maybe i lay in the dirt because it’s closer to everything i’ve ever lost. grief is such a terrible thing. i don’t mind choking on it.

i am stuck inside this body. and it feels all wrong. tears sting my eyes every time i look in the mirror. the face in the reflection isn’t showing my authentic self. but god, a whole lifetime of burying myself in the dirt and i can’t seem to stop choking on it.

the roots have tangled around my body, holding me lifeless in limbo. it’s my fault for letting it condition me into believing i am not meant for anything other than soil. i must have the strength to break free, i can see the light glowing. but i am too scared to touch it after rotting in the darkness for a lifetime.

but god i just want to break free, to be rid of the worms eating away at me. i want to feel the sun on my skin. i want to know myself when i am not covered in dirt. it’s just so hard to dig myself out of it when i am the one that dug it deeper than it had ever been before. i am tired. my muscles ache.

will i ever be able to look in the mirror and see a man staring back at me? the musculature, peace in my eyes, and their perceptions correct? dirt under my fingernails proving the fight it took to break free?

i hate what i see because it is not correct. what went wrong? why was i born in the wrong body? why is this war raging inside me? why can’t i just accept it? why do i feel like sometimes i would rather just roll over in the dirt and rot?

i know there is still time but it’s not moving fast enough. i am drowning inside this body. if i could just turn adam’s rib into my own. but i fall victim to the idea i’ll always just be made from a man’s rib without ever having the body it came from. a rib is not enough. i need to be the whole creation.

I'll never be a heaven's save,
To be carried away in the next wave,
There'll be no baptism,
A demon can't change suddenly.

Abyss now lays behind my black eyes
I've been carried away as innocence dies.
My eyes are more dead than a Raven's
My soul is that of a sunken Craven.

Red stains lay in my newly built chapel,
Nothing but my own ****** hand disciple,
sickness drains as the uppers stop working,
soon the opposite side of a puddle underneath.

Waving with our battle swords,
glaring eyes a-washing a storm of
a brisk of a morning's bird-call,
If you are to die, I'm already dead.

Mama used to grip my arm
as I punched myself repeatedly ,
on my un breakable head
for being different and an alien,
in a world that appeared to be dead.

I'm alone to haunting piano recitals,
The gentle playing of the flute,
The soothing of an acoustic guitar,
The stirring of the bees of a violin.

It makes me sad
to my soul to say,
I think there’s one that got away

It would be my fate,
to meet my soulmate,
a few years too late

What could have been
is lost to the abyss,
So within my heart,
You’re mine to miss

I know I shouldn’t ache like this, I do,
You were never mine, not in word or vow.
Yet watching you with him, some part withdrew,
Like losing something sacred, even now.

I saw the signs, you turned your gaze away,
Laughed softer, answered slower, broke the thread.
But still I stitched my hope into each day,
Pretending you were paused—not gone, not led.

You never lied. You never called it love.
I wrote those dreams in ink you never touched.
You said “we’re friends,” and I said “close enough,”
While shaking hands betrayed I cared too much.

Now he walks with you where I once would dare,
My silence roars, and still I call it fair.

there is nothing poetic about the way i take up space