Moon Child

you can sit in the kitchen and have strange memories

Let's have some coffee while remembering everything

“your body, my choice” i will blow a hole through you with my shotgun

the scary part about getting better is that there's this constant fear that things will go back to what they once were

There’s a level of confessional that only occurs when someone is driving you home late at night

@barbienymph

I walk this broken road on the boulevard of broken roads Don’t know where it broke but it’s only me and I broke the road

A Future Unwritten

I bead of sweat trickles down my brow, a testament to my anxiety as I refresh the browser displaying the live polls.

I strive to hold on to my calm, desperately clinging to composure amid the storm of uncertainty.

Surely, he won’t be elected.

Our country is smarter than that.

I close my laptop and turn to the TV, desperate for an escape from reality.

My heart thuds rapidly in my chest as I watch the Office, each scene mere background noise to the chaos swirling in my mind, my thoughts consumed by the polls.

I flick the TV off and check the polls once more.

He is winning.

How is that possible? This must be inaccurate.

I hit refresh on my browser, desperate for a different outcome.

I refresh again.

And again.

Finally, the numbers shift before my eyes.

Harris stays frozen while Trump surges forward with an unsettling gain of 20.

“Don’t panic” I urge myself mentally.

Surely, he won’t be elected.

Our country is smarter than that.

The hour grows late and my heart races with an overwhelming sense of dread.

I refuse to lose hope.

Not now. Not yet.

With a heavy sigh and bloodshot eyes, I sink into my bed, letting my sheets engulf me whole.

Again, those haunting polls invade my mind, relentless and tormenting.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone.

I hesitate.

Surely, he won’t be elected.

Our country is smarter than that.

I shut my eyes once more and sleep takes me.

This is no soothing slumber.

I dream of a time where women are stripped of their autonomy, robbed of the right to govern their own bodies.

I dream of a time where marriage is confined only to the union of a man and a woman, shutting out all who dare to love beyond those limits.

I dream of a time where transgender individuals are discriminated against and unable to access the critical healthcare they deserve.

I dream of a time where rape is reduced to a mere whisper, brushed aside as an unfortunate reality rather than a life-altering violation that demands our outrage and action.

I dream of a hierarchy that places white men on a pedestal, casting the rest of us into the depths of insignificance, forcing us to suffer in silence.

I wake drenched in a cold sweat, my fists clenched and my nails digging into the tender flesh of my palms.

“Don’t panic” I urge myself mentally.

It was just a nightmare.

Surely, he won’t be elected.

Our country is smarter than that.

I drift back into an uneasy sleep and wake in the morning to the melancholic sound of rain tapping on my windowsill.

I lie there, motionless, my gaze fixed on the dark ceiling above me.

Shouldn’t there be a distant symphony of cheers? The sound of celebration and joy? The melody of birds chirping gleefully as the morning sun peeks through my blinds?

No, it is hauntingly quiet.

A silence that wraps around me like a shroud.

No, the world is gray outside, and the rain cascades down, mirroring the tears that are now freely flowing down my cheeks.

I don’t have to look at my phone. I feel it in my bones, a chilling certainty of what is to come.

He was elected.

Our country was not smart enough.

-Kenna p.

Sex that looks like you're murdering me

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