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Jojo is a queer lil enby, who somehow made it through medschool and tries to navigate the world. Writing sometimes them to make sense of things. Here are some of their feelings.

“I'm based in Vienna, Austria, actually graduated medschool and would love to work in gender affirming care, but it's a slow process?"

"I write wortbilder (word-images) as I call them, whenever there's the urge to capture something before it escapes or becomes too much to bare - a moment, a feeling, an intrusive thought, anything really. I'm submitting three wortbilder (poems) that really don't have anything to do with one another, and if you chose just one (or none) that's also perfectly fine"

IG: @trite_n_stupid



bold bois don’t need anyone 

to hug them when they can 

tie themselves up 

all alone 

bold bois know how to smile 

and breathe against the chains 

they embrace themselves in 

so they don’t 

float away

bold bois know how to hold 

their heads up high and drift 

in and out of moments 

softly, and swiftly

allowing themselves to be moved 

without breaking 

have you been a bold boi?

wrapping yourself tightly 

in straps of black leather 

to look fabulous and also 

to keep yourself from falling apart 

bold bois watch their reflections 

their sleek power, the glint of metal

and smirk satisfiedly

at how deep they buried 

the fragile fluttering in their chest 

bold bois welcome the pain

they know how to bleed 

and how to keep singing 

while they choke 

on all the words they don’t 

dare to speak

have you been a bold boi? 

brandishing your love like 

a white flag, waving

waiting patiently 

to get shot in the head 

have you been a bold boi? 

picking yourself up

putting yourself back together 

ever so carefully 

to try again


i swam with a merboi 

tangled our legs in seaweed

let the icy water wash us away 

dipped my head underneath the waves 

until my thoughts froze 

my skin prickled 

and laughter broke the surface 

so free and light, so loved and loving

i was barely there at all 

and had the wind picked up 

the waves pulled just a little more 

i swear i would’ve 



after three mountains i stepped into the lake

felt the currents move against my skin

until the cold got prickly

dunked my head in twice

and let the wind and sun dry me gently 

a little cloudburst, a scoop of 

lemon flavored ice cream 

a train and a car ride later 

we finally made it back to the house 

limbs tired and aching

leaden but deeply satisfied 

the crickets are chirping

in the distance thunder rumbles 

but there’s sunshine on the patio 

on my face, on my lips

beer cold and fizzy in my mouth 

daisies swaying in the evening breeze

this, i think, is how life should be 

it’s one of the summer days that 

feel endless and magical 

and just so stunningly beautiful 

that for a brief moment, we can keep

our eyes wide open and don’t think 

about the rest of the world even once

midnight daydreams

put a hand on your sternum

splay your fingers and

press down gently

feel it

the heaving against stuttering beats


claws razor-sharp, pressing a little deeper until

you feel it warm and wet

pulsing around your fingertips

and press down deeper still to

curl your cold fingers around the curve of your rib

grip tightly and with the next shuddering breath


the creaking cartilage

against the building pressure and pull, yank until it

breaks free

with a squelching sound, exhale against

splintering pieces of bone

wet warm and sticky

gurgling gushes soaking the fabric but

you don’t care you just

loosened the corsage a little

and it didn’t even

hurt that much so you

grin around the metal taste, unclench

your fist reaching for the next

rib to break them all

until you’ve ripped, torn

bent apart

a gaping hole that is

big enough to

crawl out

a rare pleasure

the afternoon felt like

a long hug and a dance-y wiggle

like taking a deep breath or a quiet giggle

casually bumping shoulders

tangling cool fingers

taking a picture to remember

our reflections crouching side by side

in the corner of a mediocre exhibit

a violently pink sunset cloud, der sichelmond

gelber muskateller on my tongue

a smile settling on the corner of my mouth

saying thank you for sharing, thank you

for being here, for taking the time,

for making this easy

feeling seen and heard and valued

stumbling towards the train station

sweaty and out of breath

a blurry hug between closing doors

trying to swallow the absurd gratefulness

a hint of wistful aftertaste

(missing you already)


i’m a mess of aching joints and ungainly limbs that i force to take me places

be kind, my knee implores me, painfully

kindly please shut up i tell it

and let me run in peace

rest, says my sore achilles tendons

yeah just let it rest, i snap at it

and don’t act up again

i’m already walking, on the verge of tears where i should’ve been running

wild and joyful

or angry and spiteful

or tired and wheezing

but the point is - running

i should be running

with a hammering heart and burning lungs and light feet and the good kind of aches after, the ones that pull your muscles ever so deliciously, the pain that tastes like accomplishments and comfort

instead of whatever the fuck this bitter limping, this lingering sadness is supposed to be

i’m doing my best, okay? i tell them

but can you please




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