I hold a collection of stones in my hands. I did not collect them myself, but somehow they got slipped into my pocket. They are not all the same. Some are larger than others, Different shades and colors. Some are rough and hard, Some are smooth, cold. Each of the stones have words on...
And broken were the bones that once held him together. Pretty brown boy found love over the summer. Met her one wild night and dove in head first down Alice’s rabbit hole. Pretty brown boy falls for a dime piece with curves like a coke bottle. And broken were the bones. He snuck her...
Trigger Warning: Porn mention, Female Masturbation mention
When you walk through the woods at night, what is the one thing you search for?
Away from the incessant tickboxes of patriarchal-heteronormativity, away from the snide looks at weddings and whispers of ‘biological clock,’ queer time is slow and lazy, it is an endless Sunday afternoon.
I am not guaranteed a lifetime, only time. I move through the world and space unwillingly. If you wish to see the planet as I have, or as I do, you are foolish.
“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice – not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew….
Up until a month ago, my goals for my life involved publishing a themed chapbook before the end of 2016, moving to Washington, DC, and to intern at the White House.
TW: Mental illness mention, Dissociation mention, Suicide mention
Although most of us rarely admit, the sentence, “I understand”, is the last sentence we want to hear. When on the receiving end of an “I understand” we fight to refrain from rolling our eyes and snapping “no you don’t”. But isn’t that what we’re thinking?
September smells like rain on my window– Pain. Cliches, yeah I know about those.
In September of 2015, I put up Margin’s first editor’s letter and held my breath. This September marks Margins’ first year anniversary!