Don’t you threat
A combative exploration of the fetishization of feminine queerness.
To you, I am inconsequential. I am a concept, a bittersweet notion too good to be true. “For sweetheart it’s ok to cheat,” her boy said, “As long as it is with her, and not a dude.” Fuck Atwood, and her internalised gaze - that even I am a thing for a man. My building blocks are the same as sun rays yet I am a fetish personified- it was all society's plan. ‘As long as he can watch…’ ‘Looking for a third...’ Dating in unappealing adverts- Feeling like a caged bird. Fuck you, the fetishizer of the dame. That a plastic cock couldn’t be as orgasmic. God forbid a woman knows her the same, Silly, ‘There’s no reason for her to leave organic.’
An exploration of insecurity in queerness, based on experience clubbing.
That girl was looking at you. Huh? I think she must’ve liked your vibe. Or your smile. Or your scent. The way you forget to be self-conscious for a moment For a swig of rum and coke For a chorus of a song, as the bass trembles against your vertebrae. She must’ve liked something, for you are very likeable. Her eyes aren’t leaving you Her standards haven’t dropped. I think you’re mistaken, dear friend. Nobody is looking.
Jo, who is new to the published writing world, is a recent graduate from the University of Brighton. She aims to embark on many forms outside of poetry including scripts and prose, whilst also evoking the theme of sexuality in conjunction with emotion. To find more of her work, check out @ill.iteracy on Instagram.