Trans Humanism

 Poetry

Vivienne Knouse-Frenzer 

My trans-humanist cyber-punk crust-punk fuck hunk 

Stunk up my bathroom with horrid horrid spunk 

Tell him to get lost 

He reassured me with his laundry-warm embrace and lack of personal space that he would 

Change for the better (he’s telling the truth). 

But between the infrequent radiowaves and 3-4 methylenedioxymethamphetamine raves, 

Late night trolly problematiques hopped up on previously mentioned molly bodies caution me 

To say “don’t spit on it before you’ve washed your mouth.” 

But he is phycially incapable, mouth too jarbled, too marbled. 

Teeth like fungal wastes like dark-web harddrives like spit-roast toasts to pagan gods 

And/or goddessess.  

How your lack of fluoride is so so attractive 

Sandpapering any individuality until you’re unique enough 

So please stop crying as the doctors’ and grandmas’ grimace  

Because you really, really need to take a shower.