FANZINE

start
every sentence with “when i was in rehab for eating” to maintain your false rich white girl image
love your false rich white girl image
coddle your false rich white girl image
let it latch onto your tits and suck
let images suck

this morning, i threw up a clear liquid akin to the non-color of pre-cum behind the minneapolis
convention center, an ode to the displaced politicians of my youth who once gave their best
monologues to the scouting agents of the american public RIGHT HERE in the twin cities. I
#feltthebern of my stomach acids against my throat like one feels the emotive presence of an
instagram geotag at a party that they weren’t invited to. i have a really small mouth. the vomit
was my performance like ginsberg’s “america”; i am patriotic in my red white and blue ways. i
too have given you all but now i am something. needless to say, my audition to the american
public on that sidewalk in southwest minneapolis wasn’t good enough, but i could maybe make
it in porn.

when i think election, i think of the elected.
2008 is to 2016 like millennial is to appropriated navajo rug from urban outfitters
like
what’s it like to have beautiful children,
like
what’s it like to have a savings account,
like
father, like son
like
butter, like margarine
you liken yourself to a box of generic target pasta that is being reheated after recoiling in the
back of your refrigerator since you had friends over for dinner the other night. you think – how
normative, how evil it is to be liked. you are the new form of paternalism that emerges when you
call any given grown man daddy. you taste good.

i feel really gross when i eat foods that are meant to evoke gender
sloppy joe
sloppy jane
rueben
rachel
young
and anorexic, i eat iceberg lettuce and red wine vinegar in front of my peers then shove deli
meats down my throat when the moon can’t even see me through my mom’s cheap kmart
curtains
on sale, i’m sorry, on clearance – 6.98 for two
i am the perfect vegetarian in my nitrate glutton gown

growing up poor but in privileged spaces and being told that you can be anything you want to be
is both toxic and damaging but wholeheartedly necessary if you wanna look like you're going
somewhere. that’s step one. i got away with living like a trust fund art baby until i had medical
bills to pay on my own at 18. thank god for my rich friend idols. the last true americans alive.
am i 26 yet
am i 26 yet
am i 26 yet
because daddy doesn't give me my health insurance
my systematic reassurance that everything is going to be okay                    still
my boyfriend takes 35mm photos of me crying in the midst of hysterics likely so that he can
masturbate to them later.
letting him is step two.

a man tapped my shoulder on the route 11 bus and i thought he was going to ask what i was
reading because i was reading some really heavy theory; that’d make my ego wet as hell
instead, he asked me if he smelled like alcohol like i was a little girlish savior about to reveal his
truths
i was on the verge of vomiting again from the night before because of the smell, now that you
mentioned it
but when he asked
i said no
don’t worry i’m not hitting on you i’m just asking questions, he says
i text r. and thank him for taking the bottle away from me

have you ever tried coke, mom asks; you remember           that
cocaine tastes better running down the back of your throat when you have no money to your
family name and are looking out at the empire state building from the 36th floor of a luxury
apartment in a newly gentrified space "in the making; coming spring 2015". you love manhattan,
you fuck in washington heights. all of the kids in the room study theatre and political science and
share viral social justice posts on the internet. you think you can have it all. the whiteness of the
powder is powerful and a symbol of what it means to be young and wealthy. you don't even
wipe your nose.

what
i am saying is not profound
the male body is not profound
ejaculation is not profound until
it enters you without asking your female body if that is okay
a poem is not profound unless written without asking if writing it would be okay
a poem is not profound unless written without asking if writing it would be okay

————-

_{Dagmar Mimi Harlow refuses to wear a chastity belt for her thoughts. She is currently a BA candidate in Contemporary Critical Theory and Visual Studies at Bard College.}