she said: "i'm pretty when i cry"
oh , how i relate to her so deep
for when i tear up, i feel weak
and yet i feel so warm and in
my skin, so comfortable and
all the more scarier through
my convulsing body
at ease

in the mirror

my body morphs into the male fantasy

bones to muscle, muscle to brawn
skin sturdy, many a mind merit

perfect teeth, the perfect male face
one to please the crowd, to forget
the harmful dysphoria plague

oh, to be the reflection in the mirror

i finally feel welcome
and yet, it's not
the welcome i
truly want

it's like spike hugs
or poisonous kisses
the midas touch
withering sunlight

i feel almost too much
at ease now, as if
they have never thought
of me as anything other
than weak

it feels all to awkward
listening in to the chimes
of others as i sit silently
wondering why i even bother
socializing when there is no point
of me including myself within
their laughs and jokes

how long will i have to live,
knowing that i am forever
incapable to attaining the
same feats as the other boys
who stand before me?

how long will i have to cope
with the fact that i will never
cure myself of the boney skin
that have distinguished me
from the fit and the brawn?

how long will i feel my envy,
like violent waves crashing
onto the still shore, brewing
inside of me at the meer glimpse
of his glorious "belonging?"

how long will i stay sorrowful
how long will i stoop down to
my lowest level
and how long will i never try
to change, as if
this sadness is eternal?

how long will you be blinded by glimpses of heaven
before you realize the tainted blood of your words?

ever-so distant, light chimes in the dark
   it whispers to me from all of this distance
      messages of a sadness evermore in null light;

there is no true spark in the darkness of night

it ruptures within me like a sweet abyss;
to you an undesired whole

i am a beacon of hollow skin
of which you have neglected
with your back turned; a
grand shadow cast