Size / / /

Content warning:


normal god,,, pls let me trannier! glintier!! slipperier!!!

buffoon me into our leggiest flight suit . . . now

sic your physickers on our meat and see their mitres

bounce into the rafters! spitspangled i rise,

eyes a pulverized visor, glass forehead agape (three

syllables): i want to be full of bubbling chemicals.

thumb green, gormless green, mattress

commercial purple. give me 1 more life & i’m blind

open as cut venetians! fresh breaths the crescent grip

of a bow i’ve got both shoulders somehow stuck in.

arrows totter from my ass like pillowdown. i waddle

fallow to the mud, i wallow, alive!!

take that to the bank; suck me all the way

up the tube and settle my complaints. 3 pennies tinkle,

grinning on the tray but don’t sully you, leave them!

leave them, god. i'd feel awful if i knew i'd made you change.

i will lose for us both: I'm growing,

so treat me early. LET ME LIVE. SHOOT ME

INTO SPACE



Like any good great terrible wyrm, Palimrya loves you, which is why she spent seven drops of her precious twiceblood to grant you each an arrow-melty mantle, a full belly, and a wet green biome to bleed in. Find her stories, poems, and roleplaying games on your bathroom floor, and feed her furnace @palimrya on twitter.
Current Issue
19 May 2025

I could live or survive off of bunny breath alone, eating little clouds of fog.
Exceptional measures are required.
By: Elle Engel
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Elle Engel's Half Sick of Shadows read by Emmie Christie Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Spotify⁠⁠
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