Millie Meadows, Immortal Doll
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Millie Meadows, Immortal Doll
@milliemeadows.space
190 followers 270 following 370 posts
I'm a doll, and I'm immortal.

🏳️‍⚧️
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milliemeadows.space
The Nutcracker My toddler and I lie down to nap, exhausted. This morning, in pajamas, we sought online the NYC Ballet. With child's wonder, and grace, we danced and danced along. She paused. Watched ballerinas; watched me, in awe. And I, tip-toeing, saw my most meaningful critic neglect to note any important difference. I was who I'd dreamt all those years ago twirling alone in the den. She breathes evenly on my chest, and I wonder what she's dreaming.
November 10, 2025 at 2:42 PM
milliemeadows.space
I've been working on a zine to try to ease politically disengaged middle class white people into learning and caring about trans rights, and I wrote a poem (not for the zine) about how it feels to try to get through to them.
A Poem to Privilege I wring my heart for verse that you will not be forced to find I contemplate as if for my life my heart's mass appeal with good reason can you guess? can the rest? allies fall for lies again, and I fall prey should I slow my roll to simple time should I make it match with simple rhyme? my art is crime, it never pays says the school resource cop he clocked me crossing dotted lines and I knew he was right for once a pen in hand can't buy much but a flashlight to the face maybe I can illuminate what's inside-- I can't help the trying--my head if enough peers don't peer close enough they won't see me dying--only dead
October 9, 2025 at 1:54 AM
milliemeadows.space
y'all what are these for?? I finished the game and never found out

#hades2
a screenshot of the Hades 2 inventory screen. one of the inventory items images is replaced with a poorly drawn picture of a gun that is circled in red. the item name is poorly photoshopped to read"Chekov's Gun", and the description says "??????" The screen indicates that the player has 99 of this item.
October 8, 2025 at 8:49 PM
milliemeadows.space
I wrote a poem about losing a cat.
Lies It always was a lie To say that he was mine. His lives belonged to him, To him alone his nine. It always was a lie To say that he had nine. His time came only once. He closed his eyes and died. And now, once more, I lie. My cat could never die. He sleeps now in my soul And the corner of my eye.
August 29, 2025 at 1:39 PM
milliemeadows.space
Buffalo Dusk By Carl Sandburg The buffaloes are gone. And those who saw the buffaloes are gone. Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how they pawed the prairie sod into dust with their hoofs, their great heads down pawing on in a great pageant of dusk, Those who saw the buffaloes are gone. And the buffaloes are gone.
August 22, 2025 at 2:29 PM
milliemeadows.space
took this photo of a doll next to my morning coffee and now it's my whole personality
A fabric doll laying on a kitchen table next to a cup of coffee. The doll is wearing a yellow dress, laying on her back, and smiling blankly up at the ceiling.
July 14, 2025 at 7:59 PM
milliemeadows.space
seems like a relevant time to post a poem I wrote after the Skrmetti decision and subsequent NYT coverage
There's a great, American factory Manned by the all-American man For whom parent and sistor And mission alone may safely suffix trans. A grand, inexorable factory Where cold men spend expendable lives To fabricate, by day and night, Cheap new ways to sell old lies. True or not, new or not, Everywhere it sells the same. Who's buyin'? Who isn't? The credit line's in some dead name. A paper name still bound to me Is printed down the line in red. It pays to he who owns the keys And leaves with me the debt.
July 4, 2025 at 5:33 PM
milliemeadows.space
I wrote a poem inspired by our good friends at the new york times.
Game Night I weekly clutch forgotten rules and read to awkward, silent stares. I’ve ruined games they thought they knew with truths that they refuse to bear. “It’s just more fun to be carefree,” they roll their eyes in sighed accord. But they are players, not the piece splayed naked on a careless board. They'll bury me beside their guilt, and then play fresh with wrong-sized pawns. They'll say, “It's funny,” years from now, “we used to have the rules all wrong.”
March 29, 2025 at 12:57 AM
milliemeadows.space
lol, loser troll BEGS not to be blocked

"Please, trying to hurt people's feelings online is all I have!"

(screenshot because I did then block)
@thethew.bsky.social reply saying, "Allowing comments on this one? Thanks for taking my advice. Makes social media a lot more social when you don't block your posts from comments. #yougotbrave"
March 27, 2025 at 6:23 PM
milliemeadows.space
A revised (imo improved) version of my poem inspired by trying to convince various Christians in my life not to be transphobic.
I have written this poem before by Millie Meadows In which I claw at crawling skin And peel away the prison to prove A heart can beat within A body that does not belong These stanzas of semi-rhythmic bleeding In which I weep and flail and stain red The proud, insurmountable wall Around a once-kind heart In which I lose my faith In you. Everyone I've ever known Who whispers desperation in the dark And calls the cold silence love.
March 13, 2025 at 7:32 AM
milliemeadows.space
🤦‍♀️ of all the places to post an image without alt text
UNITED WE STAND peaceful protest to protect democracy 50 protests 50 states 1 movement Every state and city hall February 17th at 12p.m. www.fiftyfifty.one
February 15, 2025 at 2:17 PM
milliemeadows.space
Me to wife: leg hair is natural and normal and it's stupid that society demands women have smooth legs

Me to me:
Doomguy with epilators poorly photoshopped over top of his weapons with large, red text that reads "rip and tear until it is done"
February 11, 2025 at 7:19 PM
milliemeadows.space
Once again I find myself writing a poem about realizing I was trans that's actually just about religious trauma. Thank God.
I have written this poem before by Millie Meadows The one in which I lose my faith In you. Everyone I've ever known Who counts on God To do their loving for them. In which I grasp at crawling skin And peel away the prison To prove my withered heart Is not where it belongs This stanza after stanza after stanza after stanza of semi-rhythmic bleeding That takes me much longer to learn to stop Than I deserve or you desire. But this time I do stop. To breathe. And think. And breathe. Unkempt claws clash with cracking shell Until your lie lies eviscerated by feral veracity. The voracious cruelty constructed By your brittle, bitter soul turns in on itself. And as you become the nothing You have been all along, I emerge. Beautiful. Perfect. Impossible To fold or bend or break back into that cage My opened, closed, and opened hands Reach. Pinpricks of feeling precede my grip. My fingers itch to write something new, And I cannot wait to read it.
February 10, 2025 at 12:22 AM
milliemeadows.space
this you? :P
Screenshot of Lucy with a Y saying "Ahaha yes! I say to my bum muscles as they struggle to squat"
February 6, 2025 at 6:37 PM
milliemeadows.space
Immortal by Millie Meadows my body one day will end my warmth will depart and hearts that hold me dear, will welcome and sing my song you one day will die the muscle that moves the blood that bears your life will stop silent and then you will be dead and I will live forever
February 5, 2025 at 2:34 AM
milliemeadows.space
Here's my script for calling my congresspeople if anyone is struggling with what to say
a screenshot of the following: Trans adults and especially children are under attack in an unprecedented manner in the US. Through Trump’s EOs, we are being denied updates to our identifications (in some cases losing access to passports), we are being denied access to gender-affirming care, which has nearly unanimous scientific consensus as life-saving treatment, and we are explicitly being codified as dishonorable liars and sexual predators in the language of the executive orders directed at us. These actions are unambiguously meant to systematically dehumanize us, and this alone should horrify you. But more specifically, my heart is breaking for the kids being denied care. Those kids were being given an opportunity to thrive. Many of them, for the very first time, had been given a chance to see a real future for themselves. They had been granted an opportunity to flourish rather than to wilt, and that is being stripped away from them. As a result, many of them will not survive. If you fail these kids, that will be your legacy. Democratic voters are rallying around one another. We are organizing. We will be fighting for ourselves whether you join us or not. When the dust settles, we will know the part you played. If you stood up for us. If you fought like hell. If you helped to LEAD us, we will forever be grateful. We will never forget. If you were not there by our side, your legacy will be cowardice, if we bother to remember you at all.
February 4, 2025 at 3:51 AM
milliemeadows.space
his name is Poptart
a photo of a beautiful orange cat trying to avoid eye contact
February 1, 2025 at 3:42 PM
milliemeadows.space
a screenshot of the following poem: by Millie Meadows it is today and I am home my sweet sixteen month old daughter has struggled to carry a book larger than her up onto my lap where she now sits in reverent silence as we read about a Frog and a Toad in love tomorrow I will again be afraid I will eye again the pre-packed bags and worry I have forgotten something but now Frog has made some tea and now Toad has grown a garden and now is not tomorrow it is today and I am home
January 31, 2025 at 12:37 AM
milliemeadows.space
A screenshot of the following poem: sometimes I am afraid that someone kind will find me drawing ragged breath beneath the rubble and the last of me to spill out of me will be the dregs of a long kept well earned rage
January 28, 2025 at 9:36 AM
milliemeadows.space
I'm a little more proud of this one
A screenshot of the following poem: Vanity By Millie Meadows I know you think God made me in his image, from mirror to celestial canvas, I am crafted by practiced hands that paint and form flawed fabric replicas of his perfection God’s smile had stubble that day he sat down traced the fractal paths of blood to his penis caged within my ribs a woman's heart beat bewilderment muffled by skin he knit shut
January 27, 2025 at 5:49 PM
milliemeadows.space
Oh yeah, it's all comin' together
a screenshot of a Pokemon TCGP binder with 15 Slowpoke cards
December 14, 2024 at 2:02 AM
milliemeadows.space
Why isn't this YouTuber 2D?
December 12, 2024 at 7:44 PM