Living our queer, twisted truth. Stories, art, love, and cantankerous cats.
She left again. The suitcase zipped. The trust, unzipped.
In Scroll 16, the cats of Underland contemplate vanishing acts, unreliable affection, and the sacred betrayal of a closed door.
Love, they remind us, should not require a return ticket.
If she comes back without chicken—look away. Slowly. With purpose.
A poem in two voices, two bodies, and one shared inheritance.
Woman in Two Parts explores identity beyond binaries—through violence, transition, reclamation, and radical self-love.
Where one part breaks, the other rebuilds.
Where one erases, the other remembers.
Together, they ask: what remains of “woman” when the world tries to define her for you?
This week in Poe’vices, democracy is a concept, Beyoncé is a celestial being, and Poe is here to remind us that snacks are sacred and immunity is a vibe.
Accompanied by the release of the Diplomatic Immunity™ Chicken Dip Plate Set, Poe offers spicy wisdom, poultry-based policy, and unsolicited legal commentary.
The verdict?
Shut up. Sit down. Eat chickens.
You’re not Beyoncé.
Rain, rabies, and ridiculous returns. This week’s mood? Bureaucratic despair with a side of soggy capitalism. But hey—we’re still packing, still protesting, and still clinging to the dream (and maybe a cat).
There is a suitcase in the hallway.
Rodgit has vanished. Poe is acting… cuddly.
Akela Jean Underland does not approve.
In this week’s Catdiva Monologue, she processes the scent of betrayal, the encroachment of affection, and the growing threat of something called “Thailand.”
Elegance endures. Trust does not.
This is a grave marker for a language no longer spoken. A final breath, a farewell carried in the voice of Akuntsu — a people erased, a tongue unrecorded. There are no archives, no recordings, no translations. Just this. A voice remembering its speaker. A name that still echoes.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Rodgit has vanished. Mowgli has not.
In this week’s velvet lament, our Blanket Prophet chronicles the bitter ache of feline abandonment. From ceremonial meows to silent thresholds, justice is sought, warmth is withheld, and trust is—once again—flushed like a forgotten Dreamie.
Absence isn’t silence. It’s strategy.
Rodgit is gone. The bowl is full, but the cushion is cold.
This week’s Catanic Verses ponders the ones who vanish when it matters most.
Trust, like tuna, does not reheat well.
Scroll 15.11 reminds us: if they only arrive for sunshine, they were never truly yours.
