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Thomas Mackie May 19
Bitter, sour, barely sweet,
when I was in your tummy,
you craved that acidic fruit,
and even though we've since leaned towards
different suns and
fermented,
it's still my favorite.

Your twisted seed,
what has become of me?

Growing up your love was a grapefruit.
Pulpy, complex cuts, precision with a tiny knife.
It left a sting on my lips,
but it fed me,
and it gave me vitamins and it was
juicy.
This morning as I consume these two halves I think of us.

Duplicate cells, my pink flesh and thick skin and
biting taste, all from you.
Both of us hollowed out and squeezed until we have nothing left to give, but we're still
bright yellow on the outside.
A poem for my mom
I'm just trying to live my life
Like any other human being
I get on the bus, sit on the guys side
I go through my day-to-day

I get called down to the office
I'm told I have to sit on the girls side because I'm in the system as a girl
I tell him I'm not a girl and the heteronormative system is ridiculous
I didn't do anything wrong and sit by myself anyways

He says he will see what he can do
In the hallway not long after, after school ends, going down stairs
I group of kids scream near my ears
I mumble to myself and they touch my head

I said stop
They didn't stop
I turned around
And for the first time in my life I lower myself to violence
And punch one in the leg

I break down
I'm lucky to work with such wonderful people in theatre
I just want to live my life
I just want to be left and not harassed

Im told I can sit on the boys side
I have to sit alone
I can only sit in the front or back
I have to tell the stranger next to me he can't sit there

I want to tell him why
I don't want to out myself
I have to give up the ounce of validation of being treated like a normal guy on the bus by the other guys, who are unafraid to get in trouble for sitting with me cause they don't know what I am or care

I wish...
I wish I was born right just like he and every other guy on the bus

But if I was I would not be me.

I could not understand my own struggles
Or sympathize so much with others

I could not learn and adapt the way I do now
Could not have taught myself to be brave in the same way I am

I could not have the experience of having kids with my spouse the way I want to

I would not have needed to stand up for my rights or that of others

I would not have addresssed my lack of understanding and my internalized transphobia

I am stronger for who and what I am.
My gestalt.
For learning to come to terms with the harsh truths of what I am to the world.

If that wish came true, I would not be me. I would not be
Orion.
An improv prompt from my theatre teacher/director. My group decided to do a funny skit but I wanted to answer it in a heartfelt way on my own separately.
Jay May 3
No matter how many times I'm called beautiful
or pretty, of gorgeous, or any other comment,
I will always cry when I hear the name
You try to call me adoringly...

It is dead.
I bury it here
In the words.
I write its tombstone.
Jay May 3
Oh, {deadname},

You're my beautiful daughter.
I know you're only lying.
You'll never, ever be a boy
No matter how long you keep trying.

Give up on transitioning.
Your mind has been poisoned.
The media has consumed you-
All the lies eating their way in.

Finally, you are my precious baby girl.
You're very smart, and you know that.
Don't think you're a boy- you're not.
You should put on your smiling mask

Until you're not sick anymore,

-Your loving mother
I want to leave this house... It hurts to look at myself.
ArianLlwyn May 3
That guy, that boy, that man.
The words roll round my head,
Like a big bingo cage,
Full of thin razor blades.
Lake-wet and found forgiving,
patch-work body and pasture-raised pleasure,
rolling in the grass and basking in
bare-skinned clarity.
They were right, you are a fairy.

Water filled to the brim, may I drink from your fountain,
may I toss my pennies in,
and is a wish like a prayer,
or should I save my change for rain?
Filling puddles like copper lakes,
putting a snake in for Heaven's sake,
splitting my own rib and calling it mate.

When I first saw you it was just your reflection,
you caught my attention, doubling your beauty with your liquid presence.
I asked if I could come in and take a dip in your drip,
you nymphaeum of bliss,
and you said "Yes, yes but not yet.",
like the breath we share before a kiss,
like the moment before sunset,
like the bed unmade around our shapes,
like the ripples our forms in this pool radiate.

I must grow gills because you took the breath right out of my lungs.

Love me, Pisces, Venus smiles for us.
for my girlfriend
Jay Apr 26
Pain wracks my fragile bones.
Everything hurts me,
So please, please don't
Come close or touch me.

I can't look at my body
Because it isn't what I want.
I know it's selfish, you see,
But it's a paper without a font.

My skin is a tapestry of
Beauty and pretty and all
In the perfect girl you'd love,
But guys: absolutely appalled.

Nothing matched on me-
I'm the missing left sock,
My bones' rattle is all I'll be
Until I take the final walk.
Just another day of being awake at 0300 and being unable to go back to sleep... Dysphoria knocks to the ground my mortal frame, shaking and quaking with power (or lack thereof).
max Apr 13
smart, popular boys in third grade,
with their stupid khakis
and dumb sweatshirts.
i didnt want their popularity,
i wanted to be a boy.
a smart boy with stupid khakis
and a dumb sweatshirt

the kind, pretty girls in fourth grade
their pretty hair
and painted nails
i didnt want to be a pretty girl like them
i admired them
but i was too young,
and it was too wrong

it was wrong to want to be a boy,
to want to love a girl,
want to be a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails

i should've been the perfect daughter,
but im a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails.
havent posted in ages but i wrote this a couple months ago <3
Imp Apr 3
Gender was a stupid creation

Who decided just because I have, well...
Certain bits
That it means I should wear a skirt?
Or a dress?
I mean what does it matter?
Why aren’t we just all the same?
I don’t want to choose
Because getting it wrong
Means doing again...
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