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Thomas Mackie Jan 24
I fell in love in the frame of a window.

You looked at me and then turned the corner,



and then the next,






and then you were gone.
Trapped behind the register, I make prolonged and meaningful eye contact with a stranger outside.
Thomas Mackie Jan 20
Fangs are sprouting from my skull,
you cannot stop what must be done.
Bound indoors with curtains drawn,
until moon takes the place of sun.

Needle sharp teeth puncture your skin,
the transformation has begun.
I whisper something in your ear,
your human form and gender, none.

When coven blood out-thickens water,
we have just started all the fun.
Vampires have to stick together,
no mother, father, daughter, son.
This poem is meant to create a parallel between the transgender experience and that of a vampire. The duality between two different transformations both fueled by puncture wounds, as well as the pattern that happens after you come out. Once one person in a community is out of the closet, oftentimes others follow because they feel safer to do so. This is not a critique of my community. Trans folks are not monsters. However, sometimes we are ostracized and treated as if we were. I think I'd be proud to be a vampire, too.
Thomas Mackie Jan 20
The wind pushes me
'cause I carry myself loose,
sippin' ***** mixed with juice.

Punch buggy,
no punch back.
If you hold my hand,
I'll carry your axe.
Two short poems that belong together.
Thomas Mackie Jan 20
I walk as if I'm in a dream.
my legs extend below me,
rather than I above them.
I take big strides
with my hands in my pockets
and a smile on my back.
Thomas Mackie Jan 20
We stomp and we romp
with our filthy, bare feet
we jump and we bump
in the high summer heat.

Just skin, nails, and teeth
stop when we see blood
we are the ***** girls
rolling around in the mud.

We're *****, we drink beer
in the park in the dark
we yawp, twist, and shout
and we jeer and we bark.

We **** for the thrill
in the sweet with sweat season;
we say it's revenge,
but we don't need a reason.

Saturated plum flesh
bursting between jaws,
we are boundless, we are seeping,
we are love without laws.
Dear straight people,
It is a common believe that ****** are docile, non-threatening, non- violent, and weak. That being ***** is a choice to up your instagram followers, or to be the most woke, or to attract others. This is a poem to remind you that we are as natural as the sun, we are everywhere, and that we are not afraid to smash your brains in with a brick.
Sincerely,
Author

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