Rumination On How I Don’t Give A Fuck
LiraeL O
in order to understand the ice beneath i must investigate the receptors of feminine and female energy in the atrium of the cisgender (straight) man. in the chalky landings of a school staircase or perched playfully atop a whiskey ginger, i will eavesdrop and ingest the male in the grass where he pisses on his property, where he speaks openly about the women who satiate his hungry and vasocongest his most prized vessel. the food court sesame chicken jiggles down your esophagus when she walks by. it’s summer and she’s beady and you watch, precum pushing out your pupils and instantly you’re lost in the slow rhythm of her adipose in direct conversation with bone, muscle, gravity, sunlight, pheromone…   she’s the kind of girl you jerk off to in hell, she’s the kind of girl whose mouth you want to spit in, kind of girl who’s sad but you don’t care cause sad girls fuck the best and you love fucking sad girls, she’s the kind of girl who you could see yourself impregnating in a landslide, the kind of girl who you can watch Netflix with in a snowstorm cuzzled up knowing full well that she has a pussy and not a dick. a dick and not a pussy. she has a pussy and not a dick. pussy for pussy for dick for pussy dick pussy dick pussy dick. my pussy is a dick my dick is a pussy I have a dick I am woman hear me eat.
LIRAEL O is a sister to the wraith. The magic of the charter of her birthplace, she picks language from the ether. and sometimes writes it down. LiraeL lives within the ancient walls of the Abhorsen’s House, at the end of the Ratterlin (Brooklyn). LiraeL has work forthcoming in Apogee Journal issue 5.

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