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 Oct 2015 antxthesis
Y Rada
It is difficult to be a man,
For I am not a typical one.
It is hard for me to go on,
There’s a secret that pulls me.

I loathe when my memories strike,
They hit emotionally with might.
I struggle so much to survive,
In a world so deaf towards my cries.

I look at a He and my heart convulses,
For I recall a He who gave me kisses.
I was young, forced and naïve,
I fought but He was much stronger.

Society might tell that I’m gay,
For I let a man violated me in a way.
But I’m not a ***** and I’m sure,
I play a role for which others envy.

When I was a teen I met her,
I admired her even if she’s older.
I was then shy and very timid,
With mental and emotional scars.

I thought of her as a dear friend,
Then she turned to be my worst fiend.
One instance she forced herself on me,
And used things that hurt me so.

A girl’s tactics differ from the stronger ***,
Tears she used first and blackmail next.
She was cunning, sly and very clever,
She stole my pride and my dignity.

My fears now mixed with anger,
My determinations got bolder.
I still cry and sometimes get lonely,
Like any other victim I want to fight.

I can not shout to the whole nations,
For societies will scorn at my declamation.
Both sexes forgot that I have feelings too,
I am also made of flesh, bones and spirit.

I am not proud of what I become,
Within me clouding reasons try to calm.
My desire is to win this battle to the end,
I am capable of vulnerability like any human.

But where does my right begin?
This universe has compassion for women.
The likes of me are expected to be steel made,
Yet I have feelings too for I am just a man.
Dedicated to all abused males by other men and to the men abused by females. A simple shout out to the world that I care…that I have heard your cries… and that you are still loved.
tangled in my bed, you’re holding the bits of my smile that i didn’t even know fell out.
there, in the the gravities of messy sheets and intimate eye contact,
we come upon the part of the story when it reaches a climatic point of dizzying anticipation,
the type of expectation
that whispers sweetly on my skin as if it had the plot of our collision written on it.
here is the precipice of something scary; my tentative hands outstretched—
a coincidental incident; your hands reaching back,
folding me into your body.
everything is the same: the sun still came up to light our faces and
this little town hasn’t changed.
but everything is different, oh god.
the day i sat down in a mostly empty hallway
was the day that i realized i am the worst of unintentional catalysts.
the blush of borrowed luck stains my knuckles and i clench my fists in hopes that it will stay
before i let a safe house like you shelter a storm like me.
i’m so afraid of breaking you.
i’m afraid of my own vulnerabilities.
i’m afraid of letting people into the places where there’s still some wholeness to me. i know—i’m a walking contradiction.
touch and go,
stay and leave,
everything seems to fold.
what is that saying.
“the best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry”?
  never had a plan when it came to things like us but please understand
there are certain fragilities i can’t fathom in me and that i’m afraid of my destruction as i am of my own creations.

      but for now, this is the first chapter in our book.
this is the first day I wake up.
this is where we start.
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