my skin is howling
my tears descend
the pain is somehow still caged
my throat swells
my jaw tightens
the hurt must stay within
its more painful than anything I’ve ever felt
like a pack of wolves tearing my heart out
the pain is eating me
eating more than I ate for the years my dysphoria got me to starve myself
i can’t hide anymore
tear me open if you must
but tear me open in the right places
I know that you love me,
the way you love a lost part of yourself.
Sometimes, I wonder
if you see
the being I am becoming
It’s hard to get good sleep
I know that’s why you pray
I don’t believe in God
who am I to say?
never thought you'd be mine
here i am pulling on your strings
playing your melodies
while the texture plays me a memory
a lost boy running for his life
in the forest overrun
clones of himself can't escape
for he is his own greatest enemy
a boy with no features
no features of a boy
or what society deems
a boy with hairless skin
and effeminate lips
a boy with no regard to how high
the decibels of his voice was
a boy who ran on his feet while withering his chest
a boy who couldn't always take in deep breaths
a boy who chose how big or how small he wanted to show the world his ***** was
a boy who didn't exactly fit the narrative
a boy nonetheless
but is it now that i am a man?
is it now that when i touch the hair on my face, it makes me he?
is it the voice i desperately tried to craft? or is it my piece of clothing that binds the skin, and bone of my body?
is it my shoes and how they're bigger and longer? maybe it's my laugh and smile that gives it away.
maybe it's nothing at all.
and i'm deemed a man for a selfish binary who doesn't care about my traumatic experiences being hunted by my own mind.
she is blind to her crashing disaster.
she'll grant me with an immunity called privilege.
immunity from being recognized as a woman, and being treated as such by code.
but at least my ****** hair is tangible.
I was caressing my ****** hair and noticed it's getting really thick and coarse. Had to write about it because it's so odd knowing a version before the present me didn't have it, in this exact moment. It feels familiar yet so, foreign. It makes me question why ****** hair or anything deemed masculine is even masculine to begin with. Where did the labels come from? "at least my ****** hair is tangible" is to show, the system in which we uphold labels and micro labels can potentially be harmful, and in my case it is, but as an outcome I got something.
A floral mat
Separates me from
The tile floor
I feel anxious despite the peace
The instructor speaks
My heart stops
Because I know
The chest binder can’t hold
Through another downward-facing dog
you shouldn’t really wear a binder when doing yoga but i would rather not exercise that do it without a binder
The weight on my chest
A distinctive sign
From the other men in the room
This is a suicide note
From the person you thought I was.
From the girl, from the woman, and
From the person who used bathrooms without a ******.
“If you are reading this
Then I am dead.
It was inevitable.
I would have died either way.
The only variable was
Whether or not
He died too.”
Pregnant clouds wait in pain to give birth to rain.
The sun leaves to its abode, and one wonders where exactly does it go.
Left us here with weather that used to be fair but all I see is gray skies.
It could change the mood of anyone but still I keep my head up high.
Here it comes, thunder rolls and lightning dances above our heads.
I'll just wait till this storm is over because there's no way I could get to bed.
Instead I sit here at this window thinking of summer and all that has happened up till now.
I'm still practicing at mastering the art of detachment, and I'm making progress somehow.
But this rain can bring alot to mind, it brings what I try to hide out
and so I sit with it, reminiscing I see your face appear in the clouds.
Just my imagination playing games with me.
Got me going through scenarios in my head, thinking bout how it'd be if you never left,
but I won't dwell on it for too long cuz it'll just leave me stressed.
The second I shake the feeling your face turns back into a cloud.
Oh, the things that happen when I reminisce too long and find myself thinking out loud.
I'm alone but not lonely, still in love with you only.
Letting it go but doing it slowly because I've been missing you...
I wake up in the bath
after a day on the wine.
Fat ******* arrives
at mine around nine.
Friday night and it's too much,
******* powder with dehydration.
Back into town,
bouncing around like a clown.
I'm the star of the show.
I'm cloaking my secret,
the one they can't know.
I'm out of my mind
and I've no Idea where.
I cannot go back,
'cause she lives in there.
I've been running for years,
purge after purge.
Yet I know come tomorrow,
I'll again have the urge.
Because I need her
and I love her.
I am her!
Poetry by Kaydee.
Running from my destiny but I couldn't run from myself anymore.
I'm uncomfortable in this feminine peice of **** others call a body
I look in the mirror and all I see is deadname
My body isn't me
My body is deadname
I figured this out yesterday
So I finalized my decision to get top surgery
Only to find out that my insurance matches my peice of **** body
Top surgery isn't covered
Apparently it's cosmetic
You don't have to live in a body that's wrong
It's not my fault I was put in a body with ***** and curves and bumps in all the wrong places
I don't have 5000 dollars because I already had to pay for intensive outpatient therapy that insurance wouldn't cover
What's the point of having insurance if it only costs and doesn't pay