The thing with being non-binary is -offline at least — you’re still living in a binary world. Stuck in a binary society.
I’m not binary. Most of the time I am a genderless blob made up mostly of tea and anxiety.
Modern society is not made for people like me…
Anna grabs Recky’s hand, spotting her friend as soon as she enters the storeroom between their two departments. She pulls her down behind the grey metal boxes as she walks past. Recky’s shoulder connects with one sharp corner and she hisses, goes to complain until Anna presses her finger to…
Ala walks through the halls of the Fraxis, running her hand along the silver-blue walls that shine new and bright. People pass her by, look at her oddly or with sympathy but she doesn’t really notice. Doesn’t really pay much attention to the people that pass her by. They may…
They dislike being surrounded. Standing or not, friendly or not, it is not something they like.
It’s not quite claustrophobia, nor is it fear.
Just something isn’t right with the rows of pawns either side of him. Even if half of them are on their side, they still don’t feel…safe.
cut myself with bits of glass I found in the street,
watched a man try to kill himself to keep me,
found new ways to overdose on my medication,
drank until I was unconscious because I could not sleep
slept until I was cramped and aching because I could not rise
cried and crawled, bleeding and bruised,
spent weeks in hospital, four pints of blood
yellow skin and failing liver,
from an eating disorder they do not understand,
diagnosed and labelled, a list of letters that led to
years of therapy that didn’t help, medication that
didn’t matter. Tried to die, tried to live and despite all this.
It comes, uncooperative as I am
places itself at the forefront
having pushed its way through
from the darkest of corners.
I’ve a chemical defence against it
ineffective but dependable,
closing my eyes, I see it clearer
these are the thoughts that linger.
Long into the night, they come and go,
I push them aside for flights of fancy
but nothing is a permanent
as the worst of my imagination.
I relive horrors that haven’t happened
without warning or wanting
little images I create , of your death or mine
and there’s no deterrent I know.
I continue on, not unhindered
burdened as we are by our own thoughts,
well or wasted, they have power
and we would be remiss to ignore them entirely.
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She is all strength and
I feel like I
am trying to solve a puzzle
I’ll never be able to pick apart.
I am wisdom, they tell me
like this is something to deny
for her benefit
but she already knows I won’t fight.
She has not asked.
I've tried treaties and tributes
over compensated with words
gifts work better, and plain honesty
neither seem to overwhelm her.
Simply, I am here
not pining, only wanting
watching as she stalks the halls
with tempers I cannot match
and passion I will not experience.