Antibio
[Oscar Proud making campfire with ashy feet]
I am an okay bisexual living just close enough to the sun to be known to many as a friend. Infamously a daughter. I’m mostly water and try not to let anyone take that away from me. I’m every crease in my hand and the warmth I leave behind in the bed. Really I’m demi but bi sounds cooler.
I have been rubber necking my past watching something burn away. Patched back into shadow. It’s a quiet fire but I found it. I’m close enough to see heat waver the light. Distorting the veil that soothed us into forgetting it’s all flammable. The past lived with a willingness to burn away.
There I am burning. It is not even me. It is a signal climbing zig zag out nerves all nested. Crawling into a heap of substrate, creature in the making. Glossy lacquered and wet. Crystal spider monkey looping through and across until they separate into ash. You could become so every day. It was not me it was a wanderer. Lizard lumbering tasting for something smoked. A wound cured and ready to eat.
It is a little tired to mention an ouroboros ever but that is the first tattoo I wanted. Now it’s too obvious. Self making is so globular. I locced my hair yesterday. It took a lot of globs. Each sticky unit made more me, sticking with me.
This is real writing. Each character is a unit of ash fffffffff (fuck). I forgot to get permission to be feral on main. Just letting you know how I am besides when I really need you to know. This is like that interlude to my next really precise thing. Please laugh and cry with me or just sit with it. I like poetry that is rummaging around. You caught me, I was the wanderer the whole time.
🫰🏾🫰🏾🫰🏾