The head losing itself
A rainforest
Lake in the heart

Hundred tombstones
Named Narcissus
They Echo

Icy, bluish lungs
Pallid violet nails
Lips still yet loving

Salty bamboos
Necrophilic whistles
Siren's footsteps

Illegal loggers
Burying selves alive
Love, love that is

Before 6 a.m.
I cannot fall asleep
It's like a spell
Keeping my eyes open wide

Seeing nothing
Mind thinking of houses flooded
Hands dull and worried
Hands sick and dry

Painted on my sides
And there are also legs
But not mine
Not anymore

\

Did you know?
Wide thighs are the cause of heart attacks
So they plant some skyscrapers on there
Yet put some medicines in between

\

*Legs all grown and boring
They only talk when they drink
Legs all hurt and scarred
They only walk in the brink

Before I left home I had just cut my hair
too short and my neck was all too ******.

I ran past towns with a body
that looked like the ghost of a willow tree,
clawed at it the way mothers claw at fathers
during the births of their daughters.

Pictures of Father holding me up
to a willow tree each time
I cried. Nobody else could hold me

up the way he could, his arms gold
with too many storms. Pictures
of a boy who has been covered
in too many storms. Too many pictures
of a boy pasted to my face. After I left

I had dreams of my face covered in scrapes
that were deep with small soldiers and miniature colonial women;
I didn’t know any of them, but they all knew me.
They kissed me the way tangled up Christmas lights kiss arms
in the winter. When they did their mouths felt like the teeth of wolves.

I have stopped being the girl in the white dress,
with the pain in my stomach, the marks across my arm.

But there are still bruises topping my face, from a boy
heavy and dripping with his mother’s old gowns.

My legs in these hot and dusty new towns
are sore and happy.

we said what we think.
And just because it's not  the same,
or just because someone couldn't understand
We got blamed at.
We went through the path full of hatred
of an entire world.
They said "You're free."
But their offenses appear like bullets
from nowhere.
Without letting us a break.
We can't dream when sleeping,
We can't live without hiding.
Even though it is an "old joke"
it still happens
it still hurts
And we swallow our words,
pretending we are unconscious
pretending we have no opinion
and we're losing our sanity.
WHO ARE WE?
Maybe we already forgot.
But we still know what we're not.

Those sleepless summer nights
Sweat pouring from every crack
In thinly layered sunburnt skins
It was all *******-on-the-floor
Blood-on-the-sheets
And *******
Living out highschool fantasies
Like the cool kids

Life before 22 was all a dream
Of midsummer swelter and
Salt water
In the mind of the dog
Chained up in the universe's yard
Tethered to the ether world
Racing rabbits through space
While I was turned into an ***
Staring at the mirror
And my expressionless face

This must be how cancer feels
Growing increasingly smaller
In a world where cabinets
And aspirations grow increasingly taller
She met the devil
For coffee on diagnosis day
But the deal they made didn't take
Her hair fell out
And her body atrophied anyway
She found herself
Floating far far away
Her blood coagulating like
A broken thermometer
Of mercury

Salvador Dali painted this fall
The house of salvatore
Minds gone to roost under warm eaves
Staring fireplaces
Hungry couches and singing windows
It's all ******* drooping like clocks
And derailing thoughts
The local biddies
Cluck their tongues
At the absurdity of infinity
And the girl in Ace Hardware
Buying shoepolish to hide her tan lines
Yawns, as her boyfriend feels her up

*Meanwhile I collapse
Like a house of cards with a flick of the wrist
Thinking about life's mathematical beauty

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

If I kiss a woman, I am a lesbian
If I kiss a man, I am straight
I have this illogical need to scream at the heavens from atop a cliff
To scream I’m here in this world; I exist!
To say I am just bisexual is wrong
To say that certain aspect of me is the most oppressed is wrong
I am a woman, I am bisexual, I have tourettes, I have depression
I could go on for hours saying I ams
Saying statements that describe me
I am oppressed and stereotyped by the society I live in
So why is being bisexual the one I defend the most?
I asked myself this daily
Until I found the answer
Every other fact about me is undeniable;
I have a ******
I have diagnoses
That is tangible evidence
I have no sheet of paper with a signature of some fancy M.D.
Nor do I have some body part that labels me as bisexual
There is no definite way to tell if I am bisexual
Which makes it easier for people to say You’re just confused or It’s just a phase
And no matter how often I say it’s not; they won’t believe me
They don’t believe me because I don’t have the evidence they want
I don’t have an M.D.’s signature
I don’t have that ‘bisexual bodypart’
All I have is my own knowledge
And I don’t give a **** if that’s not good enough for you
Because I do exist
And I am here to stay

My hands weren’t sweating when I said it.
                    I will never write a love song.
It never seemed like anyone could see
past the pink
                swirly
                       fogging their eyes.

   How pathetic.

But cheerios get soggy
when I look away this long
and I wrote my first melody
because of your swirly eyes.

   They’re so much darker,
                 like rotted leaves.

And second,
                third,
(voice cracking, echoing)
      my fingertips
are splitting over these strings.

Fourth-
palpating vibrations killing the me
I’d thought furthest through.
I swear,
I wont crack as hard this time, but-

I can’t tie my shoelaces
without tearing flower petals,
so I walk around stumbling,

falling
into pretty girls.