The Maenad
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We all live our lives within houses, built of walls
Wrought mostly of holes, badly pampered over
With posters or wallpaper and good intentions
The brutal reality of things, like screaming rednecks
in fast cars at one am.
Tired of hiding all these suddenly violent redecorations
Why patch holes in doors when the doors
Themselves are part of the reason for violence and hitting?
Take the doors off the hinges better I keep saying
.
But it is the way of the breed,
the domesticated short hair,
white American cismale
To remain indecisive, for as long as possible
To actively fail to commit to anything
A burger a girl a future
.
Just sitting on their bean bag chairs and being
Spandiwearing perpetual fuckboys
Wastecock bums who think they’re ward cleaver
America a ‘merica
Cage match in the sewage come hither
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The Maenad (She/Hers) Transgender Goddess, an activist, artist, poet, publisher, sex worker, and author of creative non-fiction, erotica, fantasy, and science fiction.
Her work has appeared @corporealitmag @engendered @gutslutpress @fahmidanjournal @redplanetmag @wickedgayways @365tomorrows, within the Gongfarmer’s Almanac and on Madwomen in the Attic.
Her first chapbook, a work of trans erotic liberation, the Ishtar Cycle, is available from @lupercaliapress
Find her @dreaminggynoid on Twitter and @scarlet_maenadum on IG.
Beyond the Underground 