I feel such a deep, piercing depression. It feels like a railroad spike pinning my chest to the tracks and feeling the ground beneath begin to tremble.

I’m going to die.

I don’t know when, or how.

This depression is a bitter my soul craves like I used to crave strong, black coffee. It’s waking me up.

Every time I cry lately, I feel more disillusioned. As in, less illusioned. More awake.

I wrote about death recently. How I’ve had a closer relationship with it than with life. How death and pleasure are intertwined.

I think at this point I’d call myself a hedonist—I live for pleasure. But not at the expense of pain. As Brené Brown somewhat famously said, “We cannot selectively numb emotions”. To deny pain is to deny pleasure. To seek pleasure exclusively is to deny pain.

There is a pleasure in simply being alive and embracing experience as it comes. There is a pleasure that walks hand-in-hand with this wrenching pain in my chest, the persistent ache in my throat, and the weight of an uncertain future sitting in my pelvis.

These feelings remind me I am alive, and that I have a chance. Even if nothing else, a chance to feel my lungs fill with air, and release. Just one more time. And then, graciously, again. And again. And again.

I don’t believe there is anything we are objectively “supposed” to do or be or become as humans. There is nothing wrong with the world. It is full of pain, and yes, it is (in my opinion) one of the greatest pleasures to alleviate that pain when we can. This is the vantage point from which I am learning to approach my life.

I make art because expressing my pain feels good. I do what I can to help others in pain because helping others feels good, even when it’s inconvenient. I am working on decolonizing my mind because dethroning the old white man, the cop, the wife-beater, the angry white-bearded god, the sexy white Jesus, and the compliant, selfish, weak white woman in my head feels good.

I don’t believe in good people and bad people. I believe in people who know how to find (and create) pleasure in anything, and people who know how to find (and create) misery in anything. I am both. But misery is nothing to live for. The part of me who obsessively miserifies my life is dying, leaving only the part of me who lives to find pleasure in everything.

Dying hurts a lot. It hurts to let go. It hurts to say goodbye to a version of myself, and realize it wasn’t me who left, but an illusion of me. I have died again and again, but I am still breathing. I am still alive. My body is now a garden full of sprouts poking through dead leaves and flowers. My body is a graveyard where the dead still talk at night. My body is a glass stained with wine from yesterday’s supper.

But death, and the emptiness on its heels, is only a season. The flowers will bloom again over gracefully forgotten graves, and the washing of the glass will only serve as a reminder of its purpose: to be filled, emptied, filled again, and emptied again, until it is no longer needed.

I choose to embrace death as pleasure, exhale, and orgasm: release.

After all, climax is pleasurable because it temporarily transcends our menial experience. It is temporal, and therefore limited. Value is almost always defined by limitation. Time is so valuable because we are only given so much of it. Life is valuable because of how quickly it can be over. Our bodies are valuable for how fragile they are.

Just as the entire body constricts before a climax, being human is so beautiful because of how wildly limited we are. And maybe, when the human ends, we will realize death is truly an orgasmic release, and we will know, even if only for a moment, what it is like to be truly unbounded.

Until then, Death, tease me every day like a lover. Kiss your way slowly down my neck, shoulders, and spine. Let me anticipate you, and taste you slowly. Let me savor you. Give me time to give you every part of myself. Even your lightest touch leaves me in the throes of ecstasy—I can only imagine what it will feel like when you finally cum for me.

“EVERY TIME” Streaming Now

On January 1st, 2026, MOXIE MAVERICK released “EVERY TIME”: a silly, witchy, gritty hyperpop spell for trans women (and those who relate) to turn hate into money, fame, and sexy, unfuckwithable confidence.

Listen Now

Lyrics

I heard some of you bitches been
Talking some crazy shit about me
So if you're listening
I just want you to know I get it
I mean I'd be hating on me too
If my only talents were getting jealous
And having explosive diarrhea
Have you ever considered changing your diet
Anyway I'd like you to consider this
Your official invitation to
Hate on me to your heart's content
But first you should know that

Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame

Fuck a love and light return to sender
Put a hating bitch in the fucking blender
Healthy breakfast like a bloody smoothie
While they watch me in the fucking movies
Illiterate cunt this is hyperbole
Cannibalistic eat your energy
Pray the gay the wicked witch away
But incognito is your happy place

Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame
Every time they say my name
I get paid get laid get fame

The second they was outta the house I was screaming
Speaking the vocals energetically cleaning
When they get back they will see I am leaving
They can't imagine a life that has meaning
I do not consent to codependency
Push and pull me at the risk of liberty
And by liberty I mean your head is free
From your body for my fucking art gallery bitch

Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name
I get paid
I get laid
I get famous
Private plane
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name
I get paid
I get laid
They afraid cuz
MOXIE made it

Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Bitch say my name

‘STAY’ Streaming Everywhere

In December 2025, MOXIE MAVERICK released their debut EP ‘STAY’, a spoken word journey born from MOXIE’s lived experience as a queer person raised in the religiously saturated rural Midwestern United States.

Totaling 4 tracks, the album begins with a reading of names of those in the US trans community who were murdered in 2024. The title track is in recognition of a young queer acquaintance who committed suicide in 2022.

As a whole, the album is a plea for the queer community to stay earth-side, a poignant testament to queer courage and struggle, and tangible evidence of our existence in the face of vile oppression.

Listen Now

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Buy/download 'STAY' on bandcamp

You’ve been trying to give yourself permission to dream. Stop trying.

You’re aiming for the singularity, but there’s a whole universe waiting for you beyond it.

Do you want the breakthrough, or do you want what’s on the other side of it?

Do you want to try, or do you want to live?

DREAM.