Fiction & Poetry
We are two boys in our early twenties
who can read touch like that, who have broken into
a 200-year-old mansion, without permission,
to see from above where people like them go
after 377 has been read down only for those
who can stay behind closed doors — in the custody
of cheap hotels, or houses that welcome nights
with the sound of latches closing.
Do you know what it feels like to be seen? I also don’t know what it feels like to be properly heard, but that’s a question for another time.
They lay eyes on him, they see a body out of the gym. A black, thick beard, in a need…
Unbiased academic Pillars Stand rock hard and Straight-shoot to the sky. Pillars My teacher tells me all…
They’ punch him
with the pejorative
‘sissy’
and blame him for his smooth skin
and pink lips
for all ‘their’
disoriented gazes.
Who is this that works my hand?
Who is this that moves my pen?
Touch is a beetle creeping on this foreign thing
That wears my body like an evening.
Why must others judge her appearance and grace
When true beauty is not confined to a face?
In a world obsessed with the outer shell,
She knows in her heart inner beauty dwells.
That little baby born in spring,
Shall “he” identify as Queer?
Regardless, Polaris feels queer!
The morning was heavy, laden with the weight of expectation, with the unsettling realisation that something was about to shift.
I only ever read your letters
to learn what patterns to avoid
in future relationships.
i want to 377 you so bad till even the sheets hurt i want to ache your knees singe your…
A kiss for the side of your neck One for the last of your back For a year that we…
From silver screens to pages penned,
Our identities explored, where journeys never end.