Peter once asked: which things make you feel something?

And the truth is I’ve been play pretending since quarentine
When I started to believe in a glamourous life

Lillies of the valley, meditation
Behind sunrise filters there’s someone unhappy, black and white
With a dull and wrinkled skin, she hates the sun
She always thought about her vocations
House decorator but she never could do it right
Just like singing, or dancing or even flerting but not like holding a gun

She lives in a small and warm house
Which she always wished the old roof to cave in
No garden, no breath, but death
Never met the green but fell in love with violence
And by that I mean - her mother talks about the path

God, unfriend of mine
Please, let me d-die

I’ve been play pretending since quarentine
When I started to believe in a fitness life

*** with cellulite but not like Jupiter
Curves all over the body but not like the ones on the road
There is hair, but not long enough and strong enough like Rapunzel's - for her men to entrust her with the climb
There are big arms, but not like Anette's because no one would stay in it for that long
There’s no art on her

November 1st 2021, she noticed that she was thinner but she couldn't wear her high waisted pants like she always wanted
Her mother would **** her if she did
So she prayed one more time

God, unfriend of mine
Please, let me d-die

I’ve been play pretending since quarentine
When I started to hide in the night life

‘Don’t trust the moon, she’s always changing’

Peter once asked: which things make you feel something?

So she prayed one more time

God, unfriend of mine
Please, let me d-die

i cut and i cut and i cut and i cut and yet
Still, it is there. One
post-it-note in permanent marker,
a diary entry written in pen.
Woman, it says.
Woman.

Real Not Fiction
A hole is a hole said the Mule
As he stuck his stump up a slapper
This saying was mirrored by another
Who told a story of his friends

And what recently happened
One long term friend has a gal
They’d been together 7 years
And planned to get married
Spending a lifetime together
Already lovers and more

You know how it goes
So to be happy in bliss
But a big problem arose
Another old school pal

Caused a fuss with the gal
Who was a guy before!
So now you’re a gal not a guy
How did that come about?
A trip to Thailand and cash
Lots of cash from her rich family

The school pal seeing the gal
Wasn’t aware of any of this
Just that he was in love
Happy and going to be married

To a gal who was once a guy
He was oblivious to this
Unlike the other ex-pupil
They gave the gal guy it
A week to tell her fiancé
All of the truth of they’d do it

I told the pal who knew them all
Make sure the guy who
Knew them all
Never killed the gal

Who was once a guy
Like the American one
What will happen
Within this week
Happiness or war?
A hole is a hole

Even if no kids
Reality not fiction
The Mule was right

The world is hollow
And I am just a guy
I find it hard to swallow,
But logic must apply

Without it, I am lost
There's no alternative
I wish I knew the cost
To live how I want to live

Dear Testosterone,
You made me sweaty, ***** and sometimes angry too
But I would be lying if I could say I know what I’d do without you
You changed my life from the outside in
Showed me that living as my true self is not living in sin
Each month I’m amazed by how much change I see
In my face, my voice, my hair and all of me

A seemingly fine day ruined with one headline.
Then another. And another. And by the time my phone stops buzzing the news couldn't be any clearer.

We lost a battle today. A battle for basic humanity, a battle to our own autonomy.

"Women" lost. "Women" should be afraid. "Women". "Women". "Women".

Every headline I read talks about how scary the world is for women.

Yes, the world is scary for women...or anyone with a ******.

I don't want to make this about me. Because it's not. It's about every transgender man that fights for healthcare on a daily basis. It's about every non-binary person assigned female at birth who can get pregnant.

and yes....it's about women.

It's about people (men and women) who think their ideals should determine what I do with my body.

It's about every pastor, minister, judge, and human being who feels they have a say in how my life is lived.

Poetry has always been and will always be political.

Poetry is art and art is expression of feeling.

Today....I'm ******.
I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.

The same feeling of dread I felt during the 2016 election.
The same feeling of dread I felt the night of the Pulse Orlando shootings.
The same feeling of dread I feel every time I think of wearing my trans pride shirt out in public.

I'm not afraid to say how absolutely terrified I am....I'm just afraid for whatever is coming next.

Sincerely,

- Your friendly ****** having transman.

I don't know what to say.
This is horrible and terrifying.
To ***** out the hope and joy of so many children.
To criminalize the support of their wellbeing.

Death will come from this.
Children choosing death as they see their existence outlawed.
Supporters of such laws know what they are doing.

You know who you are.

When I have no mirror
And my thoughts run free
I am suddenly a monster
and no longer me

When I'm surrounded by a crowd
My bones splinter out
My elbows bend backwards
And my voice is a shout

Though I know it's not true
I know I'm no beast
Voices race through my head
And greedily they feast

I'll bend over forwards
To cave into my chest
To make myself smaller
So maybe they'll rest

And when I'm finally home
No that cant be
In the mirror I look
Unable to see

Who is that kid
Whose eyes I see
How pretty he is
But that's not me

You can't erase your face.
You can't retrace or displace
the lines you dislike.
Some people try. Why?
At best it makes a mess.

Why am I upset by a little extra bone?
The external effects of my natural testosterone?
How can a bit of unwanted hair excite despair?
Why do I care?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I pointlessly worry
about silly points
like the size of my shoulders
or my knee and thumb joints.
My hairline, my brow ridge,
the shape of my nose,
my masculine pelvis,
my crooked man toes...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes are fine --
My only feature I like.
My shy smile is alright
but not too wide
'cause of my overbite --
-- the size of those incisors!

Now, some would say that I'm just vain,
so self-obsessed I've gone insane.
But I would say that's how we're trained,
At least in this day and age.

Others might paint me like Dorian Gray
praying to Satan for youth to stay,
but I just wish it hadn't gone this way.

Why would you keep your looks immutable
if you were never to begin with beautiful?