I bite down on my tongue when I am running so I can taste the blood -

wet hot and fresh it pumps through me, around and through the open wound

filling my mouth with life,

ivory enamel smeared on a Pan Am Smile,

‘Liability’ by Lorde blasting through a cold car stereo while the wind bangs its

fists on a lonely Friday night

I relive the first time I felt hunted in my own city

The walls have eyes.

The seagulls warn me of a presence in the alley way - I reward them with the

dinner I will not eat to get one step closer to ‘perfect’

To have long hair is to be feminine, but to be feminine is to be a target

I bunch it in my beanie, showing unshaven armpits and legs, no makeup, one

airpod in my ear screaming;

SUBDUE THE FOREIGN

SUBDUE THE FOREIGN

SUBDUE THE FOREIGN

Suddenly I am an alien -

If being foreign will get me home at night,

then I will become an alien in my own skin.