junkyard ambrose
PRAYER FROM A TRANSSEXUAL BOY WHO WAS ONCE A PRETTY GIRL
Testosterone will make you ugly.
Man; I hope it does. Hope it mutilates me beyond human
recognition, splits me down the middle until I unfold
upon myself again and again: a flesh flower ouroboros freak.
Hope it doesn’t pull its punches—leaves me battered and bruised
on the basement floor, flourishing in an oozing toxic masculinity waste pool.
Inject. Slather. Guzzle. This holy serum is radioactive, electric
green in my veins to chemically manufacture a half-man fag.
Let it slither in my shapeshifter veins, infecting
flesh down to the bone marrow with this thing called manhood.
Let it fester, writhe inside a body writhing
beneath bodies, balmy hands and mold fuzzed stomachs.
Liquify my insides and suck out my humanity with metal straws.
The doctors—sanctified monster makers— replace it with ecstasy
and gender spores: a sex fungus spread to every major organ.
My androgyny repulses; my gender screams
with rotting vocal chords a cacophonous choir of transsexuals—
angels beyond the limits of your binary inhibitions.
Our bodies do not know eternity. Enjoy me while I last, while I slip into
something worthwhile; something self-molded and self-worshiped.
My malleability is my nature; tangibility my reward.
The mirror is my maker and myself my witness.
Please please please. May testosterone make me ugly—
in its filth is my salvation. Don’t let me die unchanged.
junkyard ambrose is an irradiated dog regrettably given free will and uses it to bring everyone down with him. Refrain from making direct eye contact, but feel free to find a compilation of his sins at caninebrainz.neocities.org or the dreaded thing itself on Bluesky @caninebrainz