you didn’t hurt me, nothing can hurt me

By Daniel Sheen

you can’t see my wings anymore. a rabbit-hearted boy, patron saint of youth and rage, carrying the shame of wanting something good. and yet i sit at the back of every church. in every lost town. in every lost world. blinded by the incense. although the churches have been locked for years. no one tries to open them. people pray in other ways now. to different gods, with plastic chandeliers. the blasphemy of dried blood hiding beneath peach coloured band aids. instead, the wild takes over. glacier-carved, star-gulping forest all the way to the horizon. honeysuckle and dog roses. whole cities steeped in warm darkness that no one saw coming. foxes watch as we drive by. tongues out, nodding their heads in unison. they remind me of childhood—that feral stink of tar and piss and blood. the hum of violently weaponised loneliness. the way we set fire to the world. the way we welcome in the flames, burning something new. all our dark thoughts blown away by the wind.

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Daniel Sheen is a queer artist and writer. He's been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, Longlisted for the 2025 Caledonian First Novel Award and is the Winner of the 2026 Hartnett Queer Fiction Award. He's currently writing his debut trilogy of novels. Find him at: www.danielsheen.net - Instagram: @daniel.sheen - X: @Daniel_Sheen