I know you
probably better than most
You bring me tears on Sundays
Self hatred in the mornings
You corrode my liver
And shame me with embarrassment
to a point that makes me wish I was dead
You are degrading
And hating
And sickening
But one of the truest friends
I have ever known

I once dated a man,
no—a boy
who took a bath with me.
While we soaked
he said,
“Vaginas are gross,”
and I never stood up again.

Being human
the ability to regenerate
body, spirit, mind

Every seven years, I've heard

There she goes
she was strong, she was different
She was She

Through the pain and ecstasy
itching to get out, fighting to be let in

We expand,
minds somehow allowing us to forget
the knife, the black coat
sounds of running through an inch of snow

We move past,
letting ourselves live

And some days freeze up,
where it is said
that time stops

And I think about the way
I've moved on

At 4a.m. when it goes quiet
it’s just the chimes and me again
and I feel how lonely they must feel
calling and singing
with no one awake to hear them

The only dreams I have consist of pain
skin, stomach, palms, face
I can't sleep

And I know the only person
who could make me feel okay
would only be capable of doing that
three years ago

Let me in
Up the stairs
The cold hall and through the always-opened door
I'll sit myself far and try to look pretty
Into your mouth and down your lungs
Let me know the air you breathe, like I used to
My mouth will move, too
Our sounds will mix and harmonize
In the exact way you don't want them to

For the past seven months I’ve been crawling around on my hands and knees, blindfolded, with cotton in my ears. My movements have had no real direction, I have gone where I felt pleased to go, where the ground that touched the bare skin of my knees and palms felt somehow softer or more interesting. And yes I was blind, and no I could not hear; it was all done by heart.
Some choices I made were complete mistakes, and these wrong choices of direction led me to sharp floors which happily left my body bleeding, without bandages to stop the draining, and it weakened me.
But some places I wound up were surprisingly wonderful. They brought me laughter, ***, adventure, trust, new companions.
I’m in one of those places now where the ground is soft and it is calm, which I am thankful for, but it is dull.
I go to sleep almost every night unconvinced, unhelped, wrapped in sheets of ice and misinterpretation. I want more emotion-- the sting of rejection or the dizzying effects of nervous stimulation when taking a chance on a half-stranger at a party. I don’t want the same dry kiss placed perfectly on my bottom lip day after day. I want the kiss of someone who is dying to touch me, to make me smile, to see something new.
I want to know I have the freedom to swing one way or the other, even if I might end up bleeding. No sight, no sound, no sureness, just me and whichever way I choose to crawl in that moment.

Such a serious bird you are

with the premeditated patterns of a hawk

decisions made using wide eyes and fixed pupils

But I think underneath, you’re a pelican

the kind I’ve seen on cereal commercials

You’ve just taken a roll in the dirt

and it’s covered your color

So soon I’m going to bite your straight-lined wings

and show you what it’s like

to free fall