my notes app hates me,

with a vengeance, and so does my brain.

in updates that happen at the worst possible moment,

unmaskings, discoveries, in-app purchases.

in the spaces of 1am rantings,

poetry i wrote in sixth grade,

reminders about homework—i never

looked at them again yet they are ceaseless

quote lists from mildly unhinged DMs

erasure art from taylor swift lyrics

for tortured poets, anthologies of the queer

affirmations from...the internet, transcripts

from webinars you saw on instagram, contact information and

things you said that made me wonder if you're real and

paragraphs i never bothered to turn

into static soft PDFs.

i want to rediscover an off switch—or at least a way,

no matter how convoluted, to function offline.

to live forever in the synaesthesia trance

of belonging—to turn off autocorrect

become imperfect yet atypical

like queerness and everything else

and my notes app still hates me

and my brain and i have reached a truce

at least for the next two

mk zariel (it/they) is a BashBack influenced transmasculine neuroqueer dyke anarchist.