All your laws are doing
                are justifying the murders
         you already called justified
So if I try to punch first
       don't call it 'cisphobia'
               call it Survival

On failures I rejoice
      pockmarks on the skin that is my being
Beautiful reminders of my own mortality
     A slave to the Romans spoke:
         "You are not a god"
Failures to me speak the same
          I am not a god
I am above no one
         To failures I owe humility
To failures I owe will
To failures I owe life
                    Because without them
I might be everlasting

In my family mental illness isn’t a question of
“Will I or won’t I?”
It’s a question of
“When and how badly?’
Because in my family mental illness isn’t a question
It’s a promise
It’s a promise that you hope someone will break
And you realize that life after 20 isn’t a guarantee
Because it’s a question of
“Will I bury my parents or will my parents bury me?”
Because if the mental illness doesn’t **** you
It’ll be the cancer
Or the diabetes
Or maybe the heart disease
But in my family making it to 80 is something
Only two people have seen
And you learn to stop asking questions
And in my family
You learn to laugh while you can
And to smile in the rain
To drink while it’s legal
And to die at inconvenient times
Like before weddings
And graduations
And birthdays
And you learn to stop asking whose coming
And stop sending out invitations
And just hope someone is alive to see you
Dying

I am up at 3:00 in the morning writing too many essays
I saved them until the last minute because I don’t know how to write anymore
It’s been too long
Too long since I scratched words into the wall by my bed until my fingers bled
Now I spend my time laying in bed, trying to get up
                        But I just can’t do it any more
                 Why can’t I do what I love any more
I don’t know how to describe what makes my heart so heavy
I don’t remember when I last saw the world in beautiful colors
                           It isn’t beautiful anymore
                                        It’s gray
The only time I see the colors is when they rush towards me like unstoppable waves
And for a few months I am unstoppable
                                    I am a god
    Until
              I
                  fall
                     The world is shocking colors of gray
                     Punctuated by overwhelming oceans of colors
And I am drowning
                                                          and
  ­                                   It isn’t beautiful anymore

My nails are yellowing
And my skin is sagging
At 16 I already look like I’m dying
I’m only 16, why do I look like I’m dying
I’d tell you it’s not fair
But I’m the one who built my life to be like this
Like a supernova
A dead star that no one on earth can see for years
Sometimes centuries
I’ve built my life so I won’t be recognized until years later
But I’m not dying for the recognition.
Like Van Gogh
I’m dying because the no matter the meaning I create
I can’t feel it anymore
He would eat yellow paint to feel sunshine on the inside
And I’ll swallow fire to feel something warm
I’m tired
I’m tired of people pretending any of this is beautiful
What I’m feeling is the furthest thing from beautiful
I’m tired of it raining while the sun’s out
I’m tired of people asking me how am and not waiting around for the answer
So I’m telling you right now
I haven’t been good in awhile
Thanks for asking.

Rain falls like silence
            Crushingly gentle and then
So suffocating