Originally published in The 13th Floor Magazine, University of Nebraska at Omaha, Issue Spring 2025
He Is
He is a magician. He is a pair of eyes at the end of a threatened tongue. His friends say he is strong for breathing air that’s not his. He doubts his lungs are laced completely together. He holds golden, hidden truths in his throat. He will forget about them. He hates being told he is nothing more than something he can’t control. Still, his mouth is tied to the mouth he kisses is tied to the rock thrown into the pit of a bureaucrat’s stomach under granite. He pukes in the bar’s bathroom after finishing his 6th gin and tonic after making out with a guy he just met. He is celestial stripped of his divinity and left naked on the tiled kitchen floor. He lies there, painting pictures in the speckled popcorn ceiling, dreaming of things he’s seen on the TV. He isn’t here to change the world because he isn’t an alchemist. The world doesn’t want or need him, another faggot.

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