Well,

I'm a bastion of something, to someone, I guess,
I just can't understand it.

I explain things all the time
To people with half-minded hearts and half-hearted minds,
Who might mean well but are conditioned
To think of nothing but themselves.

And yet I see myself in other people?

I'm a mercenary for a god I'm just inventing
And nobody will follow me, not yet
Because they're waiting out the seasons.

I'm a different person in a different body at the beginning of each new day,
I can't repeat myself.

I say nothing to my reflection as I morph,
Consistency wasn't a gift handed to me
(Much less, taught).

I'm a caricature of someone,
But yet, I don't know who.

So but what gender are you?

I don't know, the answers to that question hide behind a door that's closed and I can't seem to get it un-stuck.

So please,
Do not come up to me on the street and ask me if I give a ****, because I don't

My soul cannot be owned or bought
And in order to understand me, you need to forget all the binary lessons you've been taught.

So, but what gender are you?
Why don't you come up here and define me? Please, take a shot

Put this nervous, wandering soul back where it belongs - in a box

This OCD means
I scrape at my scalp with this dusty razor
until only raw skin is left.

This depression means
I call on my mother
to re-open old wounds
and spill blood for me.

This anxiety means
I read her old love poems,
scared of whomever received them.

This dysphoria means
I have frequent nightmares
and wake up clutching my head,
making sure
that my hair is still short

and I dream, sometimes
of using a saw
to hack off my *******-

This dopamine means
I feel all of you
and see all of me
like nobody else.