hanging halfway out of a cocoon woke up in a rage my new body was congealing suspended in soup like a silkworm like a bee without a brain drinkin up all that Royal Jelly. I had my eyes closed I was lying so still for so long to be just shaken awake like that. What even is this Light? an instagram aesthetic told me to ‘shed my circumference.’ like I haven’t already woven a whole tapestry of snake skins wide enough to cover the whole ****** sun. So I lifted my ax and bam manifested myself something to chop. maybe now I’ll put the ax down once and see where goes the edges of my world. maybe the Masculine isn’t what they told us it was. maybe the Masculine isn’t some rugged five’ o'clock shadow come to steal ya girl. maybe the Masculine isn’t some ****** frat boy who gets the most toys and wins.
maybe the Masculine is just an old grandpa holdin up his baby granddaughter girl, laughing; eyes shining in the sunlight sitting atop a bronze hippo at the Philadelphia zoo.