In day,
I know
a burden.
A person,
should
never
be.

It's just,
my
expectations
outpace
my
empathy.

What is love,
but quotas
fulfilled?
Physical
and
emotional
gain?

In night,
I go
by Tri-Met.
Chinatown's
streets
beckon
me.

I hold
my
neck upright, tall
as I
can
possibly.

I left a
hollow husk/
body double,
sleeping on
my couch,
beside my
dead flame
and her bed.

Between the snoring,
and my black feet,
I escape easily.

What is love,
but quotas
fulfilled?
Physical
and
emotional
gain?

When I escape,
I can be who
I know I want to be.

So in the crisp night,
in the fresh rain,
I take a time slot,
so I can dance
away my pain.

I never knew
it was easy,
easy as this.

there is an empty stretch
of highway
somewhere deep in my bones
cracked tarmac and faded center line

dandelions blooming up out
of the divots of
my sleepless nights
and it is beautiful

and sometimes lonely
like being 7 years old
and knowing i like girls
but also that i am not a girl
and not having the words
to bring that part of me to life

and the first time i kissed a girl
flowers exploded out of
every chip in my armor
making me feel like i could
build a home in my own body
for the first time in 5 years

but everything burns eventually
and flower stems become matches
way too easily
and a hollowness beyond dissociation
something i couldn’t dig out
no matter how hard i tried

and the first boy i liked
i couldn’t tell if i wanted
to kiss him or be him
but both sounded pretty nice

and after the right man to
make me stop being a lesbian
turned out to be myself
the first boy i kissed was on accident
but i wanted to kiss him again
and that stretch of highway seemed less lonely
and more like it would accommodate two
people holding hands
walking side by side

If you count the cracks
I will open my mouth for you
The injury
The injury,
falsely gaping
it doesn't fit and you count again
Look at my fingers
Stroke the edges
Feel the curves
How wrong can it be?
You press a hand to what's wrong
You hold my problems
Apples and Oranges
What if neither was real?
The inside is flesh
It yields
It yields
But if I do not ask you to count
my mouth will never have a use
Swallow my tongue for me
You put me in a place, but it isn't mine
Whose body is this?

It’s a blank white slate with the entirety of human achievement inside of it
A way to talk to billions, to drown myself in enough entertainment to make me sick
It’s an echo chamber
It’s an echo chamber
Each night I scream into these walls
Beating myself into a vagus nerve induced frenzy
Slap these thighs and pull out wiry hair
Snap my fingers, my rough knuckles dancing as blows rain down
Like so many rainy days locked away
Seething meat blasted into oblivion
Because you have to do it don’t you?
Despite all the words
All the reassurances that you aren’t a liar
You want to do it
You want to think you want to do it
You are so confused
Cut the meat
Punch the beef
It’s an echo chamber
With occasional melodies belting out from underneath the door frame
Little moments when you collapse
No beauty in the death of the ugly ways
A cracked ceramic mask
Made by a kindergartner
Because I never learned how to paint my face
I never learned any language other than man
It’s not a matter of how I feel
It’s a matter of can I always feel this way
It’s a matter of whether or not I’m still riding on the echoes of a voice that only brings to mind the haziest of memories
It’s a matter of who looks back at me in this prison, this room
Who will greet me in my nightmares tonight?
Who will look back at me in the mirror?
When did those stop being two sides of the same coin?
I pound and beat and mash pale flesh against the steamed surface
Please, take me out of this two way hell
This two time place

do you know what it’s like
to feel like you live
in the cage?

do you know what it’s like
to hate what you see
in the mirror?

do you know what it’s like
to flinch when you hear
your voice?

do you know what it’s like
to break down in the bathroom
and cry into sleep?

do you know what it’s like
when you are
in the wrong body?

My heart breaks for you. Tears overwhelm me every time I think of you.
I remember your flowing dark brown hair that reached down your entire back.
My God, it was beautiful.
We’d jump out of the bathroom window onto the trampoline to see who’d go the highest.
It was incredible. We were so innocent... for a time.
But things change, usually for worse.
I recall walking in on our brother on top of you and our sister.
Both of your eyes were swelling begging me to do something.
Sadly, I had no social cues to understand what was going on...
**** my autistic brain.
I should have stopped it.
I should have told mom and dad.
Instead I failed you.
I feel like it’s my fault you choose a life of debauchery.
Rock bottom can’t be real because your keep finding ways to dig yourself deeper.
First the drinking, then the drugs, now choosing to become my “brother”.
When I first heard it set a clock in my mind. A countdown ‘til I hear of your inevitable death.
You say it’s a choice, but in reality you’re willingly stepping into death row with yourself as the executioner.
There is a way out though.
And I beg you to take it.
Please, shave your sunken face and come to the true savior.
You’ll no longer need to fill a hole in your soul because He will restore it in its entirety.
I just hope it’s not too late.

Soon to be so real.
I choose a name
to take
the place
of the
name she
gave me
at birth.

Why would I want to be named
after your **** addicted friend
and unrequited love interest?

Soon to be so real.
I choose my own
good name
to take
the place
of the
name of
my cut
blood ties.

Why would I want the name
of the alcoholic ***** sprayer
who saw the baby face and ran away?

I'm not
the men you knew.
I'm not
the man you will.

I am the practical
implementation
of a carnelian lust.

The trumpet of
the name of shame.