I'm desperately searching an outlet
But you act
and you write
and you paint
and sometimes, when no one hears it, you even sing

I have enough outlets, but i can't let myself out
I don't come out
Maybe that's the thing
Maybe that's where the problem lies
But I still search

I try to craft my feelings away
And then, on better days I feel so confident
I am my own outlet
My own porthole

But what about these other days?
I don't have time
Again, I should long be asleep
I feel like school's eating me

And I just add the salt and pepper

An image
It stares back at me
Such a peculiar, yet familiar face
It lives

My heart begins to pound as a voice seeps into my head
I know it well
It breathes a poison that clouds my thoughts
I look back to the stranger

The figure looks at me
Their form is perfect
I see myself
And I am wrong

A smile of kindness and beauty materializes
It is beloved by many
The expression I see before me is long dead
Lost to the perpetual whisper

I sigh as I let it envelop me
Why resist?
It’s words buzz about
Telling me what I already see

A ghost
No longer are they real
Were they ever?
I may never know

The husk that I see,
The stranger I know so well
Looks one last time





I turn away

once upon a time
a boy lived in a castle
and someone was trying to climb
up to rescue him

but he fears that’s not enough
because he was stuck
stuck in the muck
of a very dysphoric rut

he didn’t want to be stuck
but he thinks
it’s just his own bad luck
he was born
without holding a freakin’ blue truck

he built the castle to protect
from the others that will disrespect
that’s not correct
but it’s what he expects

he hopes people will understand
that he’s a real boy
and this wasn’t planned
this "change" is for him
and not for anyone else in the land

maybe when the someone gets up here
he might be able to tell them about all his thoughts
and make it all clear
maybe, hopefully,
in the new year

There's a knot in the base of my throat.
It plants itself and grows roots inside my lungs.
A thought escapes and the roots ****** against my chest and I'm struggling to breath.
My eyes blurred the world leaving me with distorted images that mix with bleeding colors.
I sit there frozen.
What is this body that leaves me numb?
I despise the thought of being another broken.
Why can't I make my thoughts look prettier?
I couldn't give it what it needed.
I searched for it in the exchanges of whispers as I laid my body down for the boys who wanted their turn.
I searched for it in the moon that illuminates my hair.
It was the only thing I could count on when I looked up.
I dreamt that it would take me in the purple clouds if I could just swing high enough.
Floating like a feather but my heart full and heavy from the moonlight.
But I haven't swung in so long and these roots keep growing.
Weighing my chest down more and i'm scared i'll never get to fly.

I've tailored so many suits,
Switching out mismatched buttons for shining brass,
And restoring fabric worn thin over years of well-loved use.

But I cannot tailor this traitorous skin to fit me right.
In some placed it's too lose,
In others too tight…
I cannot switch out the pieces of me I'd rather live without
For new pieces shining with pride.
There is no way to restore a body to what it should have been,
Or even to the simple majesty of what it once was.

Young and ignorant of its uneven seams.

I've hemmed ladies' skirts to the perfect lengths
So they no longer need to worry about tripping over the excess.
Hemmed them to show just the right amount of ankle
Or perhaps none at all..

But I cannot hem myself..

This excess emotion staining my voice denoted me as "she."
And I trip over my own voice that no longer fits in my mouth..
While gorgeous girls in gowns show off thin strips of themselves,
I am left trying to hide every piece of my skin.

This is why I have risked sunstroke in the dead of summer
Wearing a hoodie and jeans to keep me safe.
This is why swimming pools are often synonymous with nightmare.

I no longer know how to wear this body with pride.

So when they ask me when I knew I wasn't a girl…
I have to restrain my urge to laugh and cry all at once.
Because when do we know that something is not as perfect as we once thought..
Only once it has been shown to us and we've been told to fix it.

I wish I could go back to being ignorant of my uneven seams.
These uneven seams that I cannot rip out unless I want to bleed out.
These uneven seams that I will never be able to fix to perfection.

But maybe…
Slowly,
Ever so slowly,
We might be able to stretch the seams of this world.
So that no child has to learn to hate or fear
Their jagged edges
Their unhemmable spaces…

…
…
…
…

But I cannot be one of those children..
So I will use chemicals to hem my voice..
Readjust my buttons…
Stretch my seams…
I will find a seamster more experienced then I
To rip out these traitorous strings
And rearrange the fabric to a more seemly drape.

I will use new fabric to cover up the patterns I am no longer proud of…
The patterns that cloud my days…
I will mend my ways
Learning to live in a patchwork maze
Until my spirit can return to where it truly belongs
In a beautiful blaze.
- EPL 11/6/2017

Depression can be found coiled tightly around my heart
Tugging on the strings to evoke painful memories.
Things that could have been,
Of dreams that can never be real.

Depression can be found in the mirror,
mocking my body for how it’s all wrong,
fat in places, there shouldn’t be.
Roundness where there should be angles.

Depression can be found in nature
where the beauty or lack thereof,
reminds me of how it isn't 'home'.
The stars don’t shine here.

It is always overcast.