the boy turns me into a doll with his love
tomorrow morning the boy will go to war and his
doll will be thrown into the dustbin of history and
filled with sadness in his heart along with despair
why is my skin not rubbery and can’t be blown off after sexual use
it would be easier for everyone
***
red lipstick on wet cheeks
lashes on the beloved body
thorns instead of rose petals
my body does not belong to me
***
simulation of orgasm or simulation of love –
wounds on the body after the whip
***
my body can be mine
someone uses my body at will
my body can be separate from me
my body is too human
my body is too heteronormative
my body repels me
my body humiliates me
my body won’t let me sleep
i want to wake up
***
urgent help birds
can no longer look
at human suffering
***
internal migration
to the distribution center
of those who run away from themselves
figures of silence in the void of silence the
sky has collapsed on us all and we
don’t know how to raise it without the help
of the army
Mykyta Ryzhykh. Ukraine (Nova Kakhovka Citу). Published in the journals Dzvin, Ring A, Polutona, Rechport, Topos, Articulation, Formaslov, Colon, Literature Factory, and Literary Chernihiv, and on the portals LitCenter and Soloneba.
Angel Rust 