parts, pieces

Madeleine Chan, Canada

calling me cruel is just a drop in my basket of self-loathing kept close on my side to catch anything else I may find useful. Along with my tongue coiled around my neck and this void in my chest I am a walking, talking mutant of faces. caught in a place just for you, always wanting, never getting. All these parts of me fall prey to a challenge, a change. To not seem other when I am anything but. I am everything, but. Keep walking with this flesh fit loosely around my bones.This frame can’t hold much now. Building it, among these calls, is catching airwaves like baseballs to fit into square holes, disconnected but interesting.

Madeleine Chan (they/she) is a queer, non-binary freelance writer who enjoys exploring the intersections of media, culture, and identity when they’re not pursuing the plight of poignant poetry and prose. Keep up with them and their work on Twitter @madeleinechan or Instagram @madeleinelyc.