8 o’clock A.M.
I wake up
I stay in bed
“6 more hours.”
I sleep for 6 more hours
I wake up again

2 o’clock P.M.
Finally time to drag myself out of bed
I sit up
I fall back
Nauseated again
I lay down and stare at the wall
I’ve become accustomed to staring at that wall
I think of all the things I should be doing right now
Something productive
Not sleeping
I feel it again
Good ole’ gender dysphoria
I sob for two more hours
All while feeling nauseated

4 o’clock P.M.
I try not to throw up
It’s my worst nightmare
The weird thing is
That everyday I feel nauseated
But I never get sick
And I never feel better either
I try to sleep it off for a few more hours
This is the fourth day in a row that I’ve skipped breakfast and lunch
Not on purpose
I just forgot to feel hungry
It was covered by all the sick feelings

8 o’clock P.M.
I wake up
I eat dinner
I go to bed
I can’t sleep
I stay awake until 7 A.M.
I finally sleep for an hour
I wake up
Do it all over again

8 o’clock A.M

He felt a pain in his chest
as if he was stabbed
and stolen from
but it was only
the smile of a girl
who had stolen his heart
and broken it to a million pieces

I'm so in love with you
I'm head over heels.
I've fallen so deep
And I never want to leave.

I hope you know,
You are wonderful.
Watch me smile as I
Melt in your deep chocolate eyes.
Your fingers trace my lips softly,
Can you feel the smile cross my lips
As my cheek is pressed against yours?
Another mental picture taken
While in eachother’s arms.
I miss holding you so closely.

I'm as lonely as a station at night.

The december mist and the moon
peaking high over the iron fence
dulled the low volt into weird halo.

But like bats I reap the rewards of night.

The buzz of the crickets rose in crescendo
from the undergrowths around the track
sounding as unreal as the silent platform
abruptly cropping up on nowhere land
doubtful if ever a train would notice it.

Days are dull actings dancing to strings
yielding nothing to let you know you.
I'm in full vision before the lightless mirror
opening up alone but with the many faces
the dreary day ruthlessly hid from me.

The mist was engulfing the iron railings
and when a distant engine whistled
there was no track or platform
but only the lone flyer hung on the moon
like a bat glued to the scent of night.