Alain Ginsberg is an agender writer and performer from Baltimore City, MD, whose work focuses on narratives of gender, sexuality, and mental health and the ways in which trauma infuses, informers, and coils itself around them. Their work has been featured or is forthcoming from Freeze Ray, Public Pool, Shabby Doll House, and elsewhere. Outside of writing and performing they are found in caves growing out of the natural formed ceilings.
Fact: my brother always reminds me of bugs
Disclaimer: he is never the same kind
Fact: there are only two types of bugs
Disclaimer: I am not a bug expert
Fact: there are only two types of bugs,
chillers and haters
Fact: chillers are buddies
friends
pals
they have taken the colloquially accepted chill pill
Fact: haters refused said chill pill
they are the picnic of ants
the pantry of roaches
the moth eggs in my bag of rice
Disclaimer: moth eggs taste really bad
Fact: bees, spiders, and the house centipede are chillers, surprisingly
Fact: my brother would catch bees by the poolside and throw them at me
his hands are full of pollen, my lungs
scuba instructors
I would hold my breath for so long, like my cheek,
because I thought it was something I must.
Fact: the only time I have been stung by a bee was when I stepped
onto a dead one, killed in the rain.
It must’ve been washing off all the pollen.
Disclaimer: chillers can lose their cool
can transform and become rascals.
Bees sting to protect the hive and dance to communicate
Spiders bite out of fear and eat the pests we wish didn’t exist in the
first place
and the House Centipede only exist in homes that already
need an exterminator.
Fact: my brother used to tease the kids at school by eating bugs
Fact: my brother is a rascal
Fact: my brother is stung in the neck by a bee and almost dies
his hands let go of pollen, his body stops chasing bees
Fact: my irrational fear of bees grants me my first college friends
Disclaimer: I am not an interpretive dancer
but this is
what they saw.
Fact: my brother tells me that our father grew us
to become flowers
says that he pollinated our mouths
says that it would be in the shower
as if that could wash the stains away
says that these memories flood his eyes
a picnic of ants
a pantry of roaches
his bag of moths eggs hatching
that they exist in the darkest parts of us
Disclaimer: there’s no point in disputing a repressed memory you have no
cause not to believe
Disclaimer: my brother has inherited this ability to bite back now
Disclaimer: I have only gained a fear that it would happen again but
Fact: I am searching for bee hives
I am tripping into spider webs
I am hoping my body becomes house centipede
Fact: I have been holding my cheek for so long,
like my breath,
because I thought it was something I must.