One time
I drew an anglerfish
To impress a boy.

It was beautiful
Black and white
With soulless eyes
And a skeletal frame cloaked in
Tendrils

I showed him the anglerfish
He said it was creepy
I called it stupid fish
Because that's what it had in common
With love

Stupid.

At camp
There was a woods
And lots and lots of free time.
We would take walks
Lots and lots of walks

We found trails
They were made of gravel
I forgot my shoes.
Emily carried me
On her back
Down the trails.

We found an island
The island had many goats.
The island had a bridge
The bridge had a gate
Lindsay climbed over the top
Noah climbed on the bottom
Nearly wading in the river
I tried to climb the fence
I couldn't climb the fence
I fell off the fence
And ripped my new khaki shorts
All the way up to the waistband
Abe asked to see
I didn't know why.

We found a dock
Some of the boards were missing
So we ran up and down
Up and down
Up and down
Jumping over the gaps
Where the boards broke.

We found a water park
Closed for fifteen years
We tried to sneak in
In the dark
But the door was locked
They pried the boards back
And I crawled through
Alone in the dark
I found the door
And let them in.

We ran from the water park
When our imaginations
Heard ghosts
Abe ran into a fence
He got cut
Noah ran into a fence
Elijah ran into a fence
JJ ran into a fence
All the same fence
They didn't heed my warnings.

We found Noah
Running through the courtyard
With an arm full of bed sheets
And a bare chest
He climbed the tree
And left the bed sheets
Strung up in the branches
Tristan pretended to think
That it was funny
When he fished his blankets
Out of the trees.

We found friendship
In five days
In the middle of Amish country

At camp
There was a woods
And lots and lots of free time.
We would take walks
Lots and lots of walks

I am pansexual
There I said it

I am pansexual
I love all of the pans
Every single one of them
I don't care if they are
Shining stainless steel
Or rusty and burnt
I don't care if you use them
To cook
Sizzling bacon
Or extra firm tofu
I don't care if you put them
In the cabinet
Or leave it on the stove
I don't care if your pan
Is really
More like a ***
Or doesn't have a handle
I don't care if you
Put a lid on it
Or leave it on an slow open simmer
I don't care how big
Your pan is
Or if it's better suited for soup
I don't care if your pan is
Really just more decorative
And you decide not to use it.
I don't care how may times
You've cooked in your pan
Or if you've never cooked at all

I just want to say that
I love pans
And I am pansexual.

The last time that I
Was banished to the
Time Out Corner
It was because
I wouldn't read
I didn't want to read
You couldn't make me read.

Then I met a boy.
He had black messy hair
Bright green eyes
And a scar in the shape
Of a lightning bolt
On his forehead.
He was the boy who lived

Then I met a boy
He had ginger hair
Connect the dot freckles
And hand-me-down robes
He was a Weasley.

Then I met a girl
She had auburn hair
An eager intellect
And muggle parents
She was a mudblood

They hindered the dark lord
They slaughtered the basalisk
They rescued the prisoner
They witnessed the return
They battled the dark arts
They cried for the loss of their leader
They lost and they won.
And they moved on.

They are grown up now
I am out of the
Time Out Corner
And in the library
Constantly
Because I'm always reading
I always want to read
You can't make me stop reading

The boy
The boy
And the girl
Are grown up now.


And I am grown up too.

An open letter
To all the pieces of ****
Who use gay as an insult.
You really need to stop
Pretending that you are better
Than someone else
Because you prefer to
Put your **** in a different place.
You really need to stop
Pretending that being straight
Makes you more worthwhile.
You really need to stop
Pretending that "no ****"
Is an acceptable thing to say
Ever.
You really need to stop
Pretending that you're not afraid
That a man will look at you
The same way you look at women
You really need to stop.

Gay means happy
A ****** is a bundle of sticks
And you are homophobic.

oh full length mirror
when did it become a sin
to gaze through you
and admire what i see.

my lovely typewriter
smith-corona clipper
best christmas present
hope for the future
sleek black body
rounded black keys
belly full of mechanics
white paper in between
words flow from my brain
through my fingers
without comprehension
letters
words
sentences
paragraphs
pages
and then i throw it away
and start over
because no matter
what anyone says
it's always so much better
trapped inside my head.