When the screaming ends
the flesh seared away by the blinding white light
many eyes opening wide in colors yet unseen
eyelids peeling back and shriveling
cursed to forever look and see everything
burning hot metal sloughing the charred remains of flesh and bone
teeth acidily dripping from the writhing form
and as the ashen wings sprout
and all noise ceases
you pick up a feather
hearing the chorus and choir
and wonder if this is the epitome
of beauty

For my dreams
and nightmares
I'm left standing
at an edge of something
incredibly important.

But it leaves me to wonder
whether I need a doctor
or a witch

A dream where my mother's blood was spilled
Only for I to be drawn forth
by horrifying angels
Asking only to take their hand
But be drawn back into the darkness
Into a comforting embrace
Telling me to only come back to this place
After I've chosen

But to no longer have counsel in this world
And having no knowledge of my options
or the consequences that may befall me
From a mistake
such as this
Is a cruel choice to have to make

Could this be
a Second chance?
Or maybe
an opportunity
to fall further from grace

Is it insanity
to both despise spirituality
and yet fall into dreams of vastness and Gods?

To have cried
and screamed
and thrown the crucifix from my hands
Only to find myself thrown awake
In the middle of the night
still feeling the thick
sticky
blood on my hands?

To have loved science
and knowledge
and fact
But have a Bible given to me from a loved one
that I keep in a drawer
like it's a shameful secret?

To having always felt uncomfortable at church,
but still feeling my skin tingle
like it's going to catch itself on fire?

To believe that God has abandoned us,
or that he never truly existed,
only to carve lines down my throat
with blunt nails
driven to madness
By a spiraling sky
and incomprehensible nightmares?

Is it a mockery
a sin, even
to have been raised by a saintly woman
and still end up
like this?

Is it cruel
to be raised by her
and have her torn from the world
before I would need her the most
and still have to live
knowing I didn't see her last moments
but instead
having her haunt my dreams
with her death?

It must be divine punishment
For past lives
and Future sins
for Fates' strings
and destiny's grip
or everything I've ever done wrong
and more so everything I've done right

When I dream
I can slip from this body down
into the seas
of the Abyss
and remember drowning
without water
and Seeing the only beings
to ever want me
in this place
Offering
Connection
and
Explanation

and having to turn them down
As my flesh and blood
has duties
to yet still live

Shaking shuddering vibrancy
A blink and I'm gone
Past the twisting fracturing light
Stretched and bent around gravity
The twisting halls that are pulled out into eternity
And instead found in Aether

Galaxies and stars searing my fingertips
Dark inky waters surrounding me
Skin sliding off, muscles turning to dust
Revealing my core
A bright
Spiraling
Supernova
Burning and revolving with rings of ice,
like Saturn
But much like how stars burst in their passion
And time itself will trickle the last grain of sand in its hourglass
A ticking timebomb in my soul
An explosion of firecrackers waiting for me,
at my end
The heat death of every universe living in my mind
and sprouting from my skin
Even Gods are forgotten
But as I reach like Icarus once did
setting myself aflame on white dwarves and red stars
And I
finally
feel
Alive

I'm better, I tell myself
I don't cut
I've never attempted suicide
I've learnt my symptoms
I've learned how to lessen them
I know what makes me spiral downwards
I can get out of bed in the morning
I know how to work around this mentality

But sometimes I get worried
That maybe I'm fooling myself
I can feel itches under my skin
Where the marks used to be
I thought I'd be happy to see the scars fade

But sometimes I look down and see them in the mind's eye
See the blood
Feel the sick exhilaration as I think to myself
'I finally feel something!'
But I shake my head
And the thoughts are gone
No blood
Faint scars
I'm not gone

I'm not a woman
I can see you stare
"You were born in that body
You were born to have long hair"
Was I though?
I don't think I was
If it were that way
Maybe I wouldn't want to die as much

"Say what you want to say
You're ******* me off"
I tried to
But you told me "no"
There is no room in your heaven
For me, who is trans
"You're going to hell"
You can shut your mouth
You didn't even believe in God
Until this month

Now you think you're some saint
And you've picked up a bible once
Skimmed through the pages
And sipped the wine symbolizing blood
Ate the bread symbolic of flesh
Well you've skipped the verses
Didn't read the psalms
Or genesis

I did
I've read enough of the book
To refute the ******* you've just said
I used to be a believer
And I still might be, I'm not sure
But it's people like you
Who make sure churches turn cold and dark
Who make this book I used to adore
Just blank parchment smeared with ink
Who took my faith and shredded it
In your kitchen sink

I say I'm a nonbeliever
Only because
If I told you that I believed in my own God up above
You'd use it as leverage
Tear wounds in my soul
Make me too weary
To ever go on
You'd ask how I can believe, being queer and trans
Living in the wrong body
Living as a man

But let me tell you this
You slimy ******
My faith is MINE
Not something you twist up to offer
I don't have to give you the time of day
And I usually don't
But your *** has got it backwards
I'm in control
Not you, not your stupid ideals
Just me, quietly, thinking to myself

I creep around my house
Unusually quiet as people yell
I don't want to get involved
I let my words go unsaid
But it's too late
I've been seen, again

They don't hit me
But the words sting worse
"Whose side are you on?!"
What else do I have to lose?
I walk by, silent as a phantom
All of the fighters clamoring in tandem
I don't care for sides
And that's when I spot him

My poor little brother
Caught up in their spat
But too emotionally invested
To walk off like that
He looks between the parents
On opposite sides of the table
Tries to soothe and calm
As our sisters scramble
He sits in the middle
Wincing, in tears
Another fight lost
Nobody wins here

"******" is a word that my family uses
An insult and a swear
"******" is said without a single care
And I let my hurt go unsaid
It's not like you'll ever listen
To a single world I've ever said

I didn't tell you this
but sometimes
we,
as humans,
we...
we sometimes get confused.
We might not know what we're feeling and
mistake it
for
something else.

We might believe something that
may not be true.
We might become
delusional
and
would rather believe a
lie
than face the
truth.
I... am one of those humans.

I thought what I felt was
love,
only because I didn't want to face the truth.
That was not love,
that was fear.

But.. I know now.
And isn't that
What really matters?

Under a vice of justice you soar

But what if

There's something more

Than just what

You're looking for

?

The golden flowers bloomed
Miniature suns casting
Light against this backdrop of
Green surrounding them.

They're all so loud and immersed and everything is flashing and swirling

I'm being pulled from side to side

I know I'll fall to my knees but they won't notice they will continue

Like the ****** of a storm

Chaotically and unyieldingly bending and twisting over itself around me

And I am caught in the middle silently suffering.

They wouldn't hear if I screamed.

I know because I've already tried.

It all depends

Whether it's a malicious sort of fake

Or one done to protect the self and others

Or to hide

Because you'll always sense ill intent

Before shields of protection

Are you curious?

Do you want to break my mind apart

Piece by piece

And scramble it

Reassemble it

Repiece it

And put it back together

Piece by piece

Into what you think

Is my mind

And effectively

Ruining it

Yet again?

Everything has a place and every place has a thing, even if the thing isn't in its place and even if the place doesn't hold its thing.

It was a dance, a game, that I didn't know.

Were we swirling and spinning and pressing close,

Making hushed praises and whispering promises?

Were we playing chess or cards or even checkers, in silent bemusement?

Perhaps we weren't singing or swaying or moving pieces upon boards, crying 'checkmate!' as soon as we were able

Maybe it was something completely different

Were there no musical tunes?

Pawns upon boards?

If that isn't what we're doing then...

How do we move forwards?

Will we be stuck here, butting heads, staring, longing for something more

Something indescribable

All our lives?

We spin and swirl,

Dance and twirl,

And yet

Though beautiful and enchanting it may be

We are just puppets

On strings

I can see a word

Or phrase

And conjure up hundreds of stories

Images

And yet

I can't find the words

To place these same images

Into other's heads

Empathetic

Able to fit any mold

I'm told that that's not a good thing

Too empathetic

Just seeing someone in pain will put me in pain

These poems are long

Really long

Because I pour out my heart

And can switch topics in the middle

Without realizing

It's like a diary

That I share

But diaries aren't meant to be shared

Diaries keep secrets

Not to be told

Or for anyone to know

But maybe that's wrong with me

I trust too much too easily

It hurts, sometimes

I write how I would speak it

It's caused odd poems and repeated words

Most definitely repeated words

But its it's okay

It's okay because it's my style

It's my words that

I get to express

Which makes it okay

Right?

I love talking

But I also hate it

So much communication

And contradiction

You could make someone's day

Their life

Or you could destroy

Tear down

Watch as they suffer

Mock their tears

Watch as they walk towards their death

As they take their own life

But

You could also build them up

Give them the motivation to go on

To continue

But some words

Some phrases we get attach to

Almost as if they scar

Or brand the skin of our bodies

And we see them every aching moment of our lives

Words could change a person

For better or for worse

Words from others or even words from yourself

I love-hate words

Speaking

Writing

You could hurt or help so many

And so many are squandering this act of expression

To make it so others cannot express what they're meant to

I'm not talking about any specific politics

Or anything of that nature

Just

Words.

They're over-underused

Under-overused

So much said but so little actually mean something.

Its said to pour out

And you can't stop

But also get stuck in your throat

And leave you mute and hurt

I suppose it depends

On the words you are

And the words you say

And that's all out of my hands

As someone who makes

Simple observations

And writes this down in this

Blessed

Accursed

Language of ours