Work Text:
It’s wrong.
The world is tilted.
Why do they exist,
why can’t they be gone?
Fuck gender, fuck bodies!
We’re all just meat with brains in the end.
They’re always there, parasites.
I feel gross.
My flesh bag isn’t mine.
I stole it. I think.
Maybe not, I would never choose this.
This rotted shell was forced upon me.