i shower
this is not an unusual occurrence
i like to wash off the ***** feeling
that having nightmares
constantly
night after night brings upon
my body and soul

today i
shower not to cleanse myself
of a person
but to force the feeling of texas dirt
deep into my marred skin
i harshly push the sound
of lightning storms into my eardrums

i let
the stinging nettles
really my own fault for not
wearing boots out in the texas woods
wrap themselves around my sweaty ankles
dragging me deep into the ground
closer to him

though are
you still above ground
my dear uncle
you would think that after all
the funerals i have been to
i would know how
these things work huh

i don’t
want to imagine you cold and alone
in a lifeless and
sterile morgue
so instead i will imagine you at the lake
when you and lana built a treasure chest out of sand

i wonder
if you locked away her heart that day
so that when you had to leave
she would only feel a floating brokenness
like the distant ache of a broken bone
always there
but just in the background

i know
that that is not what my father feels
i remember talking on the phone to you
and answering the phone with hi pops
but then your laugh gave you away
your laughs are different
but they both come from deep in your bellies

if i
could take away my fathers pain
i would and i would
transfer it on to myself
so he could only feel that broken bone ache
because my dear father he went from a whole
to half of a soul

going to church didn’t stop the
constant chattering of my teeth
and my psych nurse says it’s just
a side effect
but i’m certain that it is all the
words that i have never said
the ones that i am too afraid to say
they are tearing my mouth apart
and it feels like my tongue is going to
be bitten in two
maybe my teeth will jump out of my
mouth and do a little dance
a ****** little dance
i have done those before
so many ****** little dances
over and over again

my mother said that it would
be disrespectful of my to keep
the rosary from my great grama’s
jewelry box
even though it was just a little old
pink colored and plastic thing
because i don’t believe in god
but ******
i just wanted to be closer to her
when wearing her earrings aren’t
enough because her sweet old voice
whispering in my ear
is drowned out by the screaming
screaming scream constantly screaming
voices and i just want to be close to her
i want to lay next to her
feel her warmth next to me
but she has been gone for years

my friend i know that you
are sad so very sad
but it does not last forever
and yeah i can’t lie and say that
i have never considered taking my
own life
i have nightmares about my suicide
and those times i actually succeed
but that is not the easy way out
think of how much that would
mess up your family and your friends
my dear friend take your fists away
from the side of your head
put your safety on
even making a finger gun isn’t
allowed in my house
i even feel guilty for having the toy
little two plastic cowboy guns that i keep
in a box under my desk
like they will protect me from what is inside
of my head

please put the blades down and
yes it does matter where you got
them from
whether they made it out of the store
in your pocket
the cardboard rubbing against your thigh
salvaged from pencil sharpeners
because you do not need a scalpel
the only surgery you are performing
is on your self
and your self hatred
and that is not what growing up is about

i remember wanting to grow up
when i was just a little boy
but there were no marching bands in the
city there were only pride parades
and i was too young to join in
but now i would give anything
to be a little kid again
this is what keeps me up at night
to the sound of my family breathing
all throughout the house
and i am the only one awake
but growing up does have it’s perks
you get stronger
you get to stay out later
you get to move out
you can date whoever you want
i mean **** yeah
you can be who you really are
because you are a grown lady or man
you are all grown up
and that is when your life truly begins

so put down the pills the
blades and turn the safety on with your
finger gun
take your fists away from your head
throw away the notes you wrote
because nobody should ever have to read them
no i am not going to make you promise not to
do these things when the world comes crashing down
but i do want you to know that they are just a crutch
they may help you walk now
but later on they will only drag you down
and growing up means moving forward
though sometimes it is two steps forward
and one step back
but you will get better
there is a light at the end of the tunnel
and no it is not hellfire
it is the bright light of a new day
where the sun is shining
and the smile on your face is genuine
because growing up also means growing out
out of your old habits and into the process of
loving your body
and who you have grown up to become
because hating yourself
but then loving and accepting yourself
is what growing up is all about
and you are going to make it
****** i believe in you
and i will be there for you
every step of the way

the tears they stick to my face
burning like salt in a fresh cut
though mine were never very deep
they were always fresh and there
and there was blood all over my clothes
mainly my long sleeves and sweatshirts
i remember the first time i bled through a shirt
at school and the butter knives that i hoarded
like i was gonna fight off my demons with little
ridged pieces of plastic
but ****** they kept me company
when mother dearest was either too drunk or ******
to realize my first cut
i mean come on lady it bled like a stuck pig
i cut really close to the vein that time
sometimes i wish i had had the guts to
go deep enough that first time
and i never would have had to deal with
four years of self-destruction
maybe if my mom had pressed me for the truth
but it’s more my fault than hers
though for once
that is not the reason why i am crying

i am not enough of a boy
but i’m too much of a boy to be a girl
and i’m too much of a girl to be a boy
but ****** who are you to label me
you haven’t asked me how this feels
you only cared right after i tried to **** myself
and only then i’m convinced you only asked because
my little sister was in the next room
and the doctor
his name rhymed with cranberry
and i hated him right away
he told my my being transgender
was just a diversion tactic
like buddy dood sir mister ******* listen to me
i am so ******* open about my mental illness
it’s all i talk about
i am literally a broken ******* record
i am loud and out and proud about everything that
is going on with me
both inside and outside
and if i wanted to create a “diversion”
i would have just slit my throat
because then i would have made my mother happy
by not being able to correct her when she continued
to call me her sweet little precious little
baby girl

you say i can’t be a boy
because of the clothes i wear
and the little tics i have
how i do jazz hands when i’m excited or happy
and this is a rare emotion
you should be proud that i am an emotional guy
instead of just a rock
a pillar of broken pieces
and yelling and grabbing and scars
because you and daddy dearest
you taught me that i should keep everything
inside of me
because you do not understand what is happening
to your little girl
and neither do i
but i do understand enough to know that
since i was seven
i was just a kid
i have known i was different
and it was okay for other people to be a lesbian
to be gay or bisexual or god forbid transgender
but i couldn’t do anything more exciting than wear
mismatched socks and combat boots to school
you didn’t bother to educate me on those things
and that’s why when i found out what transgender meant
through tumblr might i add
i finally knew that i wasn’t some broken toy
i’m not a freak
i am not a freak
but you make me feel like a freak

but i can’t be a girl either
because every time someone misgenders me
or calls me she or her or you introduce me
as your ******* daughter
it makes me want to rip out my insides
to show you that they have the word
boy painted on them
in blue and dripping paint
my insides are male
but i can’t be a boy
no i can’t
because i didn’t show any signs of it
growing up
i came out too late for mommy dearest to
believe or accept me
i can’t be a boy because i have a ******* ******
well you accept famous transgender people
and i am sorry that i don’t have the money to transition
i would if i could
but i’m pretty sure i’ll be dead before then anyway

i scared the dog with my sobbing and yelling
he’s still hiding in the bedroom upstairs
and i should be doing my summer school
but you have never been supportive of my schooling
so i really don’t see the ******* point
and sometimes the voices sound like you
they tell me what a disappointment i am
how i am so wrong
how you don’t love me
how you can’t love me
how i am going to hell
i am afraid to go to sleep at night
because all i do is dream about being dead
they tell me in your voice
that you would rather have me dead and a girl
than alive and a boy
and i am afraid that that is how you
really feel about me
like sorry i was ever born

i am not a girl
but you say i can’t be a boy
then i say i am not real
you are grieving a ghost
you say you want your little girl back
maybe you should have loved her more
both of you
this is for both of you
*******
you ruined the best thing either of you
has ever and will ever have
but this idea
this radical idea
that i may actually know better than either
of you what i was born to be
this is what keeps me going
late at night when i want to start
stock-piling my trazodone
maybe this time will be the charm
and then you can put her name on
my headstone and make me wear
the prettiest dress that i never would
ever wear while alive
but a corpse can’t talk
so what does it matter
i can be your little girl again
even if she is just a body

but **** that
i am going to keep on living
and yes
lopping off my ******* will solve
a lot of my problems
i am going to start t *******
even if you disown me
i have created my own little family
we are the lost boys and girls
the demon left in the presence
of your non acceptance
and i will be who i was always meant to be
a boy
my name is priestly
i am a boy
and even if you don’t accept or believe me
and that really ******* hurts
but i am good at hiding things
i believe and accept myself enough
for the both of us
and i have friends that
believe and accept me too
i am going to keep on living
because as her i was just surviving
but now finally after so many
long and hard and trying years
i am glad to be alive
i am living
as who i was meant to be
and i literally cannot believe that you
had the guts
to use the ******* gender binary on me
you ******* *** hag
and stereotype me into your little box
of blue for boys
and pink for girls

well maybe i like purple better

my mother
she makes my teeth chatter
she gives me chills
and not the good kind
all down my spine
a roiling in the pit of my stomach
right in the middle of my being
i can feel her there
sinking teeth and claws into my tender flesh
she so easily rips me aside
tears me asunder
i just want her to be proud of me
but i’ve forgotten how to be loveable
i don’t know how to make her proud of me
it is a losing battle
when she doesn’t even love or accept me
i don’t know what to do
she stomps on my fragile psyche
she makes me want to die
i just need
selfishly want
my mother to love me
why can’t
why won’t
she love me

thoughts of sixth grade
brings back
memories of self harm
with that first cut
i thought i was going to die
it bled so ******* much

now i look at
my scarred arm and shoulder
think of how far i have come
and how far i still have to go
but i am getting there
slowly but surely

thoughts of freshman year
brings back
memories of hoarding butter knives in my pockets
a good friend scratching himself until he bled
holed up in the bathroom stall
they were gonna pry them from my cold dead fingers

now i look at
him and how far he has come
the scars on his arms are fading
he looks happy
she makes him happy
and i am happy for him

thoughts of eighth grade
brings back the taste of bile
in the back of my throat
after having not eating all day
and how when he met me the first thing he told me
was that i needed to lose weight

now i look at
that roll around my middle
the aftermath of a cocktail of pills
they help
but is it really worth it
somedays i hate my body
but i am getting better

thoughts of my death
when i took away mama’s little girl
still haunt my mind
i hear the girl’s voice whispering against my spine
running atrophied fingers up and down my back
i wish she would go away and leave me be

now i look at
that boy in the mirror
staring back at me
with the crooked smile and the shaggy hair
and the wide open heart worn upon his sleeve
he is as fragile as me

thoughts of years gone
by and years yet to come
these are the things that keep me up at night
but we have all come so far
never to look back
only look forward
because the future is so bright
and we made it
******
we made it

i pour your name
into my paper cuts
not self inflicted
but i still pick the scabs
because it’s a blood flow
that i can control

and my ****** writing
i have known this for a while
doesn’t make this any better
but maybe the tissues i send you
smeared with blood and tears and snot
will change your mind about it and me

i am a selfish
person down to my very core
i cover it up with empathy
and the occasional backhanded compliment
never to you always to myself
but ****** i want everybody to stay

when i say i
love you i really mean it
my love runs deeper than the selfish
need to never be alone
because love is all you need
besides the other necessities

abby abby
eyes of gold
what does your
reflection hold

abby abby
actually eyes of green and blue
like the ocean after a storm
your eyes hold depths that
we cannot fathom

abby abby
perfect smile
light up a room
make others smile too

abby abby
beautiful flower
strong like a tree
roots sunk deep into the heart
of the earth

abby abby
my rock to lean against
when the going gets rough
i don’t let many people cry on my shoulder
but you are certainly invited to
when and if you need to

abby abby
keep me up at night
but in the best possible way
the dreams where you are in them
leave me feeling rested

abby abby
gonna do great things
just have to stick around
to see what the future holds
a future as bright as your eyes

abby abby
platonic love of my life
i love you
i love you
i love you

abby abby
my dearest friend

i know what it’s like
trust me on this one
to be betrayed by your own mind
a handful of pills
morning and then after breakfast
and then after dinner
the dreaded 500 calories needed to
make the magic work
like how am i gonna get skinny
if i eat like this

i’ve been betrayed by
my own hand
when the right took the razor
store bought a dollar a dozen
or filched away in my pocket
but that was only one time
to the left arm
and i cried that first time
but only because of how much it bled
and boy did it bleed

i betrayed myself once
for four years
with every cut and scrape
and lapse and relapse
it never ends
it never ends
until it does
and you don’t know what to do
with yourself
but it does not make you weak

and then i gave
myself up to the wolves
with a handful of pills
choked down with a bubbly water
because i  couldn’t take them with water
to save my life
and i went to sleep that night
fully prepared
not to wake up in the morning
like that old man in the nursery rhyme

i became a master
of faking a smile
but sometimes i over share
and accidentally give people
a glimpse of the shattered pieces
beneath my calm facade
and they either look at me with pity
or back away slowly
i don’t wanna be pitied
but some of them stay

and i understand what
you are going through
because i have been there
in that same hell
since i was twelve
since that first cut
since that first overdose
since that first therapist
since that first hospital visit
but we just need to keep going

we’re alright we’re alright
not because we really are
but because people need us to be
and i am right there beside you
i will hold your hand through the
constant struggle against our own minds
because you will not lose this battle
i understand
i get it
i am here for you

the kids can’t be
alright until people listen to us
take us seriously ******
because this is not a game
nobody willingly picks up the board
they try to throw down the pieces
but they are stuck to our hands
and they won’t come off
this is something you can’t shake off
but we’re alright

munching on blueberry poptarts
watching buzzfeed videos
putting off writing
about you and
your book
which
i made it through ten pages
before i started to cry
and i felt your pain
all around me
like a suffocating blanket
and i felt like i did when
i overdosed
last year
well
kind of like that
my teeth were chattering
they still are
my heart was beating
really **** fast
and i was sweating and shaking
the birds under my skin were trying to
fly south
for warmer climates
i cried for you
for debra
for rayni
for all the people that are gone
way too soon
without a goodbye
and the footprints that your family
have left on my heart
are a mile deep in
every direction
i have cracks pointing in all the
cardinal directions
but none of them can find her
and bring her home
and i am truly sorry
and yes i know that you should never
start a sentence with and
but that is the word that my brain
my addled mind
so often gets stuck on
and and and
i am sorry
ty my aunt’s doggy
he came and kept me company
swinging back and forth
out in the hammock
cursing the bright morning
sun that assaulted me eyes
drying my tears on my cheeks
like little salty crystals
ty would come over every few minutes
in the hour or so that it took me to
finish your book
and he would nudge up against me for pets
i got dirt from his coat on some of the pages
now there are parts of both of us
intermingled with your intense pain
reading your book made me want to
put on pants
and get my life in order
but the hammock and the breeze
so cool and cold after so many days of heat
kept me rooted
lounging
smothered in a pain that is not my own
your book made me want to pray
go the whole nine yards and get down
on my knees
but all i do
when i pray
is yell at the sky
and swear loudly for all the injustices
in this ****** world
there are bruises and scratches
self inflicted in my sleep
littered about my arms
but i don’t count this as self harm
because there was no cruel intent
behind it
and after reading your book
i know that you know what it feels like
to take it out on yourself
and that scares me
because i’ve always thought of you
as a pillar of strength
but i guess that growing up
is watching your heroes turn human
but i know what it feels like
to take out the pain and hurt and blame
on your self
it’s what i did for four **** years
but it is not your fault
it is not your fault
and i know that i’m just a dumb kid
but i know
in my heart of hearts
that it is not your fault
it is not your fault

abby abby
eyes of gold
what does your
reflection hold

abby abby
actually eyes of green and blue
like the ocean after a storm
your eyes hold depths that
we cannot fathom

abby abby
perfect smile
light up a room
make others smile too

abby abby
beautiful flower
strong like a tree
roots sunk deep into the heart
of the earth

abby abby
my rock to lean against
when the going gets rough
i don’t let many people cry on my shoulder
but you are certainly invited to
when and if you need to

abby abby
keep me up at night
but in the best possible way
the dreams where you are in them
leave me feeling rested

abby abby
gonna do great things
just have to stick around
to see what the future holds
a future as bright as your eyes

abby abby
platonic love of my life
i love you
i love you
i love you

abby abby
my dearest friend

my mistress
she is the wilderness
the feel of the backpack weighing me down
sinking my feet into the dirt
dragging me back with every
step i take

my mistress
she is the open sky
the constellations set over my head
and the stars burning out
and being reborn
constantly in a dance not meant for our eyes

my mistress
she is the heart on the
face of the mountain
seen by the playing children
swinging on their swings
pretending to fly

my mistress
she is the grape soda
the liquid courage
the teenager drinks
to help stave off the pain
when writing of sad things

my mistress
is the pain
the hole in my heart
that she left
when she went away
way too soon

my mistress
is the feeling of isolation
going beyond shutting yourself away in a room
that need to be closer to her
but the wilderness cannot hold you
it does not have a heart beat

but sometimes
the trees have her face
and you feel so much closer to her
think of how much she should have grown
how she should have graduated with them
******

my mistress
is the mountains and the peaks
begging me to come step over them
but they are mere ideas
shaped by the earth
and they only make my back hurt

my mistress
is being alone
where there are no hands to hold me back
but still i do not jump
because there are no hands to catch me
no arms to hold me close

my mistress
is the darkness outside my window
the rain on the asphalt
the smell of freshly cut grass
they do not bring her back
but they make life a little less painful

i had a dream that i cut my eyelid in half
and then when i put a gauze piece on it
and taped it up
people kept on pulling it off and poking at
my bleeding eye
and this is what it feels like to be born
and loved
and hated
and told goodbye for the first and last times
just quit poking at my eye
because it ******* hurts
and this is what it feels like to be
in a hospital for the first time
after you have taken forty
of your favorite pills and hoped to never
wake up again
i wasn't even born in a hospital
but man
i don't wanna go back
but what if i need to
does this make me weak
my eye hurts

the last thing i thought
before i fell into that
sleep of the ******
that only 40 pills and over
a thousand mg can provide

i realized that
even before i had started writing
about you
that i wouldn’t be able to write
about you

and that scared me even
more than the thought that i would
never be held again
because to me the written word
is more powerful than any touch

and i never got a chance
to thank you
because i really am thankful
for your not letting me through the pearly gates
even though i smashed my knuckles raw

i smashed my hands until
bone stuck out through my tattered skin
******
and still you did not heed my calls
my pleas to let me in

and when i woke up
later that night
and then again and again
at first i was angry
but now i am thankful

and i am never going to
be able to thank you
and that makes me angry all over again
but mostly sad
an endless cycle

i am the top that is
endlessly spinning around the ghost
of your name on my tongue
i long to be in your presence again
please come back

but really
thank you for not opening the door
but when it really is my time
i hope that you will open up the door wide
and welcome me home with a smile

my father broke my heart
but my cousin took it with him
when he left for college
leaving us all behind
in this podunk town

i scraped the stubby remains
of my big toenails against the soft
downy bottom of my shoes
and bit my nails down to the quick
so i wouldn’t cry when they didn’t say your name

i looked for your name
in the R
the D
and the S
but you weren’t there

my eyes kept on straying
back to where your name
wasn’t written
not even once
and the voices called your name in anguish

my scars showed up for
the occasion
and i wanted to make them deeper and more there
but that wouldn’t have made you proud
i’m glad you never saw how broken i really am

i want to go back
to fourth grade before i knew that suicide
is and was a permanent thing
that words hurt more than the blades
and not being able to say goodbye hurts even worse

as we were paraded out
of the theater
after all of the graduates
i said goodbye to three people
i didn’t look for you

i lick the tears
smudged on the lenses of my glasses
littered among the fingerprints
they taste like the salt that i pour
into my wounds on a daily basis

i don’t bother to
clean my glasses until i literally
can’t see out of them because of how
***** they are because it’s easier to face the world
when i can’t really see it

even when i can
see what is coming at me once again
i find it terrifying instead of comforting
it’s like being able to see the fist coming at you
but not being able to dodge it in time

as this metaphorical fist
connects with my face
i realize i haven’t had the chance to take
off my glasses before i was hit
and wonder vaguely if glass will make my eyesight worse

in the car
sat next to my mother
sweating along to the country songs on the radio
my toenails scrape against the bottoms of my shoes
as i scuff the them against the worn carpeting
the car smells like very berry hibiscus
and black coffee that reminds me
of a place before they were gone

at the cemetery
it feels wrong to be alive
and i make sure not to step
directly onto the headstones
because the horror movies always warn
me of hands coming up through the dirt

but i can’t
help but to think of how nice
it would be to be held by my great grama
one last time
even if i got dirt in my eyes
it would be nice to see her again

i’m sorry that
i didn’t go near her coffin
i remember his funeral too
though i don’t know how many years ago
it happened to be
i cried the hardest
and i remember at her funeral
how my mom and sister were talking about how
proud they were that neither of them cried
like i did
and i felt small and weak and childish
but also
painfully human

i find that
it is easier to think of the cemetery
as more of a library for the dead
because most of them are as old
as the dewey decimal system
and i’m just pawing through the card catalogs
looking for a hand to hold

your parents are
under the c category
c for classen
c for caring
c for compassion
c for clarity
c for cherished memories
c for come back

i was an addict at twelve
but it wasn’t a needle that i shoved
up and under my fragile preteen skin
pushing the euphoria in with a single movement

it was a blade that i
pulled across my ****** flesh
splitting the threads that so skillfully
held me all together

it didn’t hurt the first time
boy oh boy did it bleed
through a *** of toilet paper and a washcloth
it was like a period that i could control

and that’s what got me hooked
the pain that i could control
when my life was going down the rabbit hole
i just wanted to feel in control again

i’ve been in therapy since before
i took the scissors to my wrist
had a suicide scare in sixth grade
though back then i didn’t know what suicide meant

i was just a messed up
kid sitting in the counselors office
abused converse scuffing the floor
i poured out my heart to her

it didn’t help the first time
the second went by in a blur
only three appointments
maybe less but he was nice and had kind eyes

i used a variety of instruments
playing the strings of my skin
back and forth with the blade
back and forth

scars layered upon more sloppy scars
my left arm and wrist and shoulder
though that came later when i thought i was being sneaky
were a battle field

it lasted for four ******* years
four long years that nearly killed me
i still wear layers because the paranoia never left
and i still don’t feel beautiful without that familiar stinging

my first binder came by air mail
from China or Japan
and i thought that it would fit
after having accidentally told my mother i was transgender
and needed something to hide my *******
the look on her face broke my heart
so i backpedaled and said it was for cosplay
my heart too broke that day
because i was afraid that she wouldn’t
love her son as much as she loved her daughter

and it went sour for a while
we yelled instead of talked
i over dosed and self harmed
instead of asking for help
and then i tried to **** myself
in a rather selfish manner
my little sister was right next door
and i didn’t care
because right then
i was packed and ready to go

but who ever resides up there
wouldn’t let me enter the pearly whites
or the burned and blackened coffin doors of hell
which ever would get the biggest laugh
because i assumed that my life was the **** of a joke
that i wouldn’t be told the punch line to
rob told me it was sara’s dad
the same person that kicked him out too
and i believe in that with all of my being
because it’s better than believing in nothing at all

back to my being transgender
which is all my poetry is about
that and cutting and over dosing and the promise of ***
still to be fulfilled
and how much i hate myself
i am a broken record
but i read somewhere to write what you know
and my sadness is all that i know
i accidentally became my depression
and lost myself along the way

i am transgender
which means i was given the gender that my reproductive organs expressed
i identified as a girl for the first sixteen years of my life
then tumblr and family told me what transgender means
and i found that it applied to me
at first i was scared
i didn’t tell my family first
though i did tell my uncle first when i came out as a lesbian
i told some friends first because facing the screen was easier
than facing my family

but it does get better
and you should stick around to see that it really does
because the sun always comes out tomorrow
whether you sleep with your curtains closed or not
the sun always comes out tomorrow
annie agrees with me
and we are going to lose more
and more brother and sisters
but we can stop this
just listen to us
love us
accept us
and for the love of god
don’t ask me what is in my pants

Honey Bear came home today.
I am still in awe that somebody who was so big in my life and in my eyes can be made so small.
The box that she came home in is on her bed with a piece of bacon, a card, and her paw print.
I can’t bring myself to write happy poetry about her.
It’s still too soon.
Dear god, it’s too soon.
I need my friend, my confidant, my sister, my family, back.
Bring her back.
You give her back.
You vulture.
I know that she was sick.
And in pain.
But it’s still so hard to let someone so dear to you go.
That **** dog.
We’ve all cried as much as we did at Great Grama’s funeral.
Every day I am greeted by her empty bed.
I still expect her to come limping into my room, nudging the door open and laying down.
I have dreams where I stand at the door and call her name over and over again.
I wait for hours for her to come back.
But she never heeds my call.
Though, she never was good at listening.
And I think that maybe, if I get mom to call her name, she will come.
And I think, maybe, if I help mom search for her, we will find her, happy and healthy again.
Because moms can find anything and everything.
But what happens when she can’t find the pieces of your heart that Honey Bear took with her?

watching the ****** suicides
it makes my wrists hurt
i see myself in cecelia’s eyes
the hurt and the pain
though i was always more of a pill popper
than a wrist slitter

watching the ****** suicides
my hands shake
mostly my right one
fingers trembling in tune to the beating
of my heart
bound to rip out of my chest

watching the ****** suicides
i feel the luke warm bathtub water
sloshing over my thighs
as i sat there
with the blade in my shaking hands
imaging the red water that remained clear

watching the ****** suicides
my head hurts
my chest tightens
i feel like crying
maybe dying
just resting for a little while

watching the ****** suicides
i thank god that i told someone
before it got any worse
the months spent cutting and overdosing
in silence
now i just regret them

watching the ****** suicides
i think of all my friends
that have hurt themselves or attempted
think of about how i am one of them
and a text message or a blog post
is a pretty ****** way to say goodbye

watching the ****** suicides
feeling like i am one of them
knowing what the signs look like
like the back of my hand
i am so glad
i have yet to become a statistic

They took me to church
My mom dropped us off
The smaller one looked beautiful
I looked like I always do
Grimy and broken
I can’t say that
I worshipped like a dog
But I did consider praying
Even though all my prayers
Are merely selfish whims
Like peace on earth
And good will towards all men
I’m probably going to
Hell for calling Jesus a ******
First thing
But humor is how I deal
And my sense of humor is terrible
She looked so beautiful
In that moment
Standing under the lights
Shining out through the big glass windows of the church
That I wanted to freeze that image and shrink it down and put it in my pocket
And keep it safe and sound forever
But time rolls on
People and things wither
Crumble and die
In that moment I
Swear that the fact that I am
An atheist in church meant more to
Me than it did to the people around me
But that didn’t matter
Because she is a shining star that
Fills up my dark skies
And her beauty fills me with light
And I feel content in this moment
Watching her shine

I don't think of dying as leaving
more like stepping out for a cigarette
and forgetting to step back in
because I'm still out here
just beyond your blurry eyes
look at me sideways and I shine like a star
but look at me head on and I whither
under your disapproving gaze
please stop looking right through me
I'm afraid of what you may see
when you look beneath the surface
because I'm all jagged edges and ripped pants
scars with the same story
over and over again
ver the course of four years
don't look at me head on
please stop it
I'm just stepping out for a smoke
even though I don't plan on dying of cancer
and this cancer stick will stay unlit
please don't worry about me
I'll be okay
just not today
but maybe in a few years
you're looking through me
and I'm afraid of what you'll see
when I lay my weapons down
collapse into your arms
and cry out all the tears that have been
building up over all these years
I'm afraid of what's inside my head
I don't make my parents proud anymore
I killed their little girl and gave them a stubborn boy
in her place
I hate the girl I used to be
I don't know how to love myself anymore
but maybe if I bare my scars to you
you could try to help me put myself back together again
I know it's too much to ask
so I'll just step outside
you won't see me anymore
unless you look at me sideways
then I will burn like the brightest star for you
I love you

I first knew I was transgender when I

was 12 and I looked down at my chest one day

and saw something other than a flat expanse

of skin staring back at me

and I wondered why

since I still really didn’t understand the difference

between boy and girl

why my ***** hadn’t come in yet



But that’s a lie

it wasn’t that sudden or dramatic

it happened earlier than that

but back then I didn’t even know

what transgender meant

all I knew that

when my friend and I were in the bath

and he pointed at his ***** and then asked

to see mine

I didn’t have anything to show

and I ran out of the bathroom

crying hot tears of jealousy



I didn’t know what transgender meant

until last year

and I was so happy because I had found a word

that described the tomboy haircut and the

scabby knees and the ripped jeans and the

worn out Chuck Taylor’s

besides it’s just a phase

you stupid silly girl



When I look down at my body

never naked

always fully clothed

because I look better in layers

and see the soft flesh sitting on my chest

the useless lumps that will never nourish a child

because I’m too afraid to bring a defenseless child into

this ****** up world

all I feel is hatred

and sadness

and a deep sense of longing to have nothing

but a flat chest

flatter than a binder can give me



Now I embrace this word

label myself because I have to

speak out and loudly correct people when they

use the wrong name and say she instead of he

because I am not a girl

I never have been

I was just born without the right genitalia

and I know that somebody would be able to

find my woman’s body beautiful

with the stretch marks

the scars

the fat and cellulite

but I do not find this cage beautiful

and all I want to do is break free

and maybe drink a fifth of *****



I do not look like a boy

but that is who I am inside

and one day I will pass as a boy

scarred cosmetic instead of statistic

a smile instead of a handful of pills

shirtless instead of new scars

flat chested without a binder

and maybe double digits



I will stand up straighter

no longer hunched over from the weight

of my shortcomings and insecurities

I will smile

and not just because I’m imagining my funeral

but not because I will be dead

but when the time comes

and I am laid to rest

two feet wide and six feet deep

I will not be misgendered

the wrong name will not be placed on my tombstone



And I still have bad days

when I want to relapse

and go back to the pills

but I just remind myself that I will

pass one day and I will no longer have

to tell my teachers

friends

counselors

therapists

strangers

my name and pronouns

they will look at me and assume boy

because I will be what my insides say

my light will finally shine through

and I am going to be around to see this

ugly butterfly break out of his cocoon

and greet the world with a smile

that will not be forced

RIP -A Poem For Leelah Alcorn
Do not tell me
that it gets better
when another one of my
people another one of
my sisters
and surely thousands of brothers
but this sister
who I didn’t even get the
chance to meet
this sister
whose blog I only knew about
thanks to her suicide note
this sister
whose parents can’t even respect
her pronouns after she is dead
they did not lose a son
they drove a daughter
their daughter
to end her life
and even after her body
is not yet cold in the ground
still call her son
your darling son died years ago
and now your daughter is dead too
and she isn’t coming back
this isn’t an accident
I know what suicide looks like
I have almost been a victim many times

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and she is being misgendered
in the news articles and media

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when she
Leelah Alcorn
that is her name
was pushed to suicide by an
uncaring un-understanding world

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and her parents still have the nerve
to beg for sympathy and call
her a boy
even after death

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when we are still killing ourselves
only to be written off as mere statistics
and gender-identity
sexuality in and of itself
still isn’t taught in schools

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and I cannot attend her funeral
all I can do is write ****** poetry
and hope that she forgives me for not
being able to speak around the lump
in my throat

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when countless people that were
born in the wrong body
that do not fit the norms
will be misgendered at their funerals

Do not tell me
that it gets better
because the harsh reality is
that thousands of us will
live life in fear
drowning in a hopelessness
and sadness that nobody else knows
because not all of us have accepting
families and friends
and our suicides will be written off
as mere accidents
but nobody steps in front of
a semi on accident

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister died knowing
thinking knowing thinking knowing
that her parents didn’t love her
they loved their son
they will mourn their son
when it is their daughter that died
and she will never know a true mothers and fathers love

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when the harsh truth is that
if I do not change my name legally
I too will be
misgendered at my funeral

Do not tell me
that it will get better
when my sister is dead
unless you want to feel the wrath
of my transgender rage
over the injustice that is written across the scars on our wrists and signed on the dotted lines of our suicide notes

Do not tell me
that it will get better
because my sister died not
knowing that