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Abbie Heath | Electric Cereal

Author: Abbie Heath

Abbie Heath is a queer rad vegy bb who currently lives with their cat Charlie in Lansing, MI. They make zines and co-run the DIY press "Fevered Press, Fevered Certainty." Follow them on tumblr.


my hair is green until it falls on my desk with a coarse brown tip,
but i guess that’s how it always is, really.

everything feels like wading through snow right now,
and my toes are cold but i can’t see the end.

when i walk into work you ask me how i’m doing, and i really just want to tell you that i was trying to stay posi about mercury being in retrograde, but that i feel like everything is clouded, and wow i want to disappear a surprising amount today, and wow wow how is this still happening all the time, and wow i am deconstructing so many notions of myself that i thought i had written down for myself, and everything is fluid and changing and i am glad but so so so scared, and i am still reeling from what happened, and i was late to work because i couldn’t put it on this morning, and can’t i just not put it on some mornings?? but instead i tell you that i’m fine (but you know i’m not).

i am responsible for the energy i put into the world,
and i’m sorry if you can feel my static, but i
don’t know how to be honest and safe at the same time here, and
isn’t professionalism such a hoax (only you don’t think so, i know it).

i am trying to find ways to name the emotions that have sat behind my eyes for years
(i feel them but can never quite articulate them).
i am feeling so much for the first time,
and i am proud of myself for the first time,
but sometimes that falls just out of reach and i
drown in the static more easily than i would like to.

you are seeing it unfold as i see it unfold,
and i am sorry, but i am growing, and
we will live we will live we will live.

Sometimes It Is Taken And Not Given You Know

I am spoiled milk I know it I know it
but you taste me anyway and seem not to notice
and I’m not trying to say that I am smaller than I am or that I am broken, but
only that I see myself today and know myself, today.

but I am an ember too, growing and glowing and not yet burnt out
maybe that’s what spoiled the milk
maybe these mixed metaphors are too much for these few lines
but I am as fluid as I want to be, as fluid as I am

you taste what is between the lines and seem to want more
and that sounds heady but it’s not really, because I am looking at the ceiling

“how can I be hungry already, it’s 10 AM?”
but it’s noon and I don’t know anything anymore

I Promise You It Is The Acid In My Stomach, Coursing Through

there is the part of me that wants to bite you until yr blood paints my lips
(no no no you nvr hurt me no i can’t be hurt no not by you no no),
as if i am showing you something, as if
you will understand me better, as if
my toes will ache less
(but they won’t no no no they won’t not ever not now not by you or through you).

i’m learning to be bigger,
but sometimes all that weight just makes me sink
and i scream despite all my best intentions
leave me let me leave me let me let me.

Mortal, Like Reincarnation, Like On The Television, Like Don’t You Know, Like I Didn’t See It, Like Quiet Smoke

to accept it, to stand in front of it
is a feeling i almost have,
sitting behind my throat like a
memory that may be true,
may be empathy.

i am distracted by the tragedy
of your blues in your greens.
i mourn it all,

i don’t know how to help what has already happened,
but i should.

i see yr pain in RGB.