I can't stand these lonley nights.
I try not to be bitter for it is blight.
It consumes me whole how i lost a future so bright;
The girl, my friends, my dignity gone like waning light.
How can any of this truly be right?
But no matter how hard i stress my plight,
I still come to realise it was never really  right,
For they never cared for me their love was tight,
And in their depature i found the light.
Lonely yes, but now i can stand these nights,
And yes for company i still do fight.
But i know it will come when the time is right.
I guess for now its just another lonley night.

He stood in his black jacket, 
a cold grey breeze making his skin shiver 
as his shoes touched rusty metal, 
his feet vibrating from the light 
that promised peace, a pleasant feeling. 

It drew closer, 
each second the sound growing louder, 
his body trembling with every movement the light made. 
He glimpsed it brighter to his right, 
but where was the sound? 

Only his inner voice echoed, 
he knew he wanted this, 
but why did he hear only himself screaming? 

The light was near, 
he must move, yet he was stuck. 
This was his chance, his peace, his freedom, 
all he had ever longed for. 

But as he resolved to act, the light passed, 
angels’ faces flashing by, eyes wide with shock, 
and in an instant, his life slipped back into his grasp.

He seeks the blood of Jesus to silence the screams, 
a fleeting calm before the roar returns, louder than before. 

His body, worn and weary from addiction's grip, 
the screaming intensifies as he gazes outside, 
where only clouds loom and trees stand lifeless. 

He can only pray his body will allow him to move today, 
that the light will guide him this time, 
and that the angels will open their arms wide. 

What will still the screaming, 
what will reveal the vibrant colors others see? 
Though the light may lead him away from the screaming and the dead trees, 
It blinds him completely, leaving only darkness.

You call me a girl,
You call me a young woman,
You use she/her pronouns,
Hearing that, makes a little more of my soul die.

Oh you ask why?
It might because I'm a f*ing guy,
I may look like a girl but I'm not,
So quit being such a thot.

I am a male no matter what that paper says,
I came out to you and you throw me down,
You said I could trust you but you lied,
But I'm supposed to confide,

I come out as Trans and Pan,
But you refuse to call me a man,
I try to explain,
But all I can hear is you complain.

I'm getting the hair cut and the dye,
Maybe then you will see a guy,
Just in case I'm getting a binder,
Just so you can see the reminder.

I'm no longer your little girl,
Nor am I your daughter,
I am your Transgender son,
I am your little boy.

Sailing soft, frozen in time--
Sat on your chair where I could've sworn
I saw a past life regression flash along

Your face. Stuck there now,
I'm alone now and forever forth.
For years I stored half my cash into a box
without second thought
just to end up spending it all in six months.

that last crash erased all the academic pablum
that proved less required reading
  more distraction.

Just a border now,
head against an extending wall,
Witless and stonecold sober;

At ease with every unanswered craving
And coexisting with a life where nothing goes
   according to plan.

Death is stalking me.
It watches me play cards,
smoke cigarettes, and
drink beer.
It took my parents, two
brothers, and all my friends.
It got Chris last week.
20 bottles of whiskey in
seven days, I suppose that
would **** anyone.
They found him on the
railroad tracks.
Death is stalking me.
I won't cheat it.
I won't escape it;
but before it gets me,
I bet I finish
this poem.