MD Saunders

MD Saunders is a poet, writer, musician, and artist born and raised in the Dorchester neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts. Saunders’ work has appeared in various publications such as Boston Latin School Argo, Another Classroom Courier, Teen Voices Magazine, The Harvard Crimson, In Parentheses Magazine, IMPOSE Magazine, She Shreds Magazine, et. al. She has published numerous zines and currently authors both the Teenage Hotdog zine and the website. She loathes writing bios. Saunders currently resides in Boston.

 

The Rot

 

There

In my copper-lined entrails

There

In the inmost space of my outerness

There

The rot

The rut

 

His mocking

epos of

nervous wiring’s myxoma

He presses me,

I’ve got your number

My cutting,

gagging

colossus alight

He’s warmed

to me

And now, inside

 

In, of, on my ribs

 

I fucking hate you,

I press back

 

The ever non-abiding

 

He jabs, he thrusts, murmurs

Mocks me

He is Satiety

Refuting my pleas for a silent festering

 

My rot’s

attrition arcs

over me

arcs me

How he hunkers and predates

He won’t

let me live

it down

He’s gonna make

Me beg, break, blister for it

As he does

You can’t take me

He (claims he) knows me

So very well

 

Very well, then

 

Take me

Rush it

Rush it

Run it

Pull up then

Pull up then

Gang, gang

Gang, gang

You with the shits

You with the shits

Yes, you can get it

You can get it

Gag me with it

 

Represent your clique

Own your rot

Fester my infinity

 

If you don’t give a damn

Go on and throw it up

 

Cast it out, hold it, hold it

Hurl it

Toss it up, it’s a toss up

Toss it, throw it away, take it

 

Please deeper, harder, please

Please, it’s pulsing

Pulsate, pulsate, purge it

Purge it

Oh, it’s yours

No recumbence

No mercy

 

Nobody can

see me now

I’m floating on

quaking orbs

The balls of my feet

These dear tumors

Hold me up

As I go down, down now

Past the hallow

I found

your pitched embers

I gag, I gulp, I scrape, I scramble

I gouge it

Expel my precious metals so I burn electric

Barren and bereave

I smile and say thank you

To the rot

 

And I wash my hands and slink back to class, back to the discussion of conductivity short circuits, and measure amperage. I sate on my empty. I finally feel, see, am the light that he claimed he saw in me.

 

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