Sheets tangled around lithe bodies, I am
unbecome in this- read: drowning from this.
Once brings red flashes, twice brings muscles
torn clean down the centre. Your face, screwed shut
in agony? ecstasy? never looked so alive in the eyes as when
you look at him. Call him a cheap fuck,
gloryhole, a skin to slip on for the night like an evening gown.
An expert shrouded
in veils- the receipts, the pretty presents.
If you give me enough it makes up for what was lost.
Flush the ring down
the toilet, like too much alcohol winedrunk on this heady feeling
this is enough – am I enough? Drown in the sediments.
Reach inside my chest
fingers as spears, try to claw this out of me- if I use enough
bleach if I use enough ethanol if I use if I use if I use.
Time ossifies memories, like postcards to places I will
never see. Printed on the back of eyelids. Learn how to
lean into this, the tension
and the
relief.
Author Bio:
Eddie House is a 22-year-old genderqueer manic pixie daydream. In their free time, they love to write, especially poetry and short stories. They spend a lot of the time roller skating, mainlining energy drinks, and pretending to write to get their friends off their back. Can be most often found hiding in the university library near their home and trying to work before the staff can kick them out for not being a student. Their aim is for other queer young people to read their work and be inspired. They have had their heart broken more times than they can count and write about it at eddielhouse.tumblr.com. You can also find more of their work in Anatolios and Hustling Verse under their birth name.
unbecome in this- read: drowning from this.
Once brings red flashes, twice brings muscles
torn clean down the centre. Your face, screwed shut
in agony? ecstasy? never looked so alive in the eyes as when
you look at him. Call him a cheap fuck,
gloryhole, a skin to slip on for the night like an evening gown.
An expert shrouded
in veils- the receipts, the pretty presents.
If you give me enough it makes up for what was lost.
Flush the ring down
the toilet, like too much alcohol winedrunk on this heady feeling
this is enough – am I enough? Drown in the sediments.
Reach inside my chest
fingers as spears, try to claw this out of me- if I use enough
bleach if I use enough ethanol if I use if I use if I use.
Time ossifies memories, like postcards to places I will
never see. Printed on the back of eyelids. Learn how to
lean into this, the tension
and the
relief.
Author Bio:
Eddie House is a 22-year-old genderqueer manic pixie daydream. In their free time, they love to write, especially poetry and short stories. They spend a lot of the time roller skating, mainlining energy drinks, and pretending to write to get their friends off their back. Can be most often found hiding in the university library near their home and trying to work before the staff can kick them out for not being a student. Their aim is for other queer young people to read their work and be inspired. They have had their heart broken more times than they can count and write about it at eddielhouse.tumblr.com. You can also find more of their work in Anatolios and Hustling Verse under their birth name.
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