transmutation

By Keiran Elden

i can’t stop imagining

how it would feel to be a snake

shed the shell of myself

the skin encasing the fragile

assortment of crumbling bones and

tender tissue, and just

crawl

out

of

myself

i feel like another me—

tiny little thing, wobbling on

stick legs, arms trembling

the wrists of a baby—

is waiting to slither out from

my limp remains

the leather-thick sheets of peeled skin

lying in a pile of cathartic

carnage in the rubbish bin

the numbers lie to me

decreasing even when

i know my lack of

self-control has culminated in

the nebulous growth of every

contaminated      sludge pocket,   leaking

its grime throughout my ever-

swelling frame

i can’t stop thinking

about carving away the fat

knife soaring through flesh

like butter, incisions

draining fluid filth from cracks

of the

amorphous carcass

whose puppet strings

i pull

sometimes i think the easiest

way to limit consumption

would be to consume

nothing at all

—

i keep longing to be empty

and i keep forgetting the lesson

i learned drowning in

that unreal place:

emptiness is starvation

emptiness is the body’s swan song

emptiness leaves no life to drawfrom

________________________________________

Keiran Elden (he/they) is a writer and college student from New York. He has been passionate about writing since childhood, and he strives to create art that is as emotionally sincere as possible so that his readers do not feel alone. His work has been published by Bending Genres Journal, Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine, Punk Monk Magazine, Dream Noir Magazine, and more.