Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jordan Gee Sep 2022
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.

©️  Jordan gee
In alarum in umbra Mercury Rx
Jonathan Moya Sep 2019
Each launch begins with a prayer
until I have a puncture, a rip, a tear.
Mayday!  Mayday!  Mayday!

I am always falling
either to the earth or to the stars,
falling forward to God the Father
or father to son.
  
To survive I move in the vacuum
between calm heartbeat
and silent in-breath,

hurling to my final mission
to repair a disconnection
of a mind that can
***** life with a thought
or by sniffling
a remembered tear,

knowing not whether to
****** the monstrous soul
or to hug the last, lost dead part.

I swim through
the waterfalls of mars
knowing I never really knew you
nor am I you.

“Stay where you are.
Do not proceed any further,”
you hiss in loving defiance.

In the space in between
I see that madness is
never once thinking of home,
being free of all moral doubt.

Tethered to the umbilical
I cut the insanity to the vacuum,
suffocate the space between
with love,

until I can no longer see
what is not there,
until I miss what
is right in front of me.

In the after-burn from Saturn
I am looking forward
to the day of my self return.

I will rely on what is closest to me.
I will live and love.

— The End —