“The Girl who Melted”

My tits are melting. My armpits are melting. My eyes are melting. I’m producing more fluids than an orgy and feeling far less sexy.


Do people ever truly feel sexy in an orgy? Do people ever truly feel sexy when they’re melting?

sexy metal melting

hashtags of heat

extra savory salaciousness

twisted twilights

never ending numerical

determinations of comfort

25, 31, 38

75, 82, 96

numbers, grades, degrees, and fahrenheit

Does knowing the melting point help ease the inevitable discomfort? Why are melting and freezing given points? Does the spectrum help humanize and personify our bodies subjugation?

Perhaps. Perhaps they remind us that we are subjects lined up on points and spectrums of creations we do not make but give name to. Are we no better than cretins or parasites? Viruses easily disturbed by numerical extremes. Or, maybe we are more like bacteria rather than a virus. Depending on the spectrum and refusing to fall off the edge.

Sometimes, I wish I could melt when the rain falls and that each drop would pull me down into the earth, down into its core, where the temperatures are unfathomable and it’s vulcan movement blends all the elements together to create new ones.

Sometimes, I wish all my elements had melted and been absorbed in the core, so I could no longer feel what it is to melt as my skin pools pockets of sweat in all my glorious folds and crevices sitting on the underground thinking about if they had dug just a little deeper, we would be in the belly of the Earth pulsing with her rhythms and reminded that it any minute she could swallow us whole, break us down, and make us into something new.

I once met a girl who had melted. She explained it quite matter-of-factly. She had gotten up that morning at her usual time, took the same tramline, and drank the same two latte macchiatos she always did. She was giving a presentation to a major tech company about the importance of employee engagement and receiving feedback when she pointed to the board realizing that there was a dripping stump where her index finger used to be. As the presentation continued, she was forced to slam her elbows on the keyboard to switch slides as her hands had completely dissipated. Yet, she persisted until her tongue had melted in her mouth, and she had accidentally swallowed it like you do with snot when you have a runny nose. She continued until all that was left were her shins and feet rigidly planted between the projector screen and the computer.

Three days later, the attendees submitted their presentation feedback report unanimously agreeing that it was the most informative presentation they had ever had, but the presenter herself was a bit “lackluster.” 

She re-emerged two weeks later, still no head, swimming in the canal, splashing and bubbling about. She paddled through me as I melted into the Spree.

The Wicked Podcast: Episode 3: Colours (podcast)

Hey Everybody! If you got some time and an open mind, check it out! This is my third ever podcast session, so I truly hope you enjoy the listen.


Colour is a powerful yet often overlooked force. In our hyperactive age, it’s easy to forget that colours have long solidified allegiance, status, brands, and tradition. Is it time to reconsider this everyday phenomenon? How, for example, might colour affect someone who is colorblind? What might skin tone indicate in a future society where whites are no longer the majority? And are we exploiting colour to toxic levels? Welcome to the Wicked Podcast, where imagination unfurls! PLUS: Following the outro music, hear a poem from our special guest, Nia Calloway — winner of April’s Wicked Poetry Slam also themed Colours.

SOUNDCLOUD: https://soundcloud.com/wickedpodcast/colours

“5:33AM 1987”

It was never going to happen. It was never supposed to happen, but his eyes opened. The heart monitor flatlined as he unplugged himself. Legs weak from dystrophy, they bowed beneath the weight of him. He toppled into a wheelchair reacclimating himself to being alive again.

Where was it coming from? The window was left open and the song was falling from the sky.

The hospital was hollow and the note drops echoed loudly on the roof. He climbed steps his muscles having forgotten how to do so. Forwards and upwards. Pushing the emergency bar to the roof, he was greeted by the the coarse morning air, and there she was, almost translucent. Hospital gown blowing in the moonlight, pale and thin, the waning moon radiated through her.

Stumbling forward behind his words, “I’ve been asleep.”

She turned around, eyes pressed deep into her skull, hollow cheeks, and skin wrapped tight over degenerating muscles. She looked into his eyes, “I refuse to die from this disease.”

She turned around, looked over her shoulder, “Welcome to this world,” and jumped.

Is This What Bravery Feels Like?

Is this what bravery feels like?

Crying in the middle stall of the Schönefeld  airport

Missing you dearly and not regretting a moment, decision, or choice.

Is this what bravery feels like?

Life in two suitcases

One abused violin

and objects left behind never to be reclaimed.

Is this what bravery feels like?

Denying the handouts

Living in an abandoned warehouse

Sleeping on pallets

because your parents said,

“You chose to be that way.”

Is this what bravery feels like?

Ending a marriage of 20 years

To live in a one room apartment

Racking up debt from never having worked a day in your life

Children visiting every other weekend

Loving you, hating you, never understanding you.

Is this what bravery feels like?

Shaving your head to hide in a basement bar

With foreign tongues lapping your ear for language

As you drink piss tasting piña coladas.

Is this what bravery feels like?

Period sex and discarded tampons

Clots clambering down your leg

Wondering where all the bleeding was truly coming from.

Is this what bravery feels like?

Loving this

Hating this

Living this

Licking this

Just a little taste

And wondering

Is this what bravery feels like?

T.A.N.T.I. Tables. Season 2, Episode 5: Code Switching x Synergizing (podcast)

For those of you who missed my interview and performance on Wednesday, here is the Tanti Table: Code Switching x Synergizing podcast. If you are bummed that you missed the interview/performance, check this out!


Writer, educator, and newly published poet, Allia Sadeghipour joins us this week at the Tanti Table, where we bring together the Thinkers Anecdotes News Taboos & Intersectionality of Berlin & beyond, sip some tea and question the powers that be!

Allia shares how her childhood in Iran and the U.S. shaped her writing style, her commitment to code-switching, and the importance of being seen in our communities. Her new book of poetry, The Ghosts of Berlin traces the haunting and alluring forms of our brutal yet beautiful Berlin. She’s been featured in the magazine What’s Afghan Punk Rock Anyway?, created by our co-host Armeghan Taheri, so we talk to them about Issue 2- the “love” issue, about the different forms of love, and about duh- about punk rock!

Bear Radio: https://www.bearradio.org/tantitable

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5LXeejZvfnB3IZYJWQHgyU

Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/tanti-table/id1454501328?mt=2

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