My Organs Are in Love with Each Other: And It's Killing Me on Mosher Mag

Somatic grief, erotic decay, and the unbearable intimacy of being alive.

I think my liver wants to fuck my lungs. They ache when I breathe. They whisper to each other when I sleep. There’s something obscene happening inside me — an intimacy I didn’t consent to, a love story I was born into.

My body has always been too much.

Too hot. Too loud. Too fast. Too queer. Too tender in places you’re not supposed to show.

It grieves itself constantly.

Like my spleen never forgave my heart for that one night in 2016.

Like my stomach keeps digesting the memories I swore I buried.

Like my skin is just the curtain, and backstage, everyone is sobbing.

No one talks about somatic grief — how mourning settles in the hips, how heartbreak gets stored in your throat, how shame hides behind your kidneys like a coward.

We carry everything. We’re mausoleums in motion.

And lately, it feels like all my internal systems are falling in love with their own suffering.

My heart is obsessed with my gut — she keeps sending pulses that make me nauseous.

My lungs exhale only regret. My bones are masturbating to old pain. I can’t move without feeling some kind of erotic collapse.

I am the site of a tragic romance.

A slow-burn affair between flesh and failure.

And it’s beautiful. And it’s brutal.

It's hot. It's holy. It's fucked up. And I wouldn’t trade it for something clean.

There’s something divine about breaking down in unison.

Like when your ribs clench—not from fear, but from lust.

When your spine curves like it’s praying to pain.

When your body holds funerals for parts of you that you haven’t even lost yet.

We are not separate from our sadness. We house it.

We are the lovers, the battlefield, the eulogy, the wet sheets.

Maybe this is what it means to be alive:

To decay erotically.

To rot in rhythm.

To ache with poetry in places you can’t even name.

Because inside this corpse-in-progress, there’s art.

There’s lust.

There’s life.

My organs are in love with each other.

And it’s killing me.

And it’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.

For the freaks, by the freaks.

Thanks for reading. Stay strange.

✦ moshermag.com