containment breach

by Lizzie Frank

necessary // we are all hungry things // holding ourselves back on the verge of uninhibited connection // sinking into the mud // seaweed under my armpits and tangled around my neck // trying to escape you // I saw a UFO once and my life stayed the same // I am always in that room. I can never go anywhere else // I am sorry for the wrong I have done // I am sorry for the things that put me in here // hopping on the train and hopping off, no ticket necessary // not anymore // i have dreamt about sinking every night this week // pocketing candy though I crave red meat // a vortex held in my gut // turning my face toward the shower head // not sure when I got so much blood in my hair // is moonlight such a crime // be careful when you synonymize darkness with sin // I want to be let out, but they are not so sure I would return // when they’ve let me out before, I haven’t come back // I hear the trains running in my dreams. I cannot look at the clock without thinking about the trains // an earthquake in my blood // the natural world belongs to me // naked mornings with the driest dirt between my teeth and raw meat I bit into freshly churning in my stomach // but they keep me inside down // howling // hungry // sinking

Lizzie Frank is a writer from upstate New York. He has published poetry, short stories, and two novellas. He writes scripts for Acting Out New York, an on-camera acting school for kids and young people. Lizzie is co-Editor-In-Chief of Nonsense Humor Magazine. Lizzie also works for Q Chat Space, an online discussion space for LGBTQ+ teens 13-19 years old. He is most interested in surrealist narratives, gothic horror, magic realism, and when all three intersect. Lizzie is the winner of the 2020 Eugene Schneider Prose Contest with “Reverie.”