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Glassheart: Episode One – Shadows Don’t Walk that Way

By : May 30, 2021 01 Comment
Eli did not know what he was getting himself into. He was cautious, of course, but he had no clue that this supposed “low-stress, boring job” was going to be anything but. He got his first hint when he had to input the code to get into the station. When Eli was being briefed on this job, he was given a small booklet that was about twenty pages thick and was filled to the brim with nonsense. He thought that it would fill the time while on his shuttle to the job site. But when he got to the entrance, which had a letter lock instead of a number lock, the real reason for that booklet hit him like a brick. The contents in that booklet were the passcode. He
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identity crisis

By : May 15, 2021 Comments Off
permanent identity crisis choose your own adventure book  but i can’t pass for white but i can’t pass for black  sophie’s choice i’ve never seen sophie’s choice but i can never decide between macaroni & cheese and a cheeseburger so i think i get the picture  pictures like that bowling ball that rolled into the sewer when you were five  pictures like snowflakes that never land on your tongue and melt before they hit the ground  pictures like that girl at the bar you were too scared to talk to pictures like your blanket slipping off your legs at night and falling to the floor  i’ve talked about translucency  but not transparency like cling wrap windshields broken glass the windows of the hospital room  i can see you from the
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a bubble of silence

By : April 30, 2021 Comments Off
a bubble of silence sometimes being alone makes sense, i’m alone with my thoughts and my feelings and my discomfort. nothing really make sense these days, the world is in shambles and i’m lost in my own mind; but sometimes when i’m alone it makes sense. it makes sense that i’m tired, well exhausted really. i understand that there’s a toll on my body and my mind from what i’m feeling inside, i get that. it’s fine.  sometimes I just need a moment to breathe and understand that this will pass because in the moment it doesn’t feel like it,  in the moment it feels like i’m ripping my insides out of my body,  it feels like my heart is on fire and i’m doing nothing.  so when it makes
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Wandering Soul

By : April 24, 2021 Comments Off
I have a wandering soul. Or merely a single breath of soul that comes and goes. Winds whisk it away like a wish flower’s whispers. She taught me love is not solitary or safe, that we are all in danger all the time anyway so why not dive in headfirst. We said our souls were tangled like loose threads, and I almost started to believe. Years later I say “Whisk me away again” to the open blinds dripping with blurred night sky. So the universe let me walk beside men who taught me not to keep my fingers crossed so tight, and people caught between threads and sheets and wishes just like me. And I found myself again. And again. Even when I didn’t think I was lost at all—there
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Sunday Morning

By : April 16, 2021 Comments Off
Original Publication: Winter - 20207372 - Sinister Wisdom 115 - Lesbian Learning I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend, Abby thinks to herself as she looks through a dirty church window. Anna Benton, the pastor’s daughter, sits alone on a church pew rehearsing her lines for the junior choir’s youth revival performance. Okay, Abby thinks. She looks at her trembling hands and closes her eyes tight. Doubt paralyzes her. She thinks the two locked eyes a few times. Thinks she saw Anna smile at her. Anna Benton is the prettiest girl at Holy Saints Missionary Baptist Church. All of the boys like her and follow her around and the congregation dotes on her because she is proper, well-mannered, polite, and a straight-A student. “What if it’s just me?”
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The Songwriter

By : April 10, 2021 Comments Off
“Is it me?” I ask, leaning my head on her shoulder. The music is loud in the other room, but here, on a couch forgotten by the party, I’m able to ask what I’ve been waiting to ask. “Is what you?” she asks, putting her head on top of mine. Her hair is soft, like someone put feathers on top of my head. The couch beneath me is broken. A metal beam pokes up from under me like an unwanted guest. I shift, but the metal beam persists. “The girl you wrote that song about, it’s me, isn’t it?” She’s quiet for a long time and I wait. I listen to the music flowing into the room, the bass deep as the ocean. For a moment I’m lost in the
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