I feel her.

You are in me. 

You are near me, you are in me and you are around me.

You are me. 

You are me at three, you are me at five, you are me at six, you are me when I’m around a lot of dicks. 

My body is yours. From my curves, to my fingertips, to the very ends of every hair follicle on my body you are me. 

You are me from the past and an unknown future. You are the colliding of two dimensions crashing into a corporeal presence of being. 

I make you. I make you with our clammy hands, 10 brushes, 5 sponges, 3 wig caps, 15 Bobby pins and even the fucking fake eyelashes that glue together this notion of a “drag queen.” 

You are a queen. You’re a queen of a land inside of you unknown to the naked eye. You’re a queen from the white snowcap covered mountains to the deepest point in the ocean 20,000 leagues under the sea. 

I make you. I make you and I break you, I am you and you are me. Together there is a “we” that is not seen, not apparent yet so obvious. This “we” becomes a sort of dance in our body in which we are both leading and following, learning and unlearning, gasping for air at the thought of a day outside.

I make you like I make my perception of the earth around me grow. I grow as you grow, I weed the bad parts of my life as I quickly discover rot on other areas of my garden. I am a gardener, a tender and distributor of love, nutrients, sustenance and a hope at a life yet to be made. 

I feel you. I feel you inside my life the scratching of a cat wanting to be let inside, like the feeling of starting up your car in the morning when it’s really cold, like the feeling of being stuck in traffic and having to pee, and even like the feeling of accidentally prickling your thumb while putting buttons up. This is you. You are the feeling of a being inside of me, a feeling of a longing I’ve yet to master.

We are seekers. We are seekers of knowledge, love, lust and power. I think that you mindlessly scroll through dating apps hoping to find somebody that will change the perception of what this area is. You expect something different, better, bigger and almost better yet nothing is ahead. This uncertainty, this feeling of angst is shrouded by false interactions, false intentions, false profiles, false advertising and false abs. This feeling of uncertainty is the embodiment of hours of scrolling through an application in which you are interested in no one and yet still everyone. You are a kid in the candy store whining that there are no options when a single piece of Tootsie-Roll was handed to you in a silver plater. 

I say silver because you want gold. We want gold. I feel you like I see gold. I feel you in gold. Gold medals, gold earrings, gold plated 4 inch platform shoes with red trim, 24k gold flaked pizza, gold shimmer for a night out and even gold underwear. 

Here I am in the present tense only knowing what I’ve been taught and dissecting parts of me I’ve yet to realize. I call this present tense the self which is made from my last year,  my last week and my last night. I think of myself as a being coming to terms with this concept bigender. What is it, and, what am I? 

For now, I feel you.

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