Content to be something else
Soft jelly squeezed between membranes
Conflicting planes, branes that press but
Press me to broken walls and fill me
full of the rhythm, the rhetoric, the spirit.
Swaying against you in this slow strangulation
Dance taking my air, claiming my life
marking time with each angrier drum-thud in the blood
music my trephine, waves wibbling in brains,
neurons fire and forget like missiles in mind,
your fingers wrapped around tight from behind
take the time all away with the way light bends,
fingers pressed into moist tense flesh,
all volume, intent into a tunnel purple and gay
pound me, fill me full
of holes like plaster walls
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.