queer fantasy author and poet
I can take it. I can take all the hailstorms and the lightning and the caterpillars eating my leaves. I can prove it, I can be the softest, most emotionally vulnerable saint you have ever seen, I will care about every soul who crosses my path and hand out compliments and be kind to everyone.
I’m sorry, no you can’t, you are mortal
Find me a thesaurus for the flowers of the nose, everyone knows our language is lacking–where are the words for tulips smell, daffodil smell, rose scent, they’re all distinct, yes?
“Ew” faces look like wrinkly lettuce leaves,
or so some omnivorous rabbits say, a baby’s eyes seen sideways seem like button holes, or so some sleepy dreams claim, but even in the waking world they breathe
Frodo, in Lord of the Rings, him being so weak is what makes him strong enough to carry the ring–contradictions like that, weak and strong in a cycle, currents of cold and warm clashing, collapsing, bottoming out, that’s the hurricane
Go, begonia, bloom for once Like your life depends on it, Or else these shears will stab your stem and slice with no remorse. I’m just a bleeding heart, cowering in fear on the twigs From the gardening force Come to deadhead our autumn flower bed. I’m so sorry, begonia, that you had to go.Continue reading “This Invulnerable Bleeding Heart”
What is going on? You can hear me? You can hear me! Yeah, Cory, nice and loud. Ribbon, thank goodness. We’re in a red desert and I have no idea what’s going on. Red? The last desert was brown. Regardless, could you stop shouting? I’m not trying to shout. It’s just that red deserts aren’tContinue reading “Cory’s Story: overgrown insanity garden in 6 simple steps”
Cory stuffed his head under the pillows, drowning out the sounds of shouting. The bed still shook though. Like vicious tides through bedposts and mattress.
Lifting pillowcase fringe from his vision, he stared at the window, through the empty space in the row of cacti pots. The glittering snow ran like white eraser past the panes.
My name is Cory. I’m kind of new at this. What’s your name?
My name? I just…I don’t…I don’t understand what’s going on.
Sorry, I’m really new at this. I always remember existing, but I guess that won’t be true for everyone…
I’m sorry, I just remember…I just remember hurting.
Hello. My name is Cory, I’m twenty-two years old, and I’m the advisor of the system.
What’s a year?
Oh. A year? Do…you know what a day is?
Day is when the pain starts.
Jordyn Saelor