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 Dec 2015 LjMark
I am Christian. I believe in the
Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit,
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind
I own more than three Bibles
I teach Sunday School every week and
I pray every night.
I am Christian,
And as such I
Hate queer....

Phobia. I can not stand intolerance
And I cry at hatred,
Blood running in the streets,
Fear running in veins,
Running away from the truth.
I am Christian, yet
There are bloodstains in my Bible
And the prayers on my lips
Are for forgiveness for who I am.
The entire story of ***** is
Crossed out, blacked out angrily
In the dead of night
In all 4 versions,
Leviticus is blurred,
Wrinkled with my tears,
Soaked with my pain.
I am Christian
And I am not homophobic.
I know my church won't recognize
Non cis-het marriages,
Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark
The higher-ups insist
Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs
That shove me and my friends, my  family, my lovers,
Into closets of heavenly wrath and
Fire and brimstone sermons,
Locked into personal hells of shame
And confusion.
I am Christian
And I am not straight.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He loves me because I try not to hate.
So to the homophobic Christians, I ask:
Who is your God?
Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image?
Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant
Not truly shared by you.
Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin,
You are the vipers of my world.
Do you think you avoid judgement
When trans teens are killed
By the bullets you spit with your words?
Who is your God,
That tells you to picket the funerals
Of those you hate?
Who is your God,
That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness?
I am Christian,
And I don't need your permission to
Love my God.
Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles,
Listen to my fervent prayers,
Watch my lips tremble when
I listen to my pastor.
I don't need your permission
To love who I want,
In fact I don't want it.
Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out,
Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold,
Watch my eyes linger on her chest.
I am Christian.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He hates you who refuse to love
While you carry His name, if
Not his blessing.
So I ask again
Who is your God?
Because mine loves all of me,
All 5'6" of queer pride.
Who is your God?
I want to runaway
Start all over
Forget about all the people I love
Abandon the story I thought I wanted to write
And start a whole new one
With new people
New places
And a new me

I want to believe that I could disappear
And this life that I led for the last 19 years
Would disappear too
And no one would notice
So I could leave with no regrets
And not hear so many voices ringing in my ears
 Nov 2015 LjMark
Charlotte Huston
False shades I hide behind,
To embrace the other side of my mind –
The woman inside who’s always possessing my eyes
Boiling my soul’s insides until it can no longer hide
Rapping, tapping, stabbing, dabbing –
All my emotions galore, to find the other they implore;
Female only, this and nothing more.

Oh, Lords above! Truly your forgiveness I may adore –
Along with your permission I implore, to have this emotion at my door
To build up and grow, to fuel the thirst for a gender’s allure,
To flow outwards in glorious lore, in a tempest’s downpour.
Vexing, nixing, trapping, sapping –
My life force away – Until I am female forevermore.

Forgiveness I ensure, for all taunts I endure –
From my own mind’s tapping, nodding, napping at my mind’s core
Free me from my suffering! – Break me from this chore!
Terrors shall rattle my brain, draining my veins galore, in fear of my fatal self-gore
Hanging, napping, seething, bleeding –
Convertest to female – Or my life shall be no more.
Gender-identity burdens my heart and soul.
She whispered "you have to stop this, you have to be the beautiful girl I know you are" I wonder if she can see me tremble or hear the sound of every piece of me built upon each other as to not completely break and yet her words roll off her tongue and straight to my shield destroying the barricade I had up to keep the world out. I can't help but wonder if shed ask me to not be myself if the roles were reversed. If I had been any manlier while growing up would they see the signs like a car crash you can't prevent? Or would they still ask me to put the clown costume on for everyone to see how feminine I can be? The shorter my hair will never deter the  jokes and comments slid into my ribcage to be born when I change like that butterfly just a little to late coming out of the cacoon. Eve was born out of the ribcage of Adam yet being the eve everyone sees I am even though I'm  Adam building people up and out of my ribcage to show their confidence like a tree sap that needs a little courage to grow
Bleeding palms blood like a river, down his arms breathing heavy broken glass inside his bones. Bad news has never felt this deadly. He will never be the daughter you want, he sobs into his pillow at night muffling the sincerity of wishing he could be what they wanted. Late nights watching transitioning videos after a year she could be taken as a man and that is all she wants. His girlfriend tells him she hopes with all her might he won't be the man he feels inside. Trent. Her tongue slithers over every letter with a distasteful feeling in her mouth. Her head shakes "no, you are Tory to me. You are her. I cannot love you if you are him" bullets fired ricochet his chest he holds as if having been stabbed multiple times with a rusted dull butter knife. Pour salt on every wound scrub with mothers perfume nightly like the prayer ritual he can't keep up with. The perfume is the closest he will ever be to being a she. He was born in the body with a girlish figure . his chest denies him the right to be called trent. 23. That's how long the statistics say I'll live to be . 23 nobody cares if your 23, maybe 21 or even by chance 22 but nobody gives a rats *** if you die at age 23. 23..... That would mean before I ever fully get to be him I will know death as a close companion. I am trent, my pronouns are confusing to you because you don't see the bigger picture. Their hands tied together like vines wrap around my mouth and whisper " keep him in" they yell selfish profanities that you are the evil one. I am trent, seventeen is such a young age to be thinking about how I will die. 23 that's how long I'm expected to live. He will never be the daughter they wanted she never existed and now she's stuck tying ace bandage around the ******* she can't seem make invisible. Ace bandage is not what this is suppose to be used for. His ribs crack and he smiles, the breath he can barely take is worth being the man he is. Whites of eyes no remaining life he will only live to be age 23 and death has already got the grasp on him. I am trent, blood spilling windpipe giving out drowning with the last words I am trent. Nobody cares if you die at age 23
No one said being true to who you are would be so dangerous
I love telling drunk people about my life
Right before they fall asleep
Because I can say every ***** detail
And they won't remember a thing
 Nov 2015 LjMark
There's an F on his forehead but it doesn't represent failure. It represents the Y chromosome his father didn't pass down but by some cruel twist of fate he so desperately need to be comfortable in his own **** skin. But this isn't about that. This is about that little girl you raised realizing that she was always meant to be a little boy but can't tell you because you'd kick him out regardless of how he'd plead for you to just understand so instead he hurts himself to let the feeling out. Dozens of little lines that relieve his pain for just a moment each but it is just enough to keep him going. And then he comes back to the constant fear and sometimes he can't take it so he buries himself in a reality where he can be who he is. The wrong pronouns that taste like acid on his tongue and sound like screams in his ears and just add salt to the wounds that he's given himself. He wants to tell you everything but you'd throw him to the dogs and watch as he was torn apart. So he filets his skin instead, and for sixteen years he's held it all in. Sixteen years of pain and suffering and not knowing and hurting. How many times does he need to bleed before I feel like he's had enough? How many times will he scream before someone comes to help? To save him? Because he might not be able to stand it much longer. I won't be able to.
 Oct 2015 LjMark
I know...
I am not one of the pages of your book
or the words in your poem
I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the potrait you are painting
or the inspiration behind your masterpieces
in my heart , it is your name I am engraving.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the reason for your smiles
or the tickles of your laughter
for you, I would walk a thousand miles.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not your shining star
or the light in your life
till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the one your heart beats for
or the one you desire
my hearts says as long as it brings you happiness,
it wants nothing more.

I know I am your never
**but you will forever be my always...
"Every feeling unreturned has its own rainbow."
Let your heart lead the way...
 Aug 2015 LjMark
Amy Snow
 Aug 2015 LjMark
Amy Snow
It gets better, it gets better I hear them say
As I curl up in a corner wishing for this to end.
Keep it together, everything will be alright
I say to myself as grief and sorrow hold me tight.
You've come so far, don't give up now
I hear the whispers in my head screaming so loud.
Help, help I scream in the darkness as I drown
Waiting for help to be found.
I feel the warm touch of the light
And I see it clear as the day like a blind person who has been granted sight.
My skin starts to tear apart a loud noise sounding from a far
They're no longer screams but the beating of my heart.
I stand up from the corner and Toward the mirror my walking began.
As soon as I see the reflexion i begin to cry
There's a beautiful woman at the other side.
This is me, this is who I am
And for all those like me I will forever stand.
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