Trapped in snow,
My carriage enthralled.
Only sound I hear, the ravens call.
The wolves in the distance,
Their cries do tease.
Carried on the bite of winters breeze.
The trek is hopeless,
No end in sight.
I shudder fiercely in limitless night.
No fire to warm.
No stars to light.
Dawn approaches through snow ladden trees.
I cannot help but feel at ease.
Stopped to rest, my body weary.
Sleep does come, so dark and dreary.
My body numb.
No tears to cry.
Frozen dead is where I lie.
Knawed upon by bear and bird,
By wolf and shrew.
Consumed by beasts just passing through.
Bones lay picked clean,
Dressed by morning dew.
Fragmented, scattered, is where I remain.
Haunted eternally by the ravens refrain.

5/29/20

He had a disconcerting posture, one that
makes people feel uneasy about themselves.
And the days seemed to roll over— obedience to the
incessant pounding of violence and tumults.

Makes the people feel uneasy about themselves
when they lie down instead of uproar. When silence is
the incessant pounding of violence and tumults.
When the hush of a mouth becomes asphyxiation.

When they lie down instead of uproar. When silence
becomes weapons. Days roll over— obedience to the
hush of a mouth— becoming asphyxiation. When the word    “breathe”    becomes    the    last    one.

some are wicked

heartache, claws, shot in the back

some are just a soul

translucent, silent, empty sorrow

some are kissed

eyes shut, candles, relief

a poet dies

heartache

silent

empty relief

Growing, Feeling, Dreaming.
These are activities I used to do.
Growing up, Feeling emotions, Dreaming of the future.
Before I discovered I was gay.

My experience has growth, growing towards the sun,
Growing towards a box, that I could fit in.
Feeling feelings and shutting them away.
I can’t be gay.

I used to dream of great things,
Changing the world and helping people out,
But I am riddled with self-hatred,
And can’t escape, for I am a product of pressured hate.

I feel like a sunflower, Growing in the summer.
I am admired from up close but not given another look when moved on.
Sometimes I feel as though I have come to my fall,
To rid my seeds and go to sleep.

Withstand the pressure or crumble to a system,
A system of unvalued lives,
Open your eyes and see the truth,
Your gay friends are on the news.
Not as heroes or as villains but,
As stereotypes and hidden additions.

I don’t see myself, I do not see in third person,
I breathe and feel and exist as I am,
Not as a side character and not as an omission,
I am myself, and that is the mission.

As the snow falls,
all life comes to a standstill.
As we find ourselves
deep inside the comforts of our quilts,
curling up inside, feeling lonely,
and looking for a feeling of warmth inside us.
Searching for memories,
Inside these malfunctioning brains.
Memories that make us smile,
or maybe make us cry.
Our minds desperately searching,
for that feeling of being human,
being broken.
Just to feel some warmth,
only to feel cold.
Doubting all your actions,
What did I do wrong,
what mistake did I make.
It’s me.
I’m broken.
No one can do it.
Maybe we should stop hoping,
give up on everything,
Maybe it’s for the best.
Or maybe not,
Should we dare dream,
Will I be happy?
Should I do as they say,
Keep moving forward,
Into nothingness,
Hoping that things will be different,
This time?
Just as I thought,
The last time.
Looking for the end of the tunnel,
One after another,
filled with sunshine,
as everyone says.
Just to exit it,
bask in the sunlight,
as we get pushed,
into another.