Somebody once told me they didn't know what slam poetry was
I stared at them waiting for them to laugh
I truly thought they were joking
They weren't
My mind internally interrogated her
But what do you do when you're feeling something so intensely you hold your breath and your whole body freezes
What do you do when you can't talk to anyone about what you're going through because they don't believe you
What do you do...
But then I realized
The only reason I know slam poetry is those nights I sat with a blade by myself in the dark of my room late into the night wondering whether it was more of a sin to **** myself or to be gay
The times I was having two to three panick attacks a night and had no one to hold me
I realized that she didn't have mental health issues
I realized she wasn't queer
I realized she didn't have any minority status besides being a girl and she didn't even feel strongly about that
While I'm still not a fan of those nights in the dark by myself with only a phone in front of me
I'm thankful for the voices and words who conveyed such emotion to let me know that I'm not alone
To let me know that someone feels as passionately as I do
To give me words to feel my feelings
So I'm glad that girl didn't know what slam poetry was because it meant she hadn't suffered but I hope one day when she finally hits a bump in the road that she finds friends in powerful voices just as I did

I'm uncomfortable
I'm uncomfortable in this feminine peice of **** others call a body
I look in the mirror and all I see is deadname
My body isn't me
My body is deadname
I figured this out yesterday
So I finalized my decision to get top surgery
Only to find out that my insurance matches my peice of **** body
Top surgery isn't covered
Apparently it's cosmetic
*******
You don't have to live in a body that's wrong
It's not my fault I was put in a body with ***** and curves and bumps in all the wrong places
I don't have 5000 dollars because I already had to pay for intensive outpatient therapy that insurance wouldn't cover
What's the point of having insurance if it only costs and doesn't pay

Honestly sometimes I miss it
The friends
The food
The care
But then I remember how nice it was to walk outside
How weird it was to walk into a store by myself
How odd it was to have access to knifes
Everyone says they care
And for the most part they do
But you're the only one that has to deal with the darkness all the time
I miss the constant care
People making sure I was safe
Now I have to make sure I'm safe
And as much as I want to be alive
I want to be dead
But it's okay because struggling means I'm living and I can't loose anything by living
Dying will always be there

if you can hear me whisper, why cant you hear me yell

is the tone of my voice disrespectful

its not trying to be

its just a voice running for its life

its scared

my apologies for its rudeness while it pants for breath

i cut today and didn’t tell a soul

didn’t cry for help

not because no one cares

i know they do

alot of people care and they almost care too much

the reason ive gone quiet is because i dont care

im tired and feel like i don’t have an effect on anything

like my life is running its course without any input from me

my stomach didn’t like the food i tried to put into it

so it took me out of dance

i’m memorizing terms for a major i already ****** up my chances of getting into

i cant sleep when i want to

and cant stay awake when i want to

i want to make a difference yet i don’t

i go silent

cant help those who need me

im trapped in a stupid tiny arrogant little box and cutting was my way of trying to get out

it didn’t work, i didn’t cut far enough

but i can now see the marks on the box

marks that i made

at least i see i have some influence

even if its just the ability to make my stupid tiny arrogant box shabbier.

I see your face

I feel your breath

I fell your touch

I turn and Im alone



I see your face

I close my eyes

I feel your breath

I hold my own

I feel your touch

I squirm and shrink

I turn and Im alone



Your face

Your breath

Your touch

that was then



this is now

caring face

my breath

no ones touch

this is now



that was then

the world is sad

the deaths are constant

the heartbreaks are like twigs breaking beneath tiny childrens feet

the catastrophic events are like birds flying overhead, swooping down occasionally

the violence, like sparks from the fire that burns in all of us

that fire burns within all of us

until it doesnt

it can suddenly flicker

and it can grow colder and colder

till is coal and cold

i wonder if the birds beaks like the taste of tiny childrens feet

if the sparks fuel the joyful jog of children till the beaks swoop down and eat them whole

i wonder if the forests fires scare the birds into the air

swarms flying flying flying

air full of beating wings

children crying

people screaming

bodies falling

bodies lying

birds swooping

birds eating

bodies dissapearing

smaller bodies wondering

small cries fill the air

crackles of fire join them

hear the sound

smell the smell

I hear it makes some ill

But Im so used to it by now ive stopped plugging my nose

the smell of charred flesh is near me

surrounds me

is me