MY HUNGER IS A SIN BUT IN THE MOMENT OF CONSUMPTION I AM NESTLED NEXT TO GOD

Gnawing on the stone fruit that at my mercy, 

resides firmly gripped in my palm, 

I am overwhelmed with a perverse satiation 

unlike anything 

but the one thing I cannot possess. 

It is a substitute lacking in the placating taste 

but proving its worth through its cloying, tender texture, 

this peach shall honor the imitation 

of the flesh 

lining your lurid bones. 

Its fuzzy outer layer is a fine enough replacement 

for the contentment I’d find 

in taking a bite out of your upper lip. 

However, soon enough, this honey wrapped in velvet will be unable to satisfy me, 

and I, salivating and starving for you, my love, 

will reach out, 

take your wrist in my hand, 

and consume your being whole. 

Because my gluttony is only tamed momentarily by conventional nutrition. 

Never will I be fully fed until I am able to savour every inch of you. 

Not until my tongue meets the stinging passion 

of the blood that runs through your veins, 

Not until my teeth meet the dogged strength 

of the muscle that lay in between your 

brash skeleton and your contrasting pliant skin, 

not until then, will my stomach be sated, 

and my cravings be assuaged.

by battooth

I WENT OUT LAST NIGHT

the smell of sterile antiseptic 

soaked in gasoline and sodium carbonate 

kerosene sits in my nose

daylight kisses the window sill and shows my muscle 

having one red wash cloth not clean

i can't help but feel proud in this chemical moment, neurobiological meets metal 

glitter in my eyes

the day after never fun, but usually not like this 

i'll never tell anyone

benzodiazepines on the kitchen floor 

this is where all the messes happen 

i still cry like a child

i still drink wine too often

just cut anything on my tongue, it doesn't matter 

i called my father

and that normally never happens

i can see my tissue and it makes me proud, i hope he's proud 

proof i don't need anything, even a shell

this body means nothing to me 

bright red is the most beautiful 

and no one shares my sentiment 

don't expose yourself

written by isagnat on tiktok

IMPORTANT NOTICE OF PERCEPTION

i hope i’m not just a man to you but also a biopsy specimen 

IF I’D HAVE DIED ON THAT GARAGE ROOF IN 2016 (WHAT HAPPENS TO A DREAM DEFERRED?)

my skin would’ve sizzled against the gentle touch of the power-line / sinoatrial node overloaded with current / my heart fibrillated for seven glorious seconds until my limp body rolled off the roof into my neighbor’s backyard / they’d’ve wrapped me in a quilt and said a prayer / a bloodless death that is mine alone / i’d have been the youngest in the morgue that night / dead boy in an icebox of the unfortunate / splayed on an autopsy table they’d take inventory of my insides / heart liver hunger brain lung guilt gallbladder pain kidney uterus / skin charred before it had the chance to be loved / buried before i grew old enough to bleed / virgin angel daughter lowered into the ground without ceremony / tombstone etched with a name now foreign / six feet away from becoming

FOOD

here's some food from the past couple weeks ! i recently started a new medication to boost my appetite. i'm autistic and my brain doesn't process hunger signals properly, meaning i'll forget to eat for days at a time and unintentionally lose a fuck ton of weight. but this medication has genuinely been so good so far, im eating 3 meals a day (most of the time), and i've gained 8 lbs :) will be posting meals/drinks on this blog to motivate myself !!

ALEXITHYMIAC ON THE RAILROAD TRACKS

personal narrative for last year's english class dealing with excoriation disorder and my autistic lack of feeling, kinda cringe but thought i'd share

I OUGHT TO BE THY ADAM

on the eighth day, god abandoned man 

his progeny, a slab of meat, awoke on the table 

muscle convulsing, disjointed tendons twisting beneath the skin 

its eye opened, blinking in the candlelight 

on the ninth day, god shielded his face in disgust 

as the man, confused and alone, stumbled to the forest 

the man looked at the moon and saw himself, 

distant, sweet, and strange 

on the tenth day, god fell asleep 

and the man drank in moonlight through the gaps in his flesh 

on the eleventh day, when the man will inevitably burn on the operating table of ice, 

his skin flaking and bones sinking to the ocean floor, 

god will sink with him 

divine meeting apostate far beneath heaven’s gate of thick sheet-ice

written in the winter of  2024

NOVEMBER IN MICHIGAN

summer of a thousand lakes and autumn of apple orchards have ended it’s november in michigan and i have died with the leaves the gales sweep superior and my hands won’t warm in the hot shower stale body craving sunburn gray parking lots under gray skies freeze me through my jeans sunset at 4 asleep by 5 bleeding knuckles dry my tears as consciousness passes the baton to my nervous system and i hibernate

written, as the title suggests, in michigan during november of 2024

THE LOVE SONG OF J. [REDACTED]

a poem from last year, in the style of t.s. eliot

SPECTER

In my valley of tears, I long forgot 

Meek mankind’s only fire— 

That song of love mine ears heard not

‘Til you graced them with your choir. 

An ode to the grave you sang to me: 

“‘Til death we’ll never part” 

Your lost Lenore, your Annabel Lee, 

The object of your heart. 

And though we know these hearts one day 

Will weaken and grind to a halt— 

Our souls will dance as whitecap-spray 

In our tomb of sea and salt. 

O Choir— My Choir, 

The psalms you’ve sown 

Fill my arteries like nectar— 

So when what's left is dust and bone 

You'll serenade my specter.

a love poem from last christmas :)

MIDWESTERN GOODBYE

the crash of the lakes like the stinging slap of a last kiss. he grips your hair with whitecap-knuckles and pulls you down, down.

as the water fills your lungs you love him. as you dance between the bannockburn and the edmund fitzgerald you love him. as you succumb to hypoxia on the sandy floor of superior you love him still.

you want him laid out like flatland-farms and the surface of huron. he wants you haunting him everlong like the memory of a deer struck by his car.

but now it’s summer and he’s gone and the heat radiating off the expanse of parking lots feels like the warmth of your bodies in motion. crashing into each other like waves on rocky shores and god, you miss how he’d leave you bruised.

sometimes i think michigan only gives us summers to lure us into the graveyards of her lakes.

THE PROBLEM WITH MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN (1994 MOVIE)

   My main critiques of this film lie in the character portrayals. I'll make a second part to this post eventually talking about the incest/birthing fetish aspects of this movie.

AN ODE TO ELIZABETH LAVENZA

elizabeth lavenza - elizabeth frankenstein - victor's sister - victor's wife