I've been using my computer's HDMI chord to connect to a T.V. in order to game, but I've never written poetry on it.

The magnification of the words and the fluidity of the transfer from keyboard to screen is magnificent.

It's giving a kind of otherworldly, surreal feeling to the pieces I'm creating.

I've been very vulnerable lately. I am vulnerable, and I'm not sure how to exist within it.

Well, see, society (what is it? It lives and breathes but is often undetected- like a cyborg) tells us that vulnerability = femininity, in order for both to mutually invalidate the other- because in a patriarchal society that feeds on myth, there is no room for either of them, as they provoke questions. But once you're out of the spectrum,  things begin to change.

I'm beginning to view patriarchal systems of oppression as post-apocalyptic worlds - something which, through my interest in science fiction, is important and familiar to me. It makes this life seem equal parts more bearable and more gruesome, because, on one hand, nothing seems real, but on the other, everything appears to be hyper-realistic and predictive of some sort of massive disaster. Oftentimes I'm not sure which to side with.

I'm also keeping a journal of things that I do to make myself feel better & gendering them as society would just to see what I'm like inside. It's interesting to see that I'm a mixture of gendered behaviors, but that pain itself is not gendered.

My trans friend says that's contradictory. He believes that society exists purely without gender, intrinsically, and that since we create gender for ourselves as a means of oppression, I shouldn't be trying to figure out how I relate within that system, but rather attempting to break out of it.

But, hey- better the devil you know than the devil you don't, right?

I'm


Okay


(At pretending I'm still living)

I am slowly desensitizing

Myself to the word

"Babe"

We were born
Out of chaos
Wind and rain shaped us

I held you for the first time
After a fight with a woman, I
Needed you to know how impossible you were
To do without

We died out
In the chaos
The winds that chastised us
Whisked you away from me

Disclaimer:

You're sexting a poet

You weren't my muse.

I wrote love poems to you,
Not about you,

And there's a difference.

I cradled my words alone,
They did not need your touch
To thrive