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The first three hours don’t hurt, but
the last two hundred do. The tattoo
table holds me taut, my endorphins
radiating temporary highs. Turns out
tempered resilience outlasts regimes.

Bio-inked-needles cycle from scratches
into scraping metal on skin, as they
create on me a stunning horror.

Scalp to toenail, bioluminescent tattoos
coat my body, skin turned an emotional
color wheel by vibrant self-illuminating
polychromatic purples & pinks & then
aquas & ambers. Bioluminescence spells
out in abstract typography each word
of their one-sided written constitution.

The government language I defied
now emblazes my every living cell.

For eleven years I graffitied willing skin
& on receptive concrete anti-State,
wholesome revolutionary action.

Caught beautifying an agricultural college’s
admin building, they shipped me away
twenty lightyears, threw me into a prison
box somewhere in the spiral arm’s capital.

Now here I live, within a glass box jail
in the middle of buzzing downtown.

I’m a captivating art piece on display,
a breathing neon propaganda sign
producing its own light to illuminate
a sadistic incarcerator’s idioms.

I’m a model who no one loves. I have no
long, horizontal runway below me, merely
vertical glass panes & gawkers inspecting
vivid tattoos only bright through my skin
because of the endless battle between my
immune system & embedded phosphorus.

Children come up & read my skin,
cock their heads, snicker while learning
only the value of human advertising.

At night I’m furnished a tattoo machine
along with tech to upkeep their artwork.
Forced to craft my own light, my own hope,
I secretly infuse each tattoo with bioelectric
transmitters powered by body heat & muscle.

Anyone near with a wireless receiver
will hear my body scream, “hack me—
come rewrite their displayed laws.”

I was ordered to showcase these colored scars
in public humiliation, as if revealing my only value.

Soon instead, I’ll display how to rewrite society.



Casey Aimer is a science fiction poet who holds master’s degrees in both poetry and publishing. He works for a non-profit publishing science research articles and is founder of Radon Journal, an anarchist science fiction semiprozine. His poetry has been featured in Space and Time Magazine, Apparition Lit, Star*Line, Heartlines Spec, and many more. His work has been a Rhysling Award finalist and Soft Star Magazine contest winner. An SFWA and SFPA member, he can be found on Bluesky and at CaseyAimer.com.
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5 Oct 2026

In time, the entire shift’s 138 Express inbound transfers are processed, and I’m free to service passengers from other lines. These transfers are unremarkable. These passengers aren’t refugees.
Forgive me, someone.
Turn on the stove. See it startle.
In this episode of Critical Friends , the Strange Horizons criticism podcast, Dan Hartland is joined by Ryan Elliot and Rosanna Pendlebury, to ask questions about literary SFF. What is it? How do we know it when we see it? And what’s it good for?
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