I refuse to be called a cysgender guy
The QSA should really stop being so gay, they should hide
We should have a straight alliance
Yes! Have a straight alliance
have a safe place for all of the kids kicked out of their homes because *mom, dad I’m straight
Have a place where the memories of the children who were killed because they acted too straight
Because we really need to stop saying That’s so straight
Have a straight alliance for the same reasons we should have a white club
I mean seriously even the asians get their own group!
Have a club for all of the c-y-s-g-e-n-d-e-r people
But make sure you don’t include the c-i-s-g-e-n-d-e-r people
Because we really need to stop labeling normal dudes
You know the ones who have *****? Not some confused ****** who got too dyked up
Because we really need people to stop saying that cysgender people will eventually grow out of it

It's elementary, my dear
This bittersweet affection that I feel
From one boy to the next I grew
Ladder rungs of broken hearts

First grade
Blonde hair and disarming smile
Recess games and hallway passes
A note in a diary and minutes spent giggling
Never talking, always watching

Fourth grade
Glasses frame of brown hair and thin shoulders
Curious enigma to come and go
A bit more literate diary entrees
One year of crossed legs and shy smiles

Fifth grade
A growing tree of lean muscle and blue eyes
Short brown hair and a charming grin
Side by side on a rubber track
Gray skies and sweet goodbyes
A bright dance floor and a shattered heart
Miserable nights and heartbreak songs

Seventh grade
Long dark hair and chocolate eyes
This spring has brought a strange surprise
Wiry muscle and soft cheeks
Once admired, then adored
An ongoing thrum of sweet affection
Sidelong glances and gym class stares
New discoveries and quiet realization
Girl can love girl

Tenth grade
A firecracker packed with mysterious boys
And an enigmatic girl
A bomb in the summer sky
Spelling new names, new faces, new hearts
A whisper of 'I love you' at long last returned
Names carved on my ribs and pulling my lips
A tightened chest never felt so good

He writes boy on his leg
Etching the letters the world won't understand
Wishing the felt tip pen could
Break the gravestones on his chest
And fill the valley between his legs

He writes boy on his leg
It's a word kept secret in fear
He's a mustang learning his legs
And the world is a pack of vicious wolves
They don't know what to call him
Only he does

He writes boy on his leg
Takes a picture and sends it to the one he knows understands
The flash against his pale skin stark and bright
Like sleepy eyes against fresh snow

He writes boy on his skin
Because he can't write it anywhere else

I didn't understand
because I thought it didn't apply
to
me

The disapproval that comes
subtly but surely
from the woman
who raised you

And in so many ways
Because of the person
I have grown to
be

Because I didnt become a replica
Because I didnt fall a slave
to every
silly idea or claim that bled

From her fangs.
I'm not sorry
however
for setting my own morals

For finding a part of myself
That I could not
change
I am not sorry

For growing to be the Hercules
to your
Hades
I am not

Sorry

For being the one to find and point out
the wrong
the wrong
In ever claim of your


**"Right"

this is my body
all awkward limbs & jagged frame
a mountain of bones
arranged haphazardly around wooden joints
i didn't want to be a “real boy”
but i didn't want to be a real girl either
i wanted to be a beach ball
or a kite
now my throat is a chimney
my lungs are a fire
& i don’t care who’s between my legs
as long as they spread me
like bible pages
that’s to say,
i don’t believe in god
unless i’m getting nailed
or writing boys eulogies in my underwear
the way i draw maps on my skin
to where the wild things went
i think monster in the closet
is synonymous with my coming out of it
skeletons and all
clinging to me
like dream catchers
full of expectation
that got caught in their nets
that’s why i take
"proceed with caution"
signs so seriously
and i do,
i do at night when i am alone
far from home
& scared that my gay is showing
i do
when boys want more
than to just split me in two
& leave both halves of me
draped over the bed
i do
when it comes to loving him
so unconditionally
that my heart feels like
the only muscle in my body
with any fight left
this is my body
it’s bent & broken
with anxieties
but it is mine.