Your fingers pull at shower-soft hair
Getting longer but not too long
Your eyes are dry but so is your tongue
Because you can’t find it in you to cry

Your chest is tight but it’s not the shirt you wear
It’s your ribs closing in on your lungs.
Your insides are crushed beneath the weight of their words
Pronouns buried like landmines beneath your skin
There’s a sickness inside you
Gnawing on your bones
Black tar sticky in your stomach
A violence pressing against your organs

You’ll feel better when you’ve changed your body
When your voice is deep and there’s hair on your jaw
You can take your shirt off at the beach
And flirt with girls at the coffee shop

Until then there’s no one who can understand
No one to get why you stand before the mirror
Running your hands over your flattened chest
Or practice walking like there’s something between your legs

No one asks why you’re not happy with cancer
Because no one is happy with cancer
But no one understands that your dysphoria
Is a sickness
And its terminal

Again, you welcome us with tragedy
With Cold, windy stormy winter blues
The unpredictability of lakes and pond ice,
Becomes every fisherman’s worst nightmare

A dead robin outside my bedroom window
Highlight the day. As the high wind
  Slammed against the lids of the city dumpsters
it was so loud it was deafening

Here I am the last cookie poet to enter eagerly into the new-year
With a different perspective, eagerly rehearsing my thoughts
  Before my poem trail off to believers or non-believers alike

You will not ******* away like the north wind
Every line you shall follow by scanning each undusted I’s
I am the poet to unknown regions stray
carrying words of wisdom,
but do bear in mind

*It's easy to cheer when victory's near

I may have held the gun
But I didn't pull the trigger

I may have tied the rope
But I didn't pull it tighter

I may have grasped the knife
But I didn't slice my flesh

I may have wanted to die
But it was you who did the killing

I doubt,
I woke up this morning with doubt
I doubt I would ever find happiness
In a spike smoothie
I am being driven more toward;
the sea madness

I doubt I will ever take that trip to California
Or print my name on the wall of Jericho
because of the Israelites;

I doubt I would ever buy that $3000 Gucci bag
Just to empty out my account
I doubt I will ever swim in the ocean, again
my courage always rises with
every attempt to intimidate me.

I doubt I will ever walk the lonely street late at night again
If a pervert **** his mother,
No doubt what he would do to me
For him I am a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
I doubt I would ever be able to write a sonnet, because
The feeling of frustration comes as a result
of my mixed emotional states
My parents doubted that I would have never made it this far
Because most micro preemie baby never survived

I doubt, doubt would never leave my side
Through the pain, through the doubt, here I am
today the doubtful unknown poet

To all my followers
This year let my words nurse you
Back to life,
Come hold the end of my pen
Let’s us take this poetic journey together
Words without end: Amen



*Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass it's about
learning to dance in the rain