‘You’re so wet for me baby’ they say
‘You’re not saying no’
Rinse repeat

It hurts I say
‘That’s normal ‘

It is what it is what it is what it is
My words stop

‘You’re so quiet’ they say

If I unzip my abused vocal chords I won’t be able to stop the noise
Keening screaming bursting like a dam

It’ll fill up my head
My ******* bone marrow
Where do I begin and where do you end flush against me

I am good at being quiet
I am good at being small
I am good at being needed
I am good at pleasing others
I am good at saying yes when I mean;
Stop
Get me out
You are choking me
I can’t breathe
There’s is blood on my teeth
On my hands

I held you after you assaulted me and you told me about what was plaguing your mind
So I comfort you
Rinse repeat
Tell you I’ve got you through gritted teeth

Is that so bad is that so bad I am needed so why is it so ******* bad

You fill my lungs acrid and burning
Inhale exhale
Inhale exhale
**** and ***** coat your lips like a gaudy lipgloss

Wash away the taste of you
Clean my teeth with dettol
Empty my veins clean the dirt out my veins
Trying to forget the way you coat my teeth

Your mouth is so good baby’ you say
It is bad honey and expired milk

It is not being touched since
It is not sleeping
It is wanting to be held but being terrified of the thought

A letter to the girl I love
The opening of my soul
She is the sensation of passing cars
Hard to grasp
Constantly moving
A flash before your eyes
She is the cooling rain that tears the sky in two
Rushing over me
Her very presence
But what a shame
That’s she doesn’t feel the same for me
Unrequited love
She is like honey and chamomile
Her very voice and laugh
Bringing me a sense of joy
I think I see it in her eye as well
Or do I ?

little girl wants a monster truck
little boy wants a fairy doll
forbidden
little girl wants to be a boy
little boy wants to be a girl
doors closed and eyes closed
wishing for a brighter tomorrow
closet doors creaking open
light shining in
closet doors jammed open

Always be on the lookout
In case someone sees you holding your girlfriends hand
Be wary of those who claim that god loves everyone but objectify you for your sexuality
Always maintain your composure when someone mentions the idea of your sexuality being a ‘kink’
And finally find your people
The ones who offer a rope down the dark well that is your mind
The ones who give you light
The ones who uplift

They tell you to not give in
And so far I haven’t
For that I am proud

If anger was a colour
what would it be?

stereotypical blush red
or would it be
the black slashes on a page

the its overs and the i'm sorry's

maybe its the grey of an oncoming storm
waiting for it to move on

If only it were that easy
to describe emotions
s  e  n  s  a  t  i  o  n  s
and feelings

but in reality
you can't

because we as human beings
are much more complex

we are the changing currents
and rolling waves

blending into one

I am spiralling down a dark well
mortar and stone grazing my knuckles and fingers
in their desperate plea to find a crack
a divet
anything to stop the spiral
but I continue to fall
black upon black
grey upon grey
deeper and deeper
the water is at my ankles
sinking
sinking
sinking now
into putrid sludge of what I do not want to remember
swept into the dark ocean cave
of my mind

as a child i believed in monsters
magic
and innocence
but i have learnt
over my years
that life isn't all sunshine and rainbows
we are canvases marked in colour
from our experiences
some darker than others
some lighter
but all of those brush strokes  
are a picture of beauty
our highs
and lows
acrylic on graphite
soft pastel hues
on angry slashes of colour
water colour wishes and charcoal sorrows

I study the curvature of your spine
and the lines of your body

glances that last no more than a
couple of seconds

glances that are unbeknownst to you
fighting the internal battle

I have two armies

ready for all out war
red versus blue

heart versus mind
their bullets leave

holes in my soul
healing only to

be re opened again
for you are a

warrior of your own kind
weathered down by the

corrosive waters that
we call life

you have two stones on
your shoulders

and a library of books
resting on your spine

and i want to carry them
for you

because darling you are a
beautiful rose

with thorns like two sided
blades

made to keep people out
and to keep you inside

the prison you call your
mind

unable to prune those thorns
i can only study

the ever growing shadows
under your eyes

and the dryness of
your lips

you built a plaster cast
over your most vulnerable parts

waiting for the person
who will fight the pain

of pruning your thorns
for darling

you are a shell of what
you once were

and all i can do is watch
you recede into yourself

I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.
I wonder about the stars, burning meteorites that are slowly sizzling out.
I hear the clock, a sound of wasted moments in time tick, tick, ticking.
I see the good in people no matter whom; human beings do things for a reason wether its love, fear or safety.
I want to feel comfortable in my skin and for my brain to be able to come up for air.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I pretend to stay calm while inside my mind the whirring windmill keeps turning.
I feel the need to be like a flower opening myself up to the suns positivity and blocking out the negatives.
I touch the little bird nestled in my chest urging it to fly to freedom.
I worry for events that may never happen riding the wave of panic until it dwindles.
I cry for moments where I didn’t take the leap, times of fear that limited me.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I understand that it won’t always be ok and that during these times the little bird may falter.
I say that it’s going to be alright and that this moment shall pass.
I dream of the day the little bird finds its wings, finally taking flight.
I try to inspire others, teaching them to find their inner birds.
I hope to someday inspire others, to make a world of birds free to fly.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

the bed feels like an ocean
your body writhes upon it

giant squid tentacles
winding up from the inky depths

locking around your ankle
rendering the limb useless
an anchor in your dreams

dreams of masked figures
with nets bottling your hopes
and dreams

for their own sick pleasures
put on shelves and made
into a roadside freak show

words like venom
and jeering laughter
nigh time dreamers chained in reality

differences scorned upon
physical or mental

cries of upheaval and revolution
from those that are followed by the
black dog

those that are like rag dolls
trapped in the shell that is
their body
unable to lift their heads

the smothering and stifling cloak
of panic worn by those who suffer anxiety

the grey storm cloud of acid rain
and icy bullets
hovering over the depressed

they are not broken
only flawed

in this world
today
no one is without flaws

insecurities and fear
keep our mouths shut
locked with heavy iron padlocks

weighing the wearer down

I want to slash at my skin with the same intensity that the beehive in my skeletal frame has when the worker bees attempt to seal all the broken parts of me sickly sweet

I want to scream so that It goes hoarse because if I’m not being heard what’s the point of having one anyway

I want to take the weight of their spines lift the broken onto my shoulders so that the shrapnel embedded feet they own no longer have to sink deeper
Embedded further

I want to feel love like the love my parents have in the subtle ways  that they check in on each other
In the small favours, they do for each other

More so

I want to hear her voice say the words I have always longed to hear the words that I know won’t be said the words that are difficult to comprehend

The ache in my stomach motivates me to keep going
The steadily decreasing number on the scale makes the hunger pains and sleepless nights, the bruises on my vertebrae

I slip up
I cry
The walls close in

The cycle starts again

I have done it again
I want to tear at my skin
I want to feel clean again
It coats my skin like dried nightmare induced sweat
yearning, reaching and shimmering
just out of my reach
It is a mirage
A trick on my mind
that sends all rational
out of the gaping, broken window
the shame-inducing sensation
fill my lungs with concrete
a frozen breath
unable to escape
the pain is a sharp distraction
acting as a reminder every time my sleeve brushes against it
I need help

Let us go into the field
where peonies bloom and the dappled sun hits our skin

Let us go into the field
where kisses are akin to blossoms in spring

Let us go into the field
where the apples of our relationship lay untouched and protected

Let us go into the field
where even on the slate grey rain kind of days we can lie together

Let us go into the field
where our story began and our complication began

Let us go into the field
where we can repair the torn seams in the fabric that was us

Let us go into the field...

can i turn back time
and start again
drown me in holy water
cleansing me from the inside out
let the ashes of my form
float like morbid confetti
over me
opening my mouth to catch
the part of me that
i once held dear
my blackened fingertips
reaching for the universe
hoping one day i can be
a part of that ageless space
drifting in a place i call
home
the neon hands of fate
just an inch away
but the gravity of my situation
pulls me deeper
in the sea of my consiousness

If someone were to ask me
what my ideal world would be
I wouldn't be able to answer.

There are no words to describe
how the rain fell that night
the bitter sting of hail on bare skin
summer attire.

That moment
that memory
is what my ideal world would be.

The overwhelming sensations
the sting of the harsh wind
the fireworks exploding behind my eyes as our lips touched.

he takes another drink from the brown bottle
his eyes inflamed and angry
broken yellowed teeth and cigarette butts
an angry man
stained  t-shirts
Lingering nicotine
a hopeless man
he's hurt again
the war broke him
gunshots still echo
Dust so thick you cannot see
the divorce broke him
A shell of a man
A wild man
but I can see him
in the cracks on his porcelain skin
The alcohol no longer seems to be running from his mouth
Convulsions have stopped
I can see his light
being born again
sobriety

She walked on coals to feel the warmth, the warmth that had been stolen from her soul. Flint against steel, sparks dying . Burnt fingertips and blistered skin.

Then she found the one to build up her fire, the one who had the power to produce flames through their hands. Igniting the spots their fingertips touched.

But then the fire was gone, stolen heat burning her from the inside out. Stifling heat overtaking her mind and soul.

Too much to bear, she extinguished her flame. Only ash, no more burns.

No more kindling.

if only your watercolour
could stain my hands

a residual mark
of the love that we could share

but all i'm left to do
is dream of something

that isn't there

My fingers ache to reach over the table
To caress your oh so wavy hair
Short and soft
Your embrace is a wooden blanket
On a fourteen degree day
Thawing the parts of my soul that have been
Frozen and parched
You
Are a blistering heat
Compatible like two pieces
Of a puzzle
But
I know you do not feel the same
That ache I have
For you alone
Cannot be returned
So
I only watch from
Afar
Hoping one day
If I wait that little bit longer
That you may notice
The girl that stands by you
In times of need  
You are worth all of this and more
Gold
Diamond
Silver
Nothing compares to you and your laugh or the way your hugs seem to be supercharged
Life giving even

I wish I were as gorgeous as her,
I'm her opposite

Rib cage like a python
Too pale

Frozen hands
Continuous tremors

I know I shouldn't eat
I'll feel guilty later

"You look great!", they say
I don't feel great

I feel empty
A hole inside my chest

The hunger pains progressing
I'm ok

Just a few more

no matter how hard i try

how many times i wash my hands

how many times i check the expiration date

how many times i knock on wood

                    five times five

repeat

                    five times five

repeat

                    five times five

repeat

                five times five
          
                             five times five...

I have gained five  kilograms

My brain is buzzing

I need it to go

I just want to disappear

Make myself small

Find me in the space between strength and frailty

Strong yet weak

it started in your bones
it ended in your heart
I miss your bright smile
I miss your cackling laugh
they told you it was time to say your last goodbyes
what do you do when your loved one dies?
you were a supernova in a world of stars
embracing everything that fell into your arms
the pears in the bathroom
the stuffed tigers on the shelf
its the story of my childhood
you taught me to love myself
an armchair and a gentle man
a woman full of joy
a godmother me
a  bakery near my home
the years grow in length, time passes
you're still gone
I haven't seen you in a while, I can't bring myself to see
the stone anchored in the ground where your head would be
do you still see us?
up in that heavenly place
do you still bless us, with your heavenly grace
I still message your phone
though I know you won't receive it
and
I can't bring myself to believe it
I've got the photos, the videos, and the proof
of a beautiful existence
but it's with a heavy heart that I say you're gone
it's not fair that you left so soon
so I close my eyes
and imagine you're in the room

the orchids have withered
the heat is here
and much like the orchid '
i have too much to bare

The puckered skin is healing
it will stain my skin
like the other two
reminders of the shame I felt
the pain inside
and the war that was going on in my head
The puckered skin is healing
raw skin showing
pink in colour
soft to the touch
The puckered skin reopens
spilling its content
emptying my mind
startling clarity
The puckered skin reminds me
of days where I felt the world was against me
of days where my heart and mind were too full
filling me with a fire I could not extinguish
The puckered skin will heal
The puckered skin will heal
The puckered skin will heal
and once again
my heart will spill
ovals of puckered sin
ovals of puckered skin

As I lay under sheets
My skin prickles
at the thought of your travelling hands
leaving a burn in all the points contact is made
at least that's would it feels like to me

what do the glances and shy touches do to you?
do you feel that same burn
that same sound of blood rushing through your ears when I'm around?

or do you feel nothing at all
in the heavy darkness when our breaths mingle
intertwined limbs and butterfly kisses against cheeks

the solidity of you grounds me in this world
I am reliant
on the brushing of hands when we cross each other's paths
the stolen glances across the room
more so,
the ever growing tension

I don't tell you these things
because I know that
the nature of our relationship is
strictly platonic

my skin burns at the thought of your fingertips
molten lava inside my veins
parched lips wanting you...

I am not the person I once was...

my skeleton has been molded to what society expects of me

my mind has mastered the art of secrets holding what I truly feel

my hands are worn down from gripping bed sheets in the middle of the night

afraid to
                 f
                 a
                  l
                  l

asleep

because the dark is not my friend

I am afraid of falling prey to those who dwell in the night

when in reality it is my mind

my a b s o l u t e  fear that feeds them

but no matter how hard I try

and

oh, I  t r y

I cannot overcome this

when I get stuck in my own thoughts
deeper and deeper into my own head
the compulsions become stronger
five times five times five
I repeat until it feels alright
until the iron vest on my chest loosens
until my hands bleed from overwashing
I'm finally clean
until I slip further
and further again
repeat

Your pink mouth screaming at me to get out, my ragged breaths as I ran up the stairs.

Why oh why did God make me this way if I was a mistake?

My aching heart drags my heavy feet onward, the rain soaks my already numb body.

Why was I born this way?

The lit up building like a beacon, a smiling face a listening ear.

They tell me i'm not broken or weird, they tell me that I am normal and that there are others like me.

They are a samaritan on a dirt road that seems as if it will lead to nowhere, picking me up from the ditch that is my soul.

It's on the first day I meet them, just like me they too feel like they're  in the wrong shell.

I tell them that I am a snake wanting to shed my skin but the angry and hurtful words glue my skin onto my too loud skeleton like a cocoon.

They offer words of support and a welcome environment, they are like the family that I and many others never had.

It is after my first month there that I get a job, a job that can help me on my journey. It is also here that they call me by my true name.

My mind and body are making a peace treaty, an alliance of my sanity. I learn to love ‘me’.

No longer a he and now a she.

      I am finally free to be me.

           Love and faith are the keys.

               For I am finally free

lost boy where do you go
when the sun is hiding
lost boy
you say your'e alone
but you aren't willing to let your fear go
lost boy
i hope you know that i will be here
and won't let go
lost boy
i see the black crow
latched onto your weakened soul
lost boy
that crow he tells you so
that if you go no one will know
oh
lost boy
i hate that crow

the watercolour bleeding
into acrylic vermillion paint

the brush strokes of our lives
blending to create

a beautiful piece of art
made by our own two hands