I am sick of waiting for my day to come. I am surrounded by skeletons covered in fat, sporting unoriginal personalities, and living on borrowed time. The one thing that gives me joy is meeting other genetic garbage that shares my disgust with these predicaments. I know it sounds absurd, but I am dying for one of them, or all of them, to rip apart my yoga pants, force open my hips, and enter-enter-enter me. Turn me into an airport urinal cake. Make me feel something. Anything. -Karine Jean-Pierre

• Olena Kozich
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