ichor coated teeth - trans and unholy 

I am 
c r a w l i n g o u t o f m y s k i n 
grave dirt and coffin wood 
I know they're not listening when I tell them 
there is no g
o

waiting for me 
dear grandmother, your daughter bore a c r e a t u r e
made of metal chippings and all of your fears
you tried to make me something h o l y
by pouring baptized water down my throat 
but I've always been a -> fire thing 
and it just tastes like vodka to me 

you're not a r e a l boy, Pinocchio
and I'm more b o n e than flesh 
hard and full of h o l e s 
my body whistles 
when the wind blows 
unreal I fli/cke/r between forms unfit verisimilitude
fluid/solid/gas, gender made -> sex made -> paradox
I take your p r e t o
e c p i n of me 
and make it steel 
break your t e e t h on me 

but I am not real until not looked at 
Schrödingers cat got nothing on me 
don't look at me don't look at me don't look at m e
I am the soil/I am the house /I am the ghost haunting it
dead heart dead kid dead dreams still b r e a t h i n g
I am chewing on my own brain 
grasping my own shoulders and 
s-h-a-k-i-n-g-m-e 
gritting teeth and s t r a n g l i n g the sickness 
I'm trying to sew shut the h o l e in my chest
cross my heart and hope to die 
I can't stand the f e e l of my own skin 
they pulled out my t e e t h and they grew back b
ichor
turned blood I tongue at bone r
I swallow mouth/fulls of copper/coins i
mirrors show me a face I don't recognize t
all I see is blown eyes and bottom less hunger t
they kept telling me angel thing, sing a tune for us l
blonde little child, curls around a cherubim face e
I open my mouth and scream 
got no use for a pretty face and holy voice 
come and look at them trying/to/touch 
and watch me 
d e v o u r t h e h a n d s t h a t f e e d

this morning, january, forever 

small sharp knives 
wind-driven 
caressing red cheeks 
tender 

cold glass air 
inhaled, gently 
filling irritated 
lungs 

opaque sky 
clouding vision 
tiny white stars, 
whirling 

fractal winter 
blanketing asphalt 
an icy, quiet 
sleep 

gusts of white 
stirred by motion 
a dance, 
jubilation 

numbness 
in the flesh 
slow-motion, 
sluggish 

a warmth 
behind the ribs 
kindness, 
between the snow 

nothing will ever compare 
windy and sharp and bitter, bitter cold 
and warm inside, anyway 
i'm falling in love all over again

robbery of the i (breathless and bleeding) 


I keep writing 
with this font 
and cutting 
my words 
into parts 
so that maybe 
maybe 

I'll sound 
like i know 
what i'm 
saying 
and maybe 
people will 
think that I 
write like 
a poet 

I've been flexing my jaw 
and gently clicking my teeth 
and pressing my tongue 
against bone 
because it's the only thing 
between me and 
splitting flesh, 

cracking my nails sideways 
and chewing on knuckles 
ain't something you learn 
in the lectures on manners 

lady 

I'm playing with the wire 
holding my teeth together 
when they'd rather 
part and twist 

I imagine splitting my t o n g u e 
right down 
the middle with it

on loop with no exit 
for hours I am 
unbecoming, 
slowly at 
breakneck speed 

then I am a 
this is my un 
the wheel keeps 
running round in 
what makes you hungry 
we see seas, please 
can you hear the 
sit beneath 

what sets you free 
traps you inside 
I've become reliant 
on this 

what do I do when I
am not nothing, the
tongues I speak are
nothing in the face
of the black hole th
at is in the net of el
ectric pulses of my
brain, supermassiv
e, breathtaking, I’m
gasping sitting ther
e breaking my verte
brae, last of the thor
acic, feeling it slide
back into place and
leaving me reeling,
who am I when I am
not talent, fourteen
and singing arias w
ith blood on my t e e t h .

what do I do when I
am still hungry, tha
t terrible mouth wi
de open and hands
straining to touch t
he soft parts I am o
ffered, I fear becom
ming that snarling
thing I see in my dr
eams and feel para
lyzed with it, heart
pounding and out o
f breath until I bec
ome the aching lon
ging I made for me,
who am I when I am
every feeling I shov
ed down my throat
and started to c h e w .

what do I do when I
am angry, years up
on years of controll
ed fury built up and
smoking in the edg
es of my vision like
the holy ghost my g
randmother prays t
o, I am rattling at m
y own cage, built at
six and demolished
age twenty I becom
e godless fury, twis
ted I eat myself, ou
roboros, mine body.
who am I when I am
the ashes made fro
m my own fire, I am
one of the k i n d l i n g .

Bones is a multilingual and genderqueer writer from Austria. Ey writes about inner struggles put into words of motion as well as generational trauma and the chaotic battleground it leaves behind. Find him on Twitter @LyraPoison. When not writing, you will usually find em walking through his city with a book in hand. This will be eir second publication.