A LIFE OF LINES upon a page upon a chest would you believe it yet. WOULD YOU SEE a crime to vandalize or would it be a pleasure to your eyes. A WORK OF ART upon this skin but would it do the trick within. AN EMPTY BOOK full of boxes full of checks though the emptier it gets. A SKULL THATS SPLITTING full of gritting anger and emotion. COULD IT HEAL or might it just rot the soul increase ten fold fester and congeal. WOULD YOU FEEL a flame beneath your palm or would it burn not noticing at all beacause doesnt seem youre reacting as youre getting mauled. MAYBE ITS that spot within your chest between the things they just cannot forget. THAT SPOT WHERE THERES an open wound from which your heart falls out each moon and to the ground it hits the stone and there it sits til you atone for deeds that maybe have occurred though the pain is to insure. BUT DO YOU THINK the tear will ever close. DO YOU THINK youll ever add two more. COULD YOU EVER have three lines upon your chest all neatly in a row. AND IF YOU DID the body still could rid the heart each time returned to core and blood inside your head coagulated red with palms that have been burned - THEN WHAT WOULD IT BE FOR.

rainy days like these
I fill them up with
tenderness,
visions of the unknown
like lymphatic vessels
roaming the world
just to keep myself
from not knowing
that even the gods are weeping
or hidding their cries
in unwritten stories
when the pain is so
so so so so so
alive

what a blessing
what a chance
what an accident
a wonder:
the horizon itself is in
transition
to something other
than the blue speed
of the earth

There is for everything under heaven a time,
And mine has come,
And mine has been,
And mine has become history,
And so now time for something new,
For someone new,
Someone with whom to enjoy
The benefit of all the lessons learned
With me,
Someone fresh and unsullied
By our mistakes
And our cocking up,
The rows and the stupid misunderstandings,
A bright new future in
Those sunny uplands we oft discussed,
Those painful conversations
We both hated to perceive the truth of
Have come home at last to roost,
For everything under heaven
A time comes,
For everything and everyone
A time also leaves,
So now I am left,
Now I am alone,
As perhaps
Indeed
Should be.

No longer set back by the uncomfortable masses of fat resting on my chest
I’m free to live and breathe DEEPLY
Each day I uncover more of the truth to who I am
I spent many years yearning for this feeling of relief
Here it is
I’m ready

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

Today I can look in the mirror and see myself
752 days and one major surgery later but wow I see myself

his hair is
his clothes are
his voice is
the scent just so
his hands are
his
he is.
his eyes are
they are happy
his eyes are happy
his eyes are his
imagine if they were yours
mine
i could become him
but would i
and if i could then will i
there are so many tears i hold they slip between my fingers
they could be his
would they be his
to become
to wish
and to imagine
is to feel
is it not
and with it pain.
falling sinking drowning
would his eyes be happy
will his eyes be happy
will his eyes be
will he
would it be for such
or is he never realized
indebted soul
to the theorized
im not sure if my hands are fuller
but either choice is incredible
to be offered
such a weight that is to water
it pins me to the floor
or to the wall it keeps me cornered
is this what it feels to be killed
or merely to have lived
and if latter
then perhaps
id like to know the former.