Untitled by Moss

“Wish You Were Here” by Moss. You can peruse and buy their art here.

my head against the van window/i hear snippets of conversation/“…jenner”/“i just don’t understand that sort of thing”/the conversation moves on/as these conversations do/i say nothing

the bathrooms here are unisex/i hear a parent say to their child/“these are for men and women”/i look at the bathroom sign/i am the white line in between two defined areas/i say nothing

“and the waves of conversation/laughter/shouts/around me are suffocating”

i can’t find the people i came with/and the waves of conversation/laughter/shouts/around me are suffocating/i went to the ocean once and was knocked over by waves/even now i can feel the riptide tugging at me/my phone is dying/i find a quiet spot and say nothing

the city is stretched out before me/i find some solace in its multicolored lights/i find more in the calm living darkness above it/lit softly by stars/3 students take pictures next to me of themselves/of the cityscape/laughing

“are you ok”/i am fine/(i am not fine)/(i am thinking about so many things)/the thin white line drags me down into its riptide/overheard conversations rise to greet me/i say nothing/and keep walking

morning comes/as mornings do/and music is the background for it/breakfast is content and filled with coffee/and meaningless words

“just what i like to see; beautiful women in a kitchen”/presumptions and assumptions/the thin white line is here as well/cutting off the words in my mouth/i say nothing and drink coffee

“why should i be careful / they were as careful as they should have been & they are dead still”

“our thoughts and prayers”/”be careful”/i am not careful/why should i be careful/they were as careful as they should have been & they are dead still/i wrap cardboard boxes/thinking of other boxes made of wood/and say nothing

“i am angry”/”i am sad”/god, i am terrified/i know i don’t belong/i say a few words and eventually they all come pouring out/i am on the bathroom floor texting my family/my sister asks my pronouns/my brother calls me by my name

i still feel that thin white line/but it is thinner now/the riptide is still there but i can swim in the ocean/i speak my thoughts/i keep walking forward/even as the water rises

Moss lives in a weird little room in a weird little house in a weird little city where it rains a lot. Sometimes they make tacos at night while swigging orange juice straight from the carton, in clear defiance of sanitation and a sense of human decency. They think the world is equally weird and beautiful, and they try to make art that is certainly weird and maybe a little beautiful. Their digital art can be found at redbubble.com/people/kmossifer


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