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alt title: befriend demons detested.  throw them (a party).

alt title: bury the hatchet / forget it(s resting place).

alt title: cry (less.  feel) more.

alt: love / alt-love.

(alt.) LOVE.
notes on unexpected police harassment & questioning in a public space.
birdy May 2022
I'm crying for a girl who never existed.
One who failed but always persisted,
to try and figure out
what makes one woman.
these thoughts about gender felt like a shout,
but this 'girl' was still figuring it out.
Now this person mourns the loss,
of this gender that felt like an albatross.
Willow SR Mar 2022
i am not a vibrant ocean blue
nor as pink as the sunset sky

i am not the daughter you watched grow
nor will i ever be a guy

i am not anything you said I'd be
instead, I am simply me
E Nov 2021
I engage in transness
but with no emphasis on transition
I am not one to the other
I am on a continuum that can't be defined
to male or female
if I opened up on what parts define me
you'd be in for a while
my transness is not fixed
my transness is evergrowing and bountiful
it doesn't stop at male or female
I've passed what it means to be trans
I've ran the marathon
and won at the finish line
transness has it's own path
not what cisgender people decide
I live in a revelation of social control
by what's under inclusivity
the performance of transitioning is over
I engage in transness
and I exist with no finish line
A shocking revelation, not so shocking revelation has dawned upon me and I realize I am not aligned with simply male or female. I deviated from the socialization of female and I am now deviating from male socialization and roles. I am deviating because the performance of gender doesn't do me much anymore except back pain and bruised ribs. The performance of male or female as a trans person is often unrelenting and empty. Performing has made me hyperaroused by those perceivimg me, anxious about failing my performance and getting sexually or physically assaulted, and has honestly not done me anything good in the past year and a half. All I get from that is being gendered "he" and even that isn't really affirming. I suppose it's better than She/her but it's all in the same if it's binary.
My existence cannot be boxed into either or.
I feel as though my experience with gender is always transforming and adapting to what's most comfortable.
Being a binary trans person felt comfortable because it was the only viable option from female. Now, performing/being perceived as male is not making me comfortable.
I don't want to die a man. I don't want to die a woman. This doesn't even take into consideration how I'll always be perceived as A or B. Gender is confusing. I identify as genderqueer, but also "not available."
E Aug 2021
my body is simply not conventional
to the clothes I wear
there are dips and hills plastered on my figure
hanes doesn't take into account
my weight or my height
so pulling up the waistband
drills the cotton into my skin
with no room to breathe
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
the hunch back of Notre Dame meets
a protruding belly that widens my waist
when I wear shirts
fabric strangles my hips
displaying my grotesque body
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
aged binders do their best
pools of skin are dipping out the sides
my ribs ache and it's hard to ignore
when my body wails a cracking chaos
pain and overstimulation have crept into dreams
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
my body is not conventional
but it doesn't bring despair
my body is not conventional
and you can't begin to understand it
because it's too crippling to bear
it's staggering to peep into a mirror
seeing my being labeled unpleasant
with the unnerving urge to rip my eyes out
and splatter my blood on the glass
why don't I just break down and sit there
it's heavy to carry my weight and be hyperaware
it's easy to not care and maybe I'd take that route
but I'm not conventional
so I'm taking another way downstairs
Looked at my body, thought to myself, "my body is not conventional to the clothes I wear" and just had to write. It's 2am at night but when writing calls, I have no option but to answer.
there are multiple things I am referencing when I wrote this.
I am referencing that I am not conventionally attractive. My body doesn't hurt people but people are disgusted by it because of its transness, obesity and blackness. Certain clothes and undergarments physically and emotionally cause me harm. Most people would not understand the relationship I have with my body. I like it but there are times an instinct comes in and wanting to mutilate it to fit into standards of what's beautiful. Splattering my blood is my statement to society to how harmful standards and social norms affect me as a trans person. And lastly, being ignorant to these issues is a solution, not a great one, but because I refuse to partake in willful ignorance as most typical people do, I will manage these problems in a way that is healthy and different somewhere else. I hope this is explained well enough. Goodnight
E Jun 2021
pieces of my puzzle are aligning
trauma and enlightenment go well together
it seems as though once you've hit rock bottom
the very top feels like heaven

a walking contradiction
how do you go from wanting to die
to living your life with authenticity

pieces fitting in shapes never seen before
pieces shifting sizes finishing the next assignment

a life on hold
holds very little to me

finishing my next task is today
but what is for tomorrow?
craving more isn't selfish
it's fulfilling
questions make me contemplative
unable to sleep at night
thoughts running for more
the adrenaline keeping me alive

pieces of my puzzle can break apart
pieces deceive me and don't actually fit
it is a lesson to look more closely

a piece has appeared
it's unclear where it goes
where it starts
where it ends
it will belong in due time
hello, it has been a long while since I published anything publicly. I've made one or two works this whole year in private but not a whole lot. poetry is relieving for me when I fall into depressive states not so much when I'm stable. But I am starting a new chapter in my life.
E Jan 2021
little me, why so sorrow?
what makes you disconnect?

seeing your body in pictures
sent shivers down your neck
the rhythmic beating
pounding as an alarm
body restless
when will you get rest then?

little me, you waited quite a while
family's opinions turned vile
it didn't matter much
you never connected
only as much as
a charger is to phone

escapism buried her
when he could be online
reversing roles and affirming yourself
only gained so much self help
a tool to be unlocked

little me, you had blocks in front of you
you played with them as trial
until they weren't meanwhile
so what did it mean to you?
what did you learn?
how did you grow?
what did you learn?

little me, you're too young to understand
one day you'll find who I am
we've always been together
tight knit and forever
don't lose the game of cards  
unless you want your graveyard
Saw a picture of myself from about 6 or 7 years ago and felt inclined to write a message to myself then. If I met a younger version of myself, I wouldn't have told them everything that's happened so far. I would've just asked them why they do the things they do, and to think critically. having exposure to internet was great, but it did rot my mind.
E Dec 2020
Dysphoria is lifting a hot cup of bare black coffee to your lips
It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and third degree burns on your skin

It's one of the strongest romances I've had
She stalks wherever and whenever
Yet when pools of blood start to pour
Subsequently from slashes on my wrist
A smile stands tall on my brim

The story of hypocrisy beyond comprehension
How could a human find themselves in obsession
With disorders more dangerous than inventions
And still hold empathy in question

Truth is,
Despotic relations fueled with dissonant expectations
Transcend into deeper feelings of euphoria
Barbwire grappling my throat for seconds that feel like years
But then the pressure suddenly decreases
I'm left with rusted thorns and gaping flesh
Undoubtely grateful to stay alive
Relief washes over and taking a breath feels heavenly
As the opportunity to face demons comes again
The chances of overcoming rise above my head

Hazard and danger don't become horror anymore
If you take it by the throat and butcher it first
Growing into a body you dislike
while everyone is having the best time of their lives
you can't help but feel envy
people can show more skin than you do
because you hide in fabric that binds
people can go about daily conversations
you can't due to anxiety on how your voice sounds
people can walk into bathrooms without thinking
while some wonder if they'll be assaulted simply for being different

the presence of dysphoria hinders the quality of life
it's painful.
it leaves you jealous and scarred.
and the presence of euphoria reverses every horror of dysphoria and slams it on its head.
euphoria makes you feel ****, empowered, powerful.
Anxiety and stress erase while you feel radical and loathe in self-love for how you've crafted yourself to feel happy.

The existence of hate and how I am expected to accept it into my life, turning it upside down and under, makes euphoria even more satisfactory. The feelings of radicalness I feel will never be felt by a cis person. They do not hold the same roles to accept that their life will be miserable and unlovable on the basis of gender identity.
E Dec 2020
I don't know what I am anymore
I'm too self obsessed not to care
as if I don't pass by a mirror every hour and stroke my ****** hair
standards of cis normativity never make sense
they don't make sense more than ever
why be like everyone else
when I'm already the outcast
whats the point to stop expression
whats the point to expression?
of my experience
of my encounters
of my existence
my identity will be radical
with or without cis validation
my happiness is resistance
with or without standards
we were not meant to fit in
so outgrowing it is suitable
Questioning my identity as a trans male and how I fit into society. Although I do not identify as my ***, AFAB, that does not mean I align with male roles, neither male expectations. I align more masculine and am repulsed by being misgendered, but can embrace femininity now that I see myself the way I've viewed myself for over ten years.
yann Dec 2020
i used to only love women and it felt like being so alone,
like not bringing your date to family gatherings by fear of
seeing the disapproval
in their eyes, in their mouths, in their words,
felt like being both the predator and the prey,
looking at hands and wanting to hold them and fearing that
the world would swallow me whole
if i did.

and now i love you, probably,
and what am i, if not lost,
unable to be contained in F or Ms,
unfit for any of your definitions,
ready to change my body just so i can stand to walk past mirrors and live my truth.
and loving a man feels much the same after all,
dangerous and real, like craving different hands
but knowing the world still has its mouth grand open,
just for me.
going from identifying as a lesbian to realizing im tranasc and probably a little in love with all my closest friends no matter their gender.. and realizing how terrifying it all is !
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