I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this tind of krubble
Sever yince I was sung.

I backed things saidward
It muzz wore than embarrassing.
It got me picked lot upon
Subjected to hate grarrassing.
Sometimes wumbers nould
Lood just like wetters
Back when I was lysdexic
But I am betting getter.

Not just lysdexic am me
But I Spoonerise tum soo.
And unce that sets started
There is lo sittle I can do.
It get’s ard to understand me
And it isses some eeple poff
I really bish I could weegin
To **** to stalk like a toff.

I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this kind of rubble
Sever yince I was sung.

You are a beast,
a monster,
an evil soul,
with an ugly vendetta
and a heart of stone.

You play games with people's minds,
use them like pawns in your world,
but the thing you don"t realize is
I'm not just an ordinary girl.

I'm strong and powerful,
brave and mighty.
My heart is gold,
my soul
beaming.

I am your undoing.
The end to your games.
I stand against you,
my army behind me.
Countless soldiers
ready for battle.

You can't win against us;
our cause is just,
to strike down the evil,
the monster
the beast.

And the beast,
my dear,
is you.

LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

H  ow is it possible to have so much hate
A  midst all of those that I’m ordered to love.
T  orn by the need to stay here and fight-
R  eeling from weakness I thought I’d outlived,
E  dging towards a fall I must stop, I’m
D  odging the arrows, to keep keeping on.

F  rightened that I’m not as young or as smart,
O  lder than I ought to be at my age, I’m
R  emembering when I wielded weapons of youth.

M  y  armies of wit were were invincible then,
Y  et now only shadows of warriors past.

E  nemies bumping the sore spots they caused me, with
N  ever a thought or respect for my toil, I
E  nvy their callous neglect of my pain and
M  emorize odes to the loathing I feel.
I   light bonfires of hatred and hope not to get burned
E  scaping through tunnels of madness and fear into
S  afer environs where I can breathe free.
                                  ljm

3, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 18 and now

AGE 3
please dad no
don’t hit my brother
don’t kick him out
stop throwing things dad
mom please stop
stop threatening him
stop screaming
please stop mom and dad

AGE 10
mom can’t leave
where is she going?
is she coming back?
no? what do you mean?
mom is sick?
how sick?
please don’t leave
goodbye mom

AGE 11
first hit
first call
child’s aid
i guess its my turn for the blame
stop hitting me dad
it hurts

AGE 12
first of many counsellor meetings
but this one
this one changed my life
i went from writing
suicide notes
to thank you notes

AGE 13
im not hungry
no thank you
i’m full
i need new clothes
smaller clothes
to fit the new body
that i never fed

AGE 15
go to physio therapy they said
it will help your back they said
one visit
and i walked out crying
****** harassment filled my head
with nightmares
and bad memories
i was felt up by someone
i knew nothing about

AGE 17
stop it
*******
get a life
you’re just a stupid high school boy
oh ****
he touched me
he said things about me
inappropriate things
“sir, he’s been harassing me for months now”

AGE 18
stop
please stop
help
someone help
get off me
please
leave
go
stop
help
someone help
….
room went silent
but my tears were still streaming
down my face
as my ****** held my mouth shut

AND NOW
now i am in uni
now i have better friends
now i am safe
now i am happy
but ****
what a nightmare I've had

I have never tried so hard to scrub
the skin off of my body
every inch he so unlovingly
touched
I have never wanted to wash away
a human being
who took my morals and my body
away from me
I have never expected
to be a statistic
I have never expected
for it to be me
I am strong right?
I'm strong and free.
Until Im locked in a room
On my knees.
He humiliated
and he changed
Me.

So many contradict themselves from the bad to the good
Yesterday, I was in class...
Just like a normal day.
But, ya... see…

I find it ridiculous, and senseless that students bully other students.
They try to act tough to make up for their immaturity.
Teachers act tough to make up for their impurities.

Yesterday,  I was in class…
There’s a kid suffering through a brain disorder
Than gets bullied for it!
The thing about it was the teachers, or students did nothing about it.
I guess people don’t care for a human life.

I went up to the teacher’s desk and asked if I was able to speak to her in the hallway.
A normal conversation, ya know?
She asked me why I couldn’t speak to her there.
Well, okay.
I waited. . . and waited, then I said it.
“They’re picking on Anthony again.”

Then…
She had the courage to say to me, “I told him to sit down. He’s fine.”
******* he is.
Do you see what that kid goes through every ******* day?!
No!
You don’t.
Because you don’t. Pay. Attention.
. . . .

I went back to my desk and sat down next to my dearest friend, Kaci.
I kept looking at her, back at Anthony, back to her, back to Anthony.
Then… 1 of the kids bullying him came up to him and tried breaking his stuff.
His laptop, his pencils.
Like, excuse me!
Who the **** do you think you are?!


I was fed up with it so I said, “Leave him alone.”
The kid told me, “I didn’t do anything.”
I wanted to say *******, but we needed to leave for class.
Well, for lunch.
I ran out of the class and into the restroom.
Kaci came in with me and hugged me so much, and I couldn’t help but cry.
It would be my fault if that child died.
I couldn’t stop them.
I couldn’t help him.

The thing that really ****** me off was the teacher looked up before I yelled, and saw him getting bullied.
Okay. Hold on.
At this point, this should be over with.
But, no.
She looked at her ******* phone and continued to do what she was doing.
She did nothing!

They try teaching us to stop bullying. How about we teach you some things about helping the victim instead of becoming the person to have a child murdered.

. . .

Who new society could be so ****** up?

What would be like
to be
100%
safe?

I mean
to be that perfect combination
of visible
and invisible.

I mean
to be
left alone
while walking the streets.

I mean
to be
respected.

I mean to be a
white
straight
man.

-

I have to drill it into my head
that I love myself
as I am –
queer, ace, woman-read, brown, crazy, femme –
because if I didn’t
I’d never be able to leave the house.

I have to say
that to be otherwise
would be boring
so that maybe one day
I'll actually believe it.

But I cannot say
I have never wanted to be
100%
safe.

-

Today
I put on a short dress
I have never felt pretty enough to wear,
and walked to and from a café,
knowing what would come.

I kept track –
four honks, one leer, one whistle,
told myself:
                   you knew this would happen,
                     this is nothing,
                     you’re lucky,
                     it could be
                     so
                     much
                     worse.

It still hurt.

I practiced the motion
of flipping off the bird
as I walked,
tried to get it
as reflexive
as a cop with a loaded gun,
knowing
that it would make no difference.

-

To dare to be feminine in public
is to perfect
the art of looking straight ahead
the art of being hard of hearing
the art of fast, fast, fast walking
[just in case].

So often
we have to weaponize femininity
because that’s all we’ve got.

If you're the needle,
Keep your eye
On the point.