navigation
people are like cities in that you need
three apps to navigate them without getting lost
& at least a few furtive DMs in the bathroom
of a crumbling theatre venue & you still don’t know
where to find your trinkets and eternities lost—
you fall asleep in the void that fills my lungs
& i sing rumors and false promises to you
then take a does she like me? quiz on the internet
and feel like an idiot. only you could make me
have a public freakout in the middle of
a suburb that is every suburb that is every dilapidated TV set
that is every worldbuilding project i abandoned
when i was three & you say all of two words and i stretch out
every syllable like an anthem & make a mixtape for you then
swear that it was about an OC. keep finding ways to tell you
that only make me look pathetic—because asking if you want
our d&d characters to date is easier—than asking you to gently
undo me like the glow of unspoken desires and blue light, blue moods,
am i alive?
mk zariel {it/its} is a transmasculine neuroqueer poet, theater artist, movement journalist, and insurrectionary anarchist. it is fueled by folk-punk, Emma Goldman, and existential dread. it can be found online at mkzariel.carrd.co/, creating conflictually queer-anarchic spaces, writing columns for Asymptote and the Anarchist Review of Books, and being mildly feral in the great lakes region. it is kinda gay ngl.
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