jump into and make ripples that go on and on and on

and then they forget to get out. now i have people lodged into my throat like bodies in water

do you think bones feel longing worse than the heart? do you think that something can haunt you without you haunting it back? do you think that i've lost the narrative completely?

"mi media naranja" i say - and quieten the war with the half orange that is me.

[fuchsiamae]

an incomplete list of unsettling short stories I read in textbooks

the scarlet ibis

marigolds

the diamond necklace

the monkey’s paw

the open boat

the lady and the tiger

the minister’s black veil

an occurrence at owl creek bridge

a rose for emily

(I found that one by googling “short story corpse in the house,” first result)

the cask of amontillado

the yellow wallpaper

the most dangerous game

a good man is hard to find

some are well-known, some obscure, some I enjoy as an adult, all made me uncomfortable between the ages of 11-15

add your own weird shit, I wanna be literary and disturbed

[repulsion-gel]

The Tell-Tale Heart, The Gift of the Magi, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calavaras County, Thank You Ma'am

[allyitis]

the box social by james reaney. i remember we all had to silently read it in class, and you would hear the moment everyone reached the Part because some people would audibly go “what”

[fuchsiamae]

wHat did I just put my eyes on

[schrodingers-rufus]

“The Veldt” by Ray Bradbury

Not quite a short story, but read in class: “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” from The Twilight Zone

[w3rewolf-th3rewolf]

Harrison Bergeron, Cat and the Coffee Drinkers

[rebel-against-reality]

“Where are you going and where have you been” by Joyce carol oates

[actuallyapathy]

“The Pedestrian” by Ray Bradbury

[asexualzoro]

the lottery by shirley jackson

[eccentwrit]

i can’t believe Roald Dahl’s “The Landlady” wasn’t already mentioned and also it’s not so much unsettling as more absurdist but “The Leader” by Eugene Ionesco definitely made me go wtf

[idlewildly]

Ett halvt ark papper. I cried so much.

[bravinto]

Ночь у мазара, А. Шалимов

[siderealsandman]

A Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury

[insanitysbloomings]

I Have no Mouth, and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison

[felderwin]

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

All Summer in a Day by Ray Bradbury 

[was-once-somewhere-else]

Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby, by Donald Barthelme

[jeaniefranklins]

I read Ray Bradbury’s “All Summer In A Day” in seventh grade (it wasn’t assigned, I was just going through my textbook for new stuff to read) and as a bullied kid with SAD, it Fucked Me Up.

[sanguinarysanguinity]

An Ordinary Day with Peanuts, by Shirley Jackson

[real-faker]

Eh, this was more like community college, but The Star by Arthur C. Clarke

[scarlettaagni]

Lamb to the Slaughter by Roald Dahl

and this story that I can’t remember the name of and can’t find, though it might be by O. Henry? it’s about a bunch of demons who want to stop Santa Claus from going through with Christmas, and he must travel through the mountains they inhabit to escape their vices? (good christ I can’t remember the name for the life of me)

[ghostloner]

Ok but the laughing man and a good day for bananafish but j.d. Salinger

[nitrosplicer]

The City (195) Ray Bradbury. An intense commentary on colonialism and space exploration. I read it for a sci fi survey class.

Another short story I read in that sci fi class was Vaster than Empires and More Slow (1971) by Ursula K. Le Guin. A commentary on humanity and how human we believe ourselves to be. Also, an interesting commentary on mental health.

In the Woods Beneath the Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom, written in 1947 by Ango Sakaguchi. It made my skin crawl the first time I read it.

Also going to recommend For A Breath I Tarry by Roger Zelazny, a commentary on whether AI can become human in a future without humans: http://www.kulichki.com/moshkow/ZELQZNY/forbreat.txt

[cryingalonewithfrankenstein]

whoever posted “The Laughing Man” and “A Good Day For Bananafish” is Correct

[fluffmugger]

the scarlet ibis

marigolds

the diamond necklace

the monkey’s paw

the open boat

the lady and the tiger (I assume you meant Stockton’s The lady or the  tiger?)

the minister’s black veil

an occurrence at owl creek bridge

a rose for emily

the cask of amontillado

the yellow wallpaper

the most dangerous game

a good man is hard to find

The Tell-Tale Heart

 The Gift of the Magi

The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calavaras County

 Thank You Ma'am

The box social 

The Veldt

The Monsters are Due on Maple Street

Harrison Bergeron

Cat and the Coffee Drinkers

Where are you going and where have you been

The Pedestrian” by Ray Bradbury

The lottery by shirley jackson

The Landlady

The Leader

Ett halvt ark papper.

Ночь у мазара, А. Шалимов

A Sound of Thunder 

I Have no Mouth, and I Must Scream 

All Summer in a Day 

Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby

An Ordinary Day with Peanuts

The Star 

Lamb to the Slaughter

The laughing man 

A perfect day for bananafish

The City (link goes to compendium of short stories)

Vaster than Empires and More Slow (1971) by Ursula K. Le Guin.

In the Woods Beneath the Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom 

For A Breath I Tarry 

[the-prince-of-tides]

All of Flannery O'Connor’s shorts.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior-deactiva]

I didn’t read it in a text book, but “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” haunted me for life.

[tragicallyterrestrial]

inventory of worshippers' offerings - atlas

[risha-png]

"only you can show me this"

[forlornpariahs]

moonlight peeking through the sullen tree,

you might just be brighter than the sun for me

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Ocean Vuong, from ‘Thanksgiving 2006′, Night Sky With Exit Wounds

[potatoweaves]

"Loving you wasn't a mistake, you've made me into me"

Nightshade_pretty on Instagram/Noah Kahan/Madds Buckley/0.633pm on Instagram

[patronums-deactivated20250730]

weekend cabin trip by the lake with s’mores and vile disgusting sex ???

[decaffinated-dreams]

It is November. The year on its deathbed. I have outlived my body so many times these months. Like wildflowers in concrete, I am trying to grow between the syllables of my name.

[kazimirovich]

[fleurduart]

Leo Putz, Vanitas, particolare

[boyhood]

Dario Robleto

The Common Denominator Of Existence Is Loss

2008

50,000-year-old extinct cave bear paws, human hand bones, stretched and pulled audiotape of the earliest audio recording of time (experimental clock, 1878), 19th-century mourning ribbon, bocote, shellac, glass

42¾" x 47 ½" x 47 ½"

[msvhs-deactivated20251231]

Look Back/ルックバック, dir. by Kiyotaka Oshiyama (2024)

[freshmoviequotes]

Stalker (1979)

[existential-celestial]

David G. Benner

[tragicallyterrestrial]

inventory of worshippers' offerings - atlas

[tragicallyterrestrial]

BLUE AND GOLD

dear stranger i made eye contact with at the gas station mini-market

i think i was dancing, i'm not sure.

the cashier slid my gum and dollar store liner barcode

she looked back at my face covered in blue glitter eye-makeup - smeared all over my face like a flat palm had just been smothering it snuffing it rubbing it in and maybe that's exactly what that was but i don't think we're close enough for this

she looked at my jaw that was too sharp and my body that was too angular and my hunched back and i gave her my biggest grin. she recoiled - i think i scared her. stranger,

had i scared you too?

i let a hiccup loosen and hoped she'd know i was drunk enough for what i was about to do next

i twirled and twirled and twirled

and twirled and you know i always liked that about being publicly sedated. you could do anything you wanted and blame it on the alcohol warming your stomach and people would just brush you off like lint off their jackets. you could walk someplace and scream loud as anything and go 'it's alright. i'm drunk. don't call the police yeah? this isn't who i am. i'm just drunk.'

i don't think i'm hiding behind it, you know. i just think that it's exactly who i am - a he she they it twirling by a cash register with fingertip marks around my neck glowing uv blue.

i was with some guy before deciding to come by the gas station market and stuff my face full of sharp cinnamon gum. think he had a thing for he she they its, ha. he'd twirled a curl between his fingers and grinned like a kid underneath a christmas tree. kids never care to gently unwrap gifts, you know? they tear them into bits in all the excitement because the gift is where it's at and forget the wrapping flat on the floor. he was no kid, stranger, but he acted like one. know what that means? it means that he'd expected a gift to be waiting beneath the torn wrapping paper but it was just a void. it was just a void. it was just a void. it was just a void.

was that my fault? i'd let him down, i think. he'd grabbed me by my neck when he realized i had nothing to offer and thrown me off the bed because his gift box was empty and i hurried into the bathroom to hurl my guts and then calmly change back into my party clothes (they have stars all over them, you know? they glow uv blue too) and by the time i was out he was mumbling in his sleep and

the sheets were on the floor

i was used to walking out of storms just as well

i ran down to the store

i held my drink in a paper-bag and i held it close to my fucking heart because liquid does not care about landing splashing into a void but solids do. solids feel impact. you know? you know?

anyway. my point is. his eyes were bloodshot just as mine were. we were two mirrors devouring one another. do you understand? it was fucking delicious. do you understand?

so you can imagine my face when i'd looked up and seen yours staring back at me. a drink in a plastic bag tucked close to your heart and gold glitter smeared all over your face.

'you two are quite the sight, aren't you,' the cashier at the register laughed. she laughed. that face that was once twisted in disgust was now amused, entertained. do you understand? one person in ruins is something no one wants to ever look at. two people in ruins will make you laugh and wonder. oh those idiots. oh those foolish idiots who have gotten themselves in the same mess. it will be funny. do you understand? you were not a mirror, at least i don't think you were. a mirror smacks me across the face because everytime i will my own hand to do it, it stops inches away from my cheek.

i'm not quite sure what you were. you were something that looked like me, only it glowed. you weren't mirroring my pain. you were a billboard with every shade of pain printed in big bold TOUCHING ME WITH YOUR NAKED HANDS WILL NEVER CHANGE THE FACT THAT I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO CLOTHE THIS BODY. TOUCHING ME WITH A HAND THAT'S NEVER BEEN SHEATHED WILL NOT MAKE MY PERPETUALLY UNSHEATHED SKIN PURE. YOU CANNOT SAVE ME BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO BE SAVED. I AM ONLY ASKING YOU NOT TO FLINCH WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME, UNSHEATHED, AND KNOW THAT I'VE TASTED MY WAY TO PERGATORY AND CAME BACK DOWN WITH A BODY THAT WILL FOREVER REMAIN THIS DIRTY.

it was just the price i had to pay, you know? i wanted to live so badly. i suppose it's ironic then that you can't press your tongue to life and expect the foul taste to dissolve in your mouth. i suppose you'll just have to swallow it over and over and over and over until your throat dries out and you're throwing up your own regret.

could you love me still when you know i would choose to pay the price again if only just to taste you? would you have taken my lips into your own, bitter tongue to bitter tongue, and swallowed it down just the same? will you choose it too?

i suppose what i'm trying to say is

i love you

i suppose what i'm trying to say is

when life meets life, they end up killing each other

i suppose what i'm trying to say is

you're just a guy i saw at the gas-station market

i suppose what i'm trying to say is

i was always trying to touch life and the harder i tried the farther it ran from me the more rotten my skin became

i learned to love it i will never stop loving it

i suppose what i'm trying to say is

i love you like life

[tragicallyterrestrial]

my mom always told me

she believed

that we get to talk

to God when

we die

near him face to face,

kneel, and let our

words tumble

from our mouths

in praise

or worship

respite

anger

we are asked our sins

we respond true

MY CONVERSATION WITH GOD

i met a boy the summer of my 17th and he ate berries from my fingers and

i traced the freckled constellations

on his skin and iced his bruises on them with

my own freezing hands

and he had this thing where

he would hug my hands

in both of his

when they started shivering they were always cold

and i'd cried in my room

in secret when

i realized no one else

had ever cared that

they were

and he was my

four leafed clover and

my shooting star and

the soft secret i tucked into

bed next to me

gently at night and

the bird at my window

in the morning and

apollos lyre and

achilles' sword and

and i lovehimilovehimilove

himilovedhimilovehim

he's gone.

BUT YOU'RE CHANGED

AREN'T YOU?

iamchewedupandspatout

iamagapingblackhole

andafriendoncetoldme

ifyoutrytoshovestuffinside

itwillnotmakeyoufeel

wholeaugust

itwillswalloweverything

everythingeverything

everythingyouputinthere and

he's gone

BUT YOU'RE CHANGED

AREN'T YOU?

i see hands i do not

recognise and a face

foreign to me and

i am begging you

to make me forget

the way he'd looked

at me when he saw

something in me

worth wanting and

unfurled me slowly

in the quiet hours

of the night and

spread his hands

across my body

like an explorer with a map

and a treasure

and the treasure was me

me

me

our gasps of pleasure

and glory and

talks afterwards

and

looking back at him

from the kitchen and

he's already staring and

i adjust my glasses

and ask him if he wants

food and he

hugs me

make me forget

please

DO YOU WANT TO?

no

no

no

i will remember

in death

i will remember

i am carnal and

all teeth and

sinew

and snapping jaws

just like you

taught me,

and

you know

i hold a grudge like

nobody's business and

i will fucking remember

and

DO YOU WANT

HIM BACK?

no

not again

DO YOU WANT

HIM GONE?

good god you've

already killed me

and isn't one death

enough?

don'ttakethisaway

don'ttakeitawayit's

worsethandeath

it'skilling

meonetwothree

fourfivetimesover

it's

YOU LOVE HIM.

BUT YOU ARE

CHANGED.

i am i am i am

i am i am i am