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.

For all of my life
I have been plagued with something
that I didn't know the name of
and than when I grew up
and I came to know what the name was
it all felt wrong to me
and I wanna speak my truth
but I fear for my words
for others
will label me as hateful
when really I wanna share it
because I think
healing is powerful and its possible
I am trying to own my truth
and not care what others think or say
from the time I was a child
I experienced lots of harrassment and violence
which i internalized to mean
that it was because I was a woman
so its like half of me loves feminine things
and the other half of me  just wants to be a man
so often
When I look at her she feels afraid
because they told her growing up
to shut up and be silent
to cook clean and be still
and that never quenched her spirit
so in my life
I have always done the hard things
I am choosing to sit with myself
to learn how to accept myself more
for I know that if i were to transition
or to slap a label on myself
I would just keep on hiding my true self
and I would always try to be something that I am not
so even though at times it hurts deeply
only really because of the mysogonoy
that I still see around me and experience at times
I will still choose to sit in my life
and I am still choosing to heal myself
and to have hope
that I am getting better little by little
I wish more voices like mine
can be heard
without being labeled
as hateful
for I don't hate
I understand there is a real lack of knowledge
out there in the world
and people like me
who don't fit the perfect mysognistic box of how women
are suppose to be
should be embraced and held instead of judged
this is my truth
and I have been longing to make it heard
for a very long time.

My whole life
I felt so much shame in my whole being
like I was born wrong
that everything about me was so wrong
because I was born into a family
where I never recieved love attachment or true joy
where I was always picked on bullied and harrassed by
pretty much everyone in my life.
Where everytime I felt my dysphoria
I felt wrong
Iike it was wrong to feel like a girl
but wanna be a boy at times ...
but now that I am healing myself
I see that there is nothing wrong with who I am
that I am beautifully made
and that I am just different in my own way
and that is beautiful ,
I am a person who thinks for myself
who has always questioned it all
and that's why I was able to leave a super opressive religion
and hometown.
It's been my saving grace.
Someone who is super creative
who has a super big heart and soul
who feels so many many things
so when others even in a well intended way
try to tell me that I am non binary or something like that
or queer,
the labels don't feel like they  fit me,
because I am who I am
and I don't like labels,

I am learning to not  judge myself
but to just accept myself,

that I have a right to exist
to live a good beautiful life
of my own choosing
to learn that I am powerful by just being me
by just existing,
and that there was never anything wrong with me
I AM Who I AM.

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.