bow tie and collars
nice pair of suspenders
buzzcut and braid
wanna get laid?
***-tuned world
labels all swirled
high level of confusion
doubt and frustration
all the stigma about
sexuality gender who you are

we tell you where you fit
labels aplenty
let me name many
****, ***, thot, *****
these and much much more
*****, *****, and traitor
see you all later
*******, druggie, and ****
nerd, geek, emo, goth
****, ******, loner
crackhead and stoner
athletic and pretty
simple or ****
labels aplenty
go on, take your pick

found out yesterday
exactly when I move away

the perfect opportunity
of immunity
to what people say
just get away

I could change me
create who I want to be
perfect chance
get new pants

different haircut
could work, but
just one thing
objection in the parental ring

I’m not allowed
to lift the shroud
over my identity
to reveal the real me

it’s not okay
to be gay
or bi,
don’t even try

you want to be a boy
be quiet don’t annoy
you’re not old enough
just confused it’s rough

you will learn to be
straight, just see
listen to what I say
hide it away

just a phase
I hate that phrase
don’t be a loon
it’ll be over soon

Pinocchio

I want to be a real boy

not a lying decoy

wooden girl doll

a little too tall

lack of hips

couple snips

to get the hair

that I can bear

as mason jay

things’d be okay

Today we went
dress shopping,
which should be
a sure mark of

                                    girlhood
to me, but I’m
not in any way
feminine in dress.
My mind constantly

                                   breaks
gender norms
and traditional
roles. I want
nothing more for

                                   my
body than for it
to change to
a boy’s, a man’s
body to match my

                                   spirit.

If there’s one
thing that I
crave more
than to be
happy, it’s

                                   death
I don’t want
to end things
by my own
hand, but it

                                   would
not be terrible
for it to happen,
whatever the
method may

                                    be
I feel like an
easy and
quick death
would be

                                    preferable to
pain and
endless hurt
and struggles.
All I have now
with this “gift” of

                                     living
is endless and
painful torment
that usually
only belongs in

                                     hell.

boy or girl
that’s what defines
tells you which
of the bathroom lines

ladies first
men are last
why is this
how we’re classed

does it matter
I think not
must be the mad hatter
for my crazy thoughts

can’t we all
just be the same
must we play
the gender game

colors bright
catch the light
metal cools
silver rules
silk square
beauty there
twirling
swirling
breezy air
without a care
singing swish
make a wish
music fun
hope we won
rhythm beat
in your feet
hear the drum
don’t be glum
hot hot sun
hair in a bun
perform to the sky
planes passing by

fall arrives
whole new lives
more people join
fees paid by coin
things begin
teach to spin
friendships new
new show too
trouble’s coming now
stop it how
drama starts
breaking hearts
for you it’s no longer fun
but you are not the only one
did I mention
much team tension
you will see
no unity
you’re too late
all this hate
he’s a snitch
she’s a *****
wanna quit
more than a bit
you survived? how?
well at least it’s over now

there’s shame I know
In what I do.
Splitting skin,
allowing precious

                                              bloo­dletting
I try to stop,
but nothing works,
nothing relieves pressure,
nothing positive

                                              help­s
the way that
opening veins,
splitting capillaries
does, how it allows

                                              me
to finally gain
real control,
the sharpness of
the silver lets me

                                              focus.

in a world
split into
groups of
two, what
and how and

                                 where
do I belong?
In the gender
binary, I feel
placeless. Not
quite sure if I

                                 will
ever belong
anywhere.
People say that
I am stuck
a woman, that

                                 I
will never be
a real man.
That when
I finally meet
my “well-deserved”

                                end
I will go to
the bad side
of the binary
of the afterlife.
They say I’ll end

                                 up
in Hell, just
for being me.

sunrise colors
spreading fast
painting the sky
sunrise

raindrops
smooth and round
falling softly
rain

orange hues
pink red
across the clouds
beautiful views

cold, wet
drops hitting
wet circles
on pavement

warm
light arriving
sun peeking
sunrise

rain cold
splashing
soft wet
soothing

light
and water
combining
intertwining

gold sun
shines on
silver drop
mirroring light


symbiosis
of nature’s beauty
two things
sunrise rain

Sitting there is your jacket
Soft and black- it
smells just like you

Soft and sweet
like sugar or spice
Can’t place what
Just smells nice

Makes me think
Blushing pink
of loving you
But you never knew

When you lent it to me
I couldn’t believe
Have this piece of you?
Too good to be true

When anger seethed
I just breathed
the scent of you
It calmed me too

I gave it back
Letting go reminded me
of what I lack:
Your love for me

Now I know
it can’t be so
I can’t have you
Now that is true

If most of the world were gay
Would it be okay
For me to be this way
Or would you still say
“No”

If most people were bi
Would that fly
Or would you cry
“Don’t even try”

If half the world was trans
Would you still place these bans
Or say you have different plans
for me and my lifespan

One of my
absolute least
favorite topics
of conversation
is that of the

                                future.
Mine has
already been
tarnished with
my failures,
already been

                               stained
by my terrible
shortcomings:
my lack of
focus, and my
problems

                                with
anxiety and
depression have
not helped
anything but
my level of

                                 incompetence

People who do
horrible things
go to prison, get
put in cells,

                                        I’m
just wondering
what I did to
get put in the
cage that is
my mind,

                                        trapped
in an endless
cycle, a washing
machine of pain
and hurt tumbling

                                        inside
my head. I
don’t believe
that I’ve done
anything wrong, but

                                        my
prison suggests
otherwise, and
so do the voices
residing inside my

                                        head

some kid just called me 'sir'
an accident, I'm sure
still it felt pretty good
made it a bigger deal than I should

what if someday
it could be meant a different way
what if one day I could pass
as a boy and not a lass

a distant dream that's for sure
but what if happiness I could procure
I know a way, I know how
my parents just won't allow

simply I have to wait
until the day I can be not straight
two years, I can wait that long
simply pretend that nothing's wrong

metallic ticks
on my wrist
making cadence
that synchronizes
to my beating heart.

The watch band
is binding, and
not just there
to keep it secure
but to cover secrets.

my punishment
for consistent failure
is writing lines
chalk isn't what
traces my skin,
but metal razor
bringing blood
out from within.

the "chalkboard"
is my body,
in its entirety.
silver sliver traces
lines and names
over tan soft,
etches scars and
little white li(n)es.

Anxiety has done
a lot of damage to

                                           my
psyche, and I
try to hold your

                                           hands
and your heart
in mine, but mine

                                           shake.
I can’t stop doubting,
whether I am enough, if
                   my
offerings of love will
be enough. I want your

                                           faith
to be safe in my hands,
but there’s a lot of fear
                    
                                    ­        in
my heart that I will
never truly be enough for

                                             you
but you insist that I’m
amazing and that you

                                             won’t
ever leave me alone
in my troubles, and
I want to believe you.

Walking down the long long hall
feeling really really small
Watching faces
from lonely places

Why just me
Why can’t I be
like all the rest
Why am I put to the test

Always separated
Not accepted
Why am I
just so affected

What about me
is just so wrong
Tell me please
Just wanna get along

Will I never find love
Tell me you,
you, up above,
Is it true?

the author wrote
about curtains of blue
now tell me what
it means to you

just ask your teacher
she’ll surely know
you can’t seem to reach her
just play the game, you know

analyze the poem
go ahead, just try
who is this author
you don’t know ‘im

the teacher will tell you
just what it means
type up the answer
our faces in screens

you can’t think for yourself
but she knows what the author’s thinking
and you feel your brain
quite quickly shrinking

if you try to analyze
this poem you’ll find
there’s nothing
to read between the lines

people say
I should be
grateful,
because I don't
have to move
all the time.

but to float
place to place,
too quick
to take root,
is better than
the strength
required to
rip out years
and years of
deep roots of
love and
dependency
that have
reached through
cold earth
to draw from
the waters of
love and
companionship

they attempted to
transplant me,
but my roots
are withered and
I can't find it
inside me to bloom.

I’m a puzzle piece
you don’t quite know
just where I go

Where do I fit?
that’s a hard question
did I mention

I’m the piece
that is all wrong
that never belonged

I’m from a different puzzle
and yet you try
to find where I

fit, you tell me
but I can’t
not meant to be

not even a hammer
can pound me in
throw me in the misfit bin

‘cause I don’t fit

all my life
I’d been seeking
solace and peace,
I finally found it in

                                             you
You were my first.
One day, we were
talking, and I finally
asked you out. That
was the first chance
I had where I

                                             could
see what love
could do to me.
We’d hold hands
and kiss, and
I believed that
I could finally

                                             have
peace. The peace
my brain had
insisted I could
never had. Anxiety

                                             told
me that peace was
not possible. But,
when you came, it
was possible. Until
you decided to let

                                             me
go. After leaving me,
you chose death.

they say that
you can fall in
love or lust.
I can love but

                                  I can’t
fall into lust.
I don’t want to
and I don’t feel
such things. I
do feel love, and
I will never

                                   forget
the first time
I fell in love.
It wasn’t a
him like I was
told it should
be. It was

                                  her
and it was
something
beautiful, just
like she was.
Her face remains
in my memory,
and I’ll never
forget what her

                                  touch
felt like, even
though I’ll never
feel it again.

call me maestro
because I’m a master
I’m not talking art
I’m talking high class

                                               self loathing
I’ve had so much
practice at it
I’m finely tuned
to how it works. It

                                              is
my strong suit.
It’s pretty much
the only thing I
know how to do. It’s

                                              my
kryptonite, but
also my strength.
You could call it
my only real

                                             specialty

made a promise I can’t keep
don’t wanna talk just wanna sleep
I don’t want to find someone
for problems that are well past begun

I know I’m not the only one
who feels like they’re coming undone
the world is hard to bear a lot
suicidal thoughts are all I got

leaving all these friends behind
will surely **** with my mind
it’ll help, that’s what she said
to get these thoughts out of your head

life will always be full of pain
but if you keep it in, there’s nothing to gain
just find someone to talk it out
and you will have much less doubt

At the top
of my long
list of problems
remains my

                                  anxiety
It does things
to my head, my
hands, and my
heart, and it

                                  makes
life hard to
battle through,
making days
mountains for

                                  me
to climb, when
for everyone else
they are only
stairs. It’s kinda

                                  sick,
the type of hold
it has on me.
But I have no way
to get away.

Of all the things
I thought that
I knew about
you, the one

                                   I don’t
understand still
is why you chose
to take an exit
from the world
that doesn’t

                                   know
your presence
anymore. For
a time, I was able
to have

                                   you,
to love you and
to kiss you. But
since you left,
I don’t get to
have you around

                                   anymore,
and I don’t know
for sure if I ever
really understood
your pain even
though I thought
that I could have.

in my struggles
for acceptance,
I seek someone
to love me for
who I am. Is it

                                     parents?
Friends? or
am I destined
to a life born
of struggle and
pain? Is it that

                                     or
will I someday
get a real
community all
for me and for
other people
like me?

                                      Are they
people that
even exist? I
know it won’t
be my parents.
They don’t give
love, they’re
more like

                                      jailors.
They confine
me to my body,
to my brain and
to my pains.

again you’ve done it
succumbed to the thoughts
you didn’t want to
you really fought

eventually you gave in
it was so tempting
like sin
you listened

like devil speak
they told you
make blood leak
prove you’re alive

you greeted the red
you’re alive
you exist, it said
you proved it

sometimes you can last
without the evidence
but then pain from the past
demands to be felt

the doubts creep
as time passes
blood seep
relapses

you did it again
you listened
gave in
to the voice like sin

I have no friends
no real ones at least
and I’m pretty lacking
when it comes to

                                                     family
I have one, of course,
just not the best
most supportive one
and isn’t that what family

                                                      mea­ns
is to be supportive?
They’re supposed to be
a safety net, but
I’m falling with

                                                     ­ nothing
there to catch me.
I’m surrounded
by hurt and evil
and I find nothing

                                                       good
anywhere.

today is just another day
but I’m feeling some sad kind of way
not sure quite why I try
when some days I want to die

sometimes there just is a rhyme or reason
against me my brain’s committing treason
but other days just don’t know why
I feel the burning need to cry

some days the bullies come to play
and it just ruins my whole day
cause my insecurities come out
and I dream of retaliating with a shout

later on I find the right retort
but in the moment, words fall short
some days they choose to attack
and all I do is turn my back

they break away my armor shiny
causing me to feel quite tiny
but it’s okay
because I’m moving away

falling snow
don’t you know
what this brings

my heart clings
to hopeful things
but they can’t last

dwelling on the past
happiness fading fast
sadness setting in

wonderings begin
is there a way to win
against this losing hope

the answer’s nope
try to cope
nothing will work

my mind is murk
darkness does lurk
in my mind

S.A.D. isn’t kind,
I did find
now I know

falling snow
don’t you know

go to bed, dad does say
there’s no other way
or else you’ll wake late
just go to bed early
it’ll solve your problems

too thick headed to realize
it’s something I internalize
the fact that there’s much more
keeping me in bed and not
getting me out the door

sometimes I see no point
in trying to try
fix things you say, why
nothing will change

I’ll still be an outcast
with no friends that will last
I do not belong
you know I’m not wrong

sometimes I just can’t
find the energy
can’t you see

it’s a lack of motivation
that keeps me in bed
the big mental struggle
inside of my head

sometimes I can’t find it in me
to drag myself up
to get out of bed
can’t you see

the world is too scary
and too hard to bear
too many challenges
in the world of out there
I’m too weak to live life
not living, existing
merely surviving, and
barely at that

please understand
the life dealt to my hand
it’s not really my choice
I don’t have a voice

constantly beaten
by voices designed
to get me to cry

the ruthlessness
never ends
it’s all a cruel game
I’m just a pawn
to the kings and queens
of the game

sure it’s lame
so immature
what’s to be gained

don’t ask me
I don’t know
what I’m talking about
I’m simply too young to know
remember

please understand
sometimes I can’t
sometimes it’s too hard
thanks for the rant

Anxiety and
depression,
which both
belong to me,
force me to
always be

                                  fighting
for a desire to
live. Both can
be fixed, or
improved, but
I don’t know how

                                  to
do that without
using meds or
therapy. Maybe
I’ll end up having to

                                  live
in a psych ward.
I’d accept that, I
have even once
or twice been

                                  tempted
to check myself
into one. I don’t
know how to do
that, or what

                                  to
expect when I
do, I just know
that I’m not
ready yet to

                                  die.

my brain
and all its
noise sounds
just like

                               thunderstorms
It’s dark
and cold
just like it
feels when a

                                cloud
covers the sun.
I try to turn on
the light, my
happiness, but

                                 my
mind is out
of batteries,
and can’t
power the light.
Dark is easy,
at least, that’s
what my

                                 thoughts
say to me.
Darkness
takes no
effort at all

five.
of the worst
days of my life

five days
out of 17
(almost) years

five days ago
my best friend
and the girl I loved
took her life

five days
without her
in my dismal life

five days
since she broke
the promise we made
we told each other
we would stick it out
we would never leave each other

five days
of tears
and fears
and trying to get
through my life

five days of
missing her
and needing her
and not having her
and failing to find
a way to bring her back

five days of
thinking of how
I could have done something
how I could have
somehow stopped
the end of my lover's life

five days.

I don’t pretend
to fully understand
the things inside your head.

                                                       I only
wish I could have
tried a little bit
harder. You left,
and now all I

                                                       want
is to get you
back from the
abyss, but the
end is the end.
I can’t find a way

                                                       to
cope with the
sudden emptiness
in my heart, which
was already
struggling hard to

                                                       hold
itself together.
When you were
alive, that was
easier, but now
you’re gone and
I simply miss

                                                       you

I find
I feel like a part of me
really does belong here,
is rooted to this place,
but a bigger part
wants to go back

                                                              home
It’s strange to think
how there’s millions of
schools and cities and
situations I could’ve landed
             
                                      ­                        in
How somewhere, out there
could be       
                                                     ­         a lover.
someone who wants me,
someone to understand

How somewhere out
                                                            ­   there
could be a best friend
someone who cares
for me the most

How somewhere out there
could be someone like me
who knows all that
                                                            ­    I know
and has seen all I’ve seen

crazy to think about
all the missed
                                                           ­   opportunities
that could’ve been the best
or the worst
changes I’ll never see

you do not know
with what fervor I love you
you do not know
how very true

you say that now
but the questions how
makes me blue
‘cause it ain’t true

you always lie
it makes me cry
you say these things
yet no truth rings

why do you make them up every day
don’t they pain you much to say
why do you tell lies to me
lies do not set you free

they twist you up inside with pain
tie you down to the tracks of a train
they cut you up and give you scars
feels like getting hit by cars

don’t lie to me

my struggles
exist not only
at home or
in my head,
but also in

                                       school
With anxiety
and depression,
focus is lost,
and class

                                      finds
me confused
and far behind
I spend most
of my short time
contemplating all
the problems with

                                       me
With all these
numerous struggles,
I’m too behind,
and I feel completely

                                       lost

Sometimes I feel
like good things
are hardest to find.
I think that’s truest for

                                                love
Wh­o knows why
love is so hard to
find, at least, for
me. The thing

                                                 is
other people seem
to find it easily.
I question what
I must do to find

                                                  a
lo­ver. Will I ever
find someone to
love this fractured
body and mind?
That’s why I’ve

                                                 hidden
myself, my true
identity, inside folds
of consciousness
and fear, inside the

                                                 thing
called anxiety,
that keeps me
from truly pursuing
that ever evasive
Love.

Your retreating back
reminds me what I lack
Your departure an attack
that makes my heart crack

Why’d you have to go
That’s what I want to know
You got me feeling real low
Putting on a show

Did I do it wrong
Was it me all along
My heart’s singing the song
Beating like king kong

I’m just not enough
For you it was too tough
To deal with me was just rough
You left in a huff

Now I am alone
The seed of doubt is sown
The final bell sounds its tone
My sad heart you own

I told myself
that I’d never
do this. Least
of all to

                                         you
but I did it.
It may be
stupid and
selfish as they
say, but they

                                        couldn’t
understand quite
how it feels to
be me. This
tangled mess that
can’t quite seem to

                                        hold
itself together.
I ended that
tangled mess, and
I’m sorry. I truly
hope you’ll forgive

                                         me
for what I’ve
chosen to do, to
you and others
I love. I’m sorry
that you won’t
be able to bring me

                                          back.

It was 6th grade
my social studies class
my best friend
Sam, really my

                                                    only
friend in there.
I didn’t really talk to
or hardly understand
anything about other

                                                    girls
I wasn’t into makeup
I wasn’t obsessed with
boys, clothes, or hair.
I was just there,
    
                                                     for
only as long as
completely necessary.
One day, I looked at
Sam, and felt a
    
                                                     love
Not just a friendly one.
I wanted to kiss her.
It scared me to want
something like that

I was fifteen
when I first
figured out
that I had
             
                                                 anxiety
That was at a time
when I was doing
a lot of self discovery
          
                                                   like
realizing I loved
girls too, not
just boys. This
revelation sent my heart
          
                                                   pounding
that was a symptom
along with shaky hands,
sudden tears, and
irrational fears. As well
as noise in my head, like
          
                                                    drums.
That’s when it came
to me, that my
stupid cluttered brain
was infected with
anxiety.

colors are amazing
I’d have to say
the best one
for me is likely

                                        red
It’s a beautiful
thing. Pull sharp
silver across my
skin, and red

                                       flows
It flows not loud,
like a river,
but more like
a stream,

                                       quiet
and slow, but
powerful and strong
bubbling
intoxicating

                                        and
perfect. Silver
brings pain, but
it’s a beautiful thing,
its touch not
soft,
but harsh,
cutting, deep,
to the core
of my being.

There are endless ways
to sexually identify,
as well as gender-wise
I am figuring out

                                                how
I know that
whichever I pick,
I’ll have to go,
but exactly where

                                                 to
I don’t know
why must I
struggle to find
my way to

                                                 define
All I know
is that whatever
I really am,
I’ll need to learn
to love

                                                 myself

these days
darkness is
the only thing
in my head
sometimes

                                        I’ll
try to be a
positive force,
but it doesn’t
really work well.
If there was
a good way, I’d

                                         gladly
take a quick
exit. If I got
to come back.
I’ve always
said that I’d

                                          welcome
a chance to
fake death,
because I’ve
always wondered

                                          the
things people
would say.
Dead is dead,
unfortunately,
and there’s no
way out of that

                                           abyss.