Izzy (Last Name Redacted) - 2024 Aug 23rd

A Saga of Sass

(The Story of Cass)

I’ve known many a wildling

in my lifetime.

They fuel my rhymes

and add vodka to limes.

But this piece here is

glamorous trash.

My best mate and housemate -

the one and only Cass.

A transgender with an agenda

of chaos and petty crime.

High tea one day,

the next racking lines.

A paradox. Awkwardly charismatic.

A brave bitch in boots

with a history of traumatics.

Ever-evolving, ever-changing.

She gives but a single fuck.

Unless you’re ugly or late.

Hates the cost of living and

the stray hairs she has to pluck.

The other week

she ran away from hospital

in the rain.

Clad in socks,

psychosis wearing off

and never to be admitted again.

She cut her fringe too short.

Gets frustrated when she takes

the pom for a walk.

She loses false nails.

Hides a knife under her pillow

and often derails.

She’s a beauty queen.

Even in the panda-eyed, sesh gremlin

dressed as a divorce lawyer scene.

She likes tennis and abstract art.

Loves a mini skirt.

Screams into the dark and

prefers watersports over a flirt.

When unwell, in the mirror

she sees demons.

Yet all I see is the betrayal bestowed

upon her by despoiling heathens.

She poses

in the middle of the road

for selfies.

I buy her cake when she’s sad.

Smokes like it’s going out of fashion.

And I want to be adopted by her dad.

She listens to emo rap

and loves a good sale.

I pay for her lashes

so she isn’t perceived

as male.

But she’s prettier than her sister.

Even pre-transition and the pre-enby

mister.

Her idol - Lindsay Lohan.

She prints strange sweatshirts.

She despises the gays,

leads them astray

and needs a little pill

to make her dick work.

HRT, right?

She thinks

I’m one of the smartest people

she knows,

even though this morning

she had to tell me

where ants live.

She’s not one to forget

and doesn’t always easily forgive.

She’s a creative, with all the stories.

She keeps reality hidden

but weaves tales and arts

of false glories.

We complain about men

and being misgendered.

I still call her ‘dude’ and ‘bro’

and she’s never offended.

Platonically married,

we shared a bed.

I bum-scooted her off,

and the marriage was dead.

My disheveled diva.

The Mariah to my Selena.

You’re so far from normal,

but my god, Cass,

you’re a keeper.