i know what it is like
when your fortress of solitude doesn't look like you
you get looked at but somebody else is being seen

i know because that happens to me too
i don't know whose body this is but i want
her to come back and make it convenient again
that isn't really it, definitely not it
i don't know what i want

i have to write this because i know if i said it
or read it out loud
it wouldn't be my voice that you hear
and that's the whole thing, isn't it?

i'm sorry i called you cute but i
wasn't talking about You i was
talking about your idea to kiss my nose
and the message you left on my refrigerator
that was you, in there, i see you
i know that you are in there and
i am in here too

On the street, I have to pretend.
School, work.
Home, church.
I pretend.
To be cis.
To be straight.
To be everything everyone wants me to be.
But when I get by myself,
And shut my bedroom door,
I can breathe again.
I take off society’s rules,
I shake off gender roles.
I close the door on heteronormativity,
And I toss “She” in the trash.
I am me again. “Thank God.”

I am not an “It.”
I am a person,
Just not the kind that fits your views.
Do not attempt to dehumanize me
Without consequence.
Not on the sidewalk,
Not in church,
Not at home, Nor school.
I am,
“They.”
“Them.”
“Their.”
But never
“It.”

“There are only two genders.” My dad.
“But in other cultures-” Me.
“They don’t apply here.” My mom.
“Why not?” Me.
“Because I don’t like it.” My classmate.
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It doesn’t mean I don’t exist.” Me.
“It’s against God.” My church.
“I think God loves no matter what.” Me.
“You’ll go to hell.” My priest.
“You’re so hateful I’ll see you there.” Me.
“You just want attention.” My depression.
“Please...I just want to be myself.” Me.
“You can. Just so long as you fit what we say.” Them.

She thought of me
She looked at me
She thought I was a boy
And her disappointment
Pressed my heart for noise
I am neither fish nor fowl
I am not required to choose
I am still a human being
I am all I have to lose
In the crevice of the wall
In the corner of my head
Is a burning thought
Why do I have to be a boy for you to like me?

gender = input("male or female: ?")

def binary:
    if gender == "male" or "female":
        print("born with hex codes
        printed for all to see
        blue or red
        sticking to the binary
        hardwares dictate who you are
        produce more to strengthen security
        ignore black hat delusions
        DON'T reject this false unity
        01110011 01101111 01110011")
    if gender != "male" or "female":
        print("404 ERROR NOT FOUND")

I'm not a person who collects things
I live a very minimalist's life
But I have a bag of treasures
I keep close to me day and night

I sleep on an old painted daybed
It squeaks softly as I lay down
Most of my clothes are second hand
And my shoes a little worn down

But I have some precious treasures
Hidden in bags of different names
Fendi, Burberry and Prada
Leathers and fabrics of worldly fame

My treasures are hidden deep inside
In makeup bags and zippered pockets
Shiny compacts full of velvety colors
From Paris, Milan and Rome

A black cloth bag of 8 tiny bottles
Protected from the sun and rain
Bottles of perfume oils made in an alchemist's lab
With names like Dragon's Milk, Snow White and Bliss

A Christian Dior handkerchief or two
Hangs delicately inside the bag
In case the breeze brings on a sneeze
Or I notice a tear in the eye of a friend

by Mark Lj

When I attempt to think about my future, I know I can't. I know, I can only do what I can now to piece together my future like a puzzle. I want to get on T, I want to cut my hair shorter than my parents allow, I want more body modifications, I want to have a completely flat chest, but at the moment, I can't imagine what I'd turn into. A butterfly I'm not able to picture yet. I am at the moment, a small catapillar, not being able to pass for the gender I wish. She's. Hers'. That's not what I want directed towards me. I wants he's and they's. Male and neutral term are what I want my friends to use. Not my birth name, Kit. Kit Lucas Zachary is what I'll become when I get older and scrounge the money together to make that change possible. I must change myself and bold myself into what I want to be happy, even if that means I lose people, I can deal. If they don't agree with how I feel, they don't need to be in my life anyway. I can't say that I'm a boy yet, I can't say I'm pansexual yet. The violence that is occurring against my LGBTQ+ people locks my lips together to my parents, and possibly some of my friends, because I don't want them to be my demise. In this hick state of Texas. My chest binder must be put up due to high summer tempatures, it's too hot to have on so I can't feel at home in my own body. I hate my feminine face, and my father uses double standard, making me shave, making me feel naked and incorrect. I feel incomplete, like I haven't had my right growth spirt, my right puberty. "Oh yeah, she-" makes me want to put a bullet in my head, but it I pulled the trigger I know my family wouldn't understand why. "Hey girl!" don't look, don't turn, they aren't talking about you. But, once I'm an adult with a steady income, I hope to become the person I wish to be.