#idenity
Who am i?
Im not a person
Nor a dream
Im a specimen
Stuck in a humans body
Im a list of boxes to tick
A label
But im not
Im gay
And
Disabled
And weird
End of.
But am i ?
I mean im weird
Yes
Disabled
Yes
But gay?
Trans?
Queer?
Am i…
Goth?
Grunge?
Emo?
Am i…
Loving?
Evil?
Caring?
Am I secretly the bad guy?
The hero?
The misunderstood?
Who am i?
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC
“ One day i am going to grow wings “-
A trend
From a radiohead song
"What is you wings?
Success?
death?
Freedom?"
Identity
I want to be myself
To live as me
To find who i am
To kiss the sky before i fall
Knowing I am the one who kissed the clouds
Whos wings melted like icarus
Who fell with a smile
With hope
And acceptance
Identity
The impossible answer
To who i am
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 4:16 AM UTC
I lay on the bedroom floor, looking at the sky.
The blue filled sky with dandelions and hope.
The white petals cover the sky, as the yellow pistil covers my room with its golden pollen.
The pollen shines through the paper thin curtains,
that take the form of a star.
Star silhouette that reminds me of the one above Bethlehem,
the Nordic star that was to guide people to its saviour.
It gets me to wonder.
Am I shouting loud enough?
Am I shouting loud enough
for the petals to wither away and make gray the new blue?
Loud enough for the star
that was supposed to guide me through the misty paths with muddy pits that drown adventurous,
to lower its rays so they are no longer able to cut the surroundings with guilt?
Every ray of pollen that hits the windows and grass,
cuts right thru the paper thin curtains which reveal the dirt and dust the room is left in.
No matter the effort.
No matter the hope.
No matter the screams.
The dirt stays there.
It stays right where it’s left.
Time moves, places stay.
The star formed pollen shines through the paper revealing all its secret.
Wishes and screams it held inside,
Now being poured out onto the wall
in shapes and figures that tell
decades of stories,
decades of history,
decades of dirt.
Suddenly everything falls silent. Everything except the stories the curtains hold.
They whisper and talk,
cry and whimper,
shout and beg.
Everything happens so quietly that it is impossible to notice,
so quietly that even a snail that carries its whole world
would make a bigger disturbance.
The only thing that reveals the tragic game of monopoly and irony of music,
is the paper thin curtains that keep shouting and begging,
but still overpowered by the world around.
Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 3:36 PM UTC
There once was a plain old greedy degenerate
Who fancied himself some sort of profit
Most of the town's folk even bought it
Some say he lost it
We must laugh together at the irony we see
Someone degenerate as he
Redesigning our humanity
First conceptual sold as a divine product
******* ecstasy…
I won't support the scandal to fund the living Dead council
The Swine
Thought to unwind and rewind in the way they felt fine
Thus genetically designed a millennia of succession of clergy kings
And unleash them to father all mankind to be
Hear me when I say
I do not feel okay
When malice men metal with God's work
Got a hell of a good pitch though
I mean you really make that **** looked **** no?
A well-designed slaughterhouse may have its livestock walking into spirals right to the mouth of the grinder
Scientifically each breed more perfect than the next
As I deflect
Do my very best
To warn just in case you could respect
Liberty and freedom
Or obey to choose to sleep comfortably
Happy sheep healthy cut of meat
Splash, shear and then repeat
I love you So much
Almost as much as I love myself
Hope you can learn how to be alone with just yourself all by yourself
and be present with yourself Love
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
AM I told what to think? Without gaining knowledge on how to think.
AM I taught how to feel? without understanding why I feel.
AM I raised in what to believe? Not given the freedom in what I want to believe.
AM I told what to be? Without allowing to simply be.
To know thy self is to gain understanding and knowledge of self. That is to individually and authentically find who I am and what my purpose is .
How do I gain knowledge on what I retain in my mind including: subconsciously and consciously
and how do I learn to understand my emotions, feelings and hear the purpose of my soul
physiological identity crisis in me is so surreal that I do not how to be real
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Where are the grass stains I must obtain on my white t-shirt to establish my wiliness to “get *****
Where are the ****** urges I must purge with ****** lewd, and snide jokes of the opposite sex? Where is the confidence I must amplify with impulsivity so reason is kept captive somewhere, hidden from consciousness?
Where is my preordained disposition in giving commands to ones not fit for a position of authority?
Where is my masculinity?
Where are the words, long in lettering, that captivate not the attention of comprehension but of curiosity amongst others?
Where are the capabilities of manipulating numbers in a way one performs faster than the standard calculating machine?
Where are the messages I must retain once I completed the reading of a book?
Where is my Intellectuality?
Where is my sense of correlation of colors and patterns, of fabrics, of style?
Where is my aversion to the concept of bruising one’s body for rough play tends to direct in that direction?
Where is the decibel of higher vocals?
Where are the strides taken with more movement ‘round the hips?
Where is my homosexuality?
Where is my ability to manage my tongue in that it is capable of switching spoken words to fit them who cannot understand?
Where my culinary skills in creating edible sources of energy that are saturated in spice and colors?
Where is my Latinity?
Where are my products of raw originality?
Where are my thought provoking notions held together by a commonality: my mind?
Where are my blueprints, harboring designs for the business I have yet to construct?
Where is my Americanity?
Answer:
Snitched into my fabric,
Welded and wrought into my frame,
Liquefied and pressurized
Revised and ratified
Into me.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC