the end of the world (is yours)

Maybe someone u thought was your friend hurt you deep, and you thought you’d go home and take the drugs that ease your hurt. But instead, you go to the end of the world and get naked on the picnic table where you shared intimate moments with your lover a few days before they died.

Glaring under the horn of the Natchez riverboat wheels, that offensive echo of the calliope bouncing off the mississippi; strangers approaching, then retreating.

I lay naked breathing out my anger, my mace switched open and held in my fingers. I am not afraid, I am ready, I am free. How many years to get all three?

Detering the curious erections half-formed, softened by my face. Is it the lines in my face or the dark in my eyes that deter you?  Is it that I chose to be free, I chose to roll my eyes at the imposition of fears, your control. Non-binary, not a femme. 32 AA cup iow, i need nothing. Stop coming for my perky nipples, stop coming for my tiny body. I’m strong and, worse, I’m too broken to feel fear.


This is the place my lover sucked my toes in mid-afternoon 3 days before they died, where we moaned so loud half nude on the picnic table sun that we scared would-be approachers away. We made the place ours with just our carnal pleasure.

I took your photo but it didn’t capture how beautiful you were to me. That golden light.

Now it’s me alone but your bravery is with me. Thank you for giving me the courage, the knowledge of nothing mattering and with it the freedom and with it the world.

you motherfucker i loved you.




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