#trans fem dreamwastaken

[imsosocold]

More ,, c!dream transfem poetic ideas....please...

Our purely putrid filthy, fusty, musty, stanky, rank fem-not-female daymare. She’s fraying clothes with seams ripping in the way envelopes and wrapping paper are in their desperation to be opened. She’s patches peeling off the way fruits are peeled with their skins being left out to rot in the sun. She’s the scab and sunburn you pick at until it prickles. She’s sweat from heat against the sweat of the cold. She’s the dust you forgot to sweep up that hangs sparkling in the air. She’s the floorboard that creeks with your breaths. She’s an old fridge whose very self, never mind its contents, is rotting. She’s the light that won’t stop flickering. She’s an old time styled radio that only garbles out guttural sounds and spits static. She’s shoes splitting at the soles that you still expect to shield your feet from the metal as you kick at your broken down rusted car. She’s the bandana you  wear when the sands and their winds get too high. She’s the odd smelling and shaped stains that won’t come out and won’t be questioned. She’s a mattress on TOP of a mountain of blankets that are sour smelling and matted with sweat.  She’s the grimy coins kids are excited to find. She’s the sketchbook scraps forced to be used as napkins. She’s waking up with wounds you don’t remember how you got and soon will forget having. She’s front yard fires, never strong enough for barbecue. She’s the constant pain that you have no clue where comes from but can’t afford to see a doctor over it. She’s toilet paper veils and toilet paper roll telescopes and napkin handkerchiefs and towel headscarves and Piñata pets. She’s a burning flag (L’Manburg or American) at a backyard concert and brunch. She’s licking at the salt lick in cold hoping it hasn’t frozen over. She’s playing music on the bottom of garbage cans and pans and on top of thighs. She’s a little kid carrying stuff in her hoodie and inside her shirt feeling so smart about it. She’s showing off what you found in the parking lot. She’s moths hitting against patio lights. She’s fireflies caught bare handed in the backyard which you at first are excited about before feeling grossed out. She’s the sea urchin you step on out of spite.  She’s the solid salt chunks caught in your mouth from swimming in the sea. She’s empty tortoise shells and even emptier, exposed tortoise spines. She’s animal blood being boiled; something you can’t scrape out. She is pure folk punk. She is everything. She’s made up of and makes up with popsicle stick people and macaroni art men and bottle cap boys and chalk chicks and tally girl tabs.  She feels like cicada husks and bed bug shells and dragonfly wings and rhino beetle horns. If you kissed her she would taste of raw meat and then blood because she bites on instinct. She could ride a bike with flat tires. She could make a heater out of an old fan. She somehow gets drunk from church wine and high from smoking straight up grass and chewing on loose exercise -machine tums. She holds an open potluck made up of leftovers as she does scratch off tickets and sniff stickers together. She hand washes clothes and dishes alike but if she had a washing machine she’d get lost in watching it spin until she felt like throwing up. She’s distance spitting seeds and tobacco alike. She collects sand and spices and stamps; all the little things you never know if/when you’ll need. She makes the sort of grits that always get stuck in your teeth and to the top of your mouth and to the bottom of your stomach but in a way that’s comforting. She lets bugs and insects and animals climb onto and all over her.

She lets mosquitos bite her and shows off the bumps that develop proudly because don’t they deserve to eat too?  She’s wanting to be lost. She bops herself on the head on an empty soda bottle when she’s not blowing into it and a paper bag.  She snacks on perlite like popcorn and chews on wood chips. She drinks the water from leaks and blisters. She sucks up the guts out of pumpkins and suckles on bark and gnaws on sap and loves moss even more than Kris. She’ll feed house and store and backyard and forest plants alike. She has a garden just for weeds. She makes her own manure. She grows mushrooms in the upstairs bathroom sink. She raises crayfish in a school Petri dish. She only wants to eat the green tomatoes and bananas and peaches. She wants to see how sticks and stones break bones. She has squirted lemon and tomato juice directly into her eyes just to see what it’s like.

She wakes up the crickets and the chickens. Her green motif comes from  staining from chlorine and leaves painted brighter and more waxy than they could ever be in nature for advertising and the lack of green colored stars that exist. Science kits and first aid kits are the same to her. She brings astronaut food to the beach picnic. She gets bone shards stuck in her teeth along with her tonsil stones. She keeps taxidermy in coolers. She keeps bait in buckets and gives them out like gift bags. She recites rites for roadkill.   She made wind chimes out of fake dimes. She nicks nails from construction sites. She dances in dumpsters. She blacks out in the bakery bins behind the store fronts. She kicks her shoes onto the roof after making a contest of how far they could be thrown off when on the swing set. She writes messages out of spider webs. She braids grass to put into her hair and wears roots like rings. She knows the exact classifications that foods like tomatoes and pumpkins and strawberries and eggplants fall into. She has such strong opinions about oatmeal over corn meal, squash vs gourds, egg whites in comparison to yolks. She has grown with the grass and she finds perfume in skunks and every abandoned place is immediately familiar to her. In universe she invented the hawk tuah meme. She’s genuinely “not like most other girls” without even trying. She’s almost disgustingly  authentic and actually is very proud of it. It will take months, even maybe years, to sort out my thoughts on her and so many other pretty piling-up things but I will eventually write (and certainty think) about her forever lol.