Photo from the shoulders-up of the author in profile. They are not wearing a top so you can see their bare chest and a tattoo of a bird on their right shoulder. They are looking off-camera towards the right. They have shoulder-length curly brown hair. About three feet behind them is a wall with many posters on it.
Thomas Hobohm (they/them) is a writer from SF by way of Texas. They're interested in interrogating queer desire and the will to intersubjective knowledge. When they're not reading or writing, they like to play volleyball or explore independent cinemas around San Francisco. They can be found on Twitter: twitter.com/thomashobohm.
sry
thomas hobohm
I came to this world quite confused because the two flags looked the same. Quite confused
because I wanted to top in a dress and high heels. Quite confused because they wanted a bottom
cop sailor super soldier. Still I played my part, stepped inside the Eagle where my family beat in
and out of me, daddies demanded I chomp cigarettes, eat, boy, but actually daddy, not a boy, and
actually daddy it didn’t work, I got high off the nicotine and now it’s a pack a day all over the
bay. My body is a map they stick pushpins in, so that now it all just leaks out—do you want to
see? I have a video. I have so many holes and still I need more. I picture myself with just one
extra hole and I get so wet. That’s my ugly secret. A guy on Grindr figured me out, said,
“im just not into fem guy sry”
“who said I was fem??”
“u have long hair”
I hope his dick falls off tonight.
A full-body photo of the author sitting on the edge of an unmade bed wearing black Marc Jacobs Kiki boots (high platform boots that go up to their knees), a Marine Serre fishnet top covered with a pattern of crescent moons, and a black bralette. The author’s body is facing the camera from above, but their head is tossed to the right, so that their head and hair is blurry and you can’t make out what their face looks like.