Venus
Mars
and all the stars try to define my worth
I am not in alignment with a line
or a planet
no symbol accurately sticks to me
so I create my own
like I created my name
but I do not answer to it
My heart burns and drips
with ink and tar
and I tell myself that I am stuck
with their freedom
to submit or conform
to their standards or else
face the consequences
I am more than just stardust and recycled water
but I know that my blood is not my own
and the tears that I cry once belonged to someone else
I am made up of pieces that aren’t all the same
but they fit
I am a recycled coagulation of dreams and flesh
held together by the limits and bounds of the universe
bursting at the seams with thoughts and possibilities
inaccuracies and hypocrisy
and so still I wonder
what I am

(1) I wonder if I’ll die at 32
16 seems so much like a midlife crisis
I don’t wonder too much about
other things
If I’ll ever have a husband
If I’ll ever have kids
the politics of the pronouns
for my future spouse became
too complicated, at least for me

(2)    I’m tired even though I slept last night
I’ve been sleeping a lot lately
I don’t have much else to do
As morbid as it sounds it just feels like I’m stuck
waiting until it’s my turn to die
    
(3) I should be taking notes in class
         talking to my friends
  I should make eye-contact when I talk
and stop scratching my hands
I have to admit,
I have a certain affinity for scars
                           permanent regret
I shouldn’t have selective hearing
                                I haven’t listened to an entire conversation in
too long
        scanning instead for terms of my interest
         slurs
         are a particularly ear-pricking noise
lesbian, gay, transgender,
                   suicide

(4) I never thought my name
             would be such a hard question
    one that made me pause
“Do they know?”
they must
they don’t
neither do I
I want to sputter out to my brother
exactly what I am
but I don’t know what that is
I want to stop breaking down in my room over forms
M
or
F
morf I read
morph my mind corrects me, wishing I could do what I read

(5) My finger taps a desk and I watch the line in my hand
up
down
up
down
and I try to convince myself that I am real
                ten minutes
that’s the time left in this class period
              two fives
I say to myself, trying to shorten the time
           I used to be better at this

(6) I look at the rings on my fingers
             Do they belong?
would I have to take them off if everyone knew?

(7) My grandparents were twenty years apart
            I don’t shy away from age gaps
I try to justify it in my head
              that everyone is made for each other
that out there someone else longs for me, too
But my mind corrects me
on all the inconsistency in the world
                       there could very well be no one for me

(8) I don’t know what I feel
                   but part of it is alone
and another part is angry
                                 and angsty
                                 and sad
but they’re not puzzle pieces that fit together
          
(9)            I try to tell myself
       “I am myself”
but some days I don’t think even that is true
               I used to be better at this

(10) the veins in my arms carry blood through my body
                  so I remind myself
“today you are alive”
                              and I bide my time
                              and I wait

My dad has started speaking the tongue of the mentally ill
he is living the life of a man I don’t recognize
I am afraid of my own father
I am afraid he will **** me and my mother when my brother leaves
I miss the man who used to live in his body
but I know he is dead
because my father smells like death
he can’t take care of himself
I am so worried
for all of us
for him
I love my father
now and for what he used to be
but I don’t like him anymore
not for what he’s turned my family into
not for the disease I think he gave me
I don’t think my parents love each other any more
but I am afraid of our our safety if my mom tries to leave
I just want my family to be happy again
but I don’t think we can
not like this.
I miss the way we used to be
and watching my parents be an example for what love should be
I miss wanting my friends to come to my house
I miss feeling safe
I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish with this
I don’t think anyone will really read it
but I don’t have any other way of getting this out
I just want it to be okay again
but I know it won’t ever be
at least not the same okay it used to be
but most of all I am afraid
that I will turn into the man my father became

Your heartbeat sounds like music
           have I ever told you? Everyone has a different one
Your lungs are an orchestra
   and I wish I could give you more than whispers
but all I have are the secrets I told you
                    I wish you had someone to hold you
            but I've never been good with the
                  physical aspect of it all
I wish I wasn't colorblind so that
                   I could write you about all the colors I think surround you
           and maybe if I wasn't so nearsighted
                    I could tell you about the future in the distance
I'm just about as short as my short-comings
but I think we need that balance
                                      of the sun and the moon
but I don't know
                   how people like us
                                            live like this

Food trucks make me nervous
Trying new things makes me nervous
looking people in the eyes makes me nervous
eating in front of people makes me nervous
noises at night make me nervous
the dark
the silence
being alone
being in crowded spaces
open landscapes
tight constraints
freedom
dogs barking
cats hissing
one on one conversations
large group situations
getting help
the thought of staying like this
dying
staying alive
Me
I make myself nervous
but I can't help it

I open the news
and expect to see a shooting
the fact is I am more shocked when we go a day without one
maybe I am desensitized to the violence surrounding me
It seems normal
to be suspicious every time a boy reaches
into his backpack in my classroom
I have worked out a game plan in case he does
what I’ve always expected him to do
I know all the exits
If he does it at lunch
I know where I’ll hide
There is a seizing fear inside me
when the band plays their drums
unexpectedly
when a car backfires on the street outside
I get dizzy with terror
slamming doors
have this same effect
I am ready to shelter in place
at any provocation
I have chosen
the five people I would save
over and over again in my head
sometimes not even including myself
and yet
my father says guns
are not an issue in this country
maybe if he saw the battleground of this new war
or if he knew
it was where he sent his child
every day to learn
he would feel differently
I look forward to summer
not because of the break from learning
but because I no longer have to worry
“Will today be the day
  My school finally makes the headlines?”

I've forgotten how to feel
and think
     and be
but I still think I'm doing better
than last week