Patching Dry Walls

The Maenad


Content to be something else

Soft jelly squeezed between membranes

Conflicting planes, branes that press but

Never intersecting.


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.

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