PHANTOM — SONIA XIANG

if you watch the horizon as the brute force of curdled summer air burned through the smell of feces you might just find a boy, limbs sawed off. you see, no one ever mentioned that the plaster he so desperately slathered onto his collapsing frame oozing over exposed bone started rotting his skin like the poor excuse of his laugh or the bird he found two summers ago tucked in the shadows of his treehouse flesh gurgling. every time their gaze stole his body, molten he could not help but flail–the glue never dried after all, mucus trailing his steps swallowing everything he touched, strange what an odd boy. he reeked of desperation decay spilling from his bloodied knees empty pleas to a sky bleached barren for pieces to fall together the way the rain molds into snow pierced flesh to dust even rotten was something he could never become. if you watch the horizon as the frost starts to pierce the curdled summer air, you will begin to notice the boy that was reaching for the sun never had limbs at all.

Sonia identifies as queer and aa&pi. pg.