#unacceptance
A pile of mud
moving, re-animated:
you watch a trail of stink
—striking everyone's senses—
I'm leaving behind.
A man of mud walks toward you,
sliding smooth
on the façade of a greasy pavement
coming at you
longing, to solicit
your pity
—my body crumbles
at each step I ****** towards you
while watching myself being torn apart.
I stretch my arm, and then my stiff fingers,
each soaked in tears,
to grab whatever I can out of you.
I disintegrate into emptiness
at every attempt I make
—all futile, meaningless.
My muddied lips
set apart to plead,
but only a screeching noise
comes out,
squeaking,
like that of a mouse.
You,
the one with a shovel
—sharp is the blade—
scream at me,
whacking my clay-man body
with your murderous tool
you hold so tight
—this sight of Mudman
must be hideous indeed
to those pupils of innocence,
burning brightly
with consuming hatred.
Lying on the floor
flattened, unaccepted,
the muddied lips
that survived the shattering blow
are squirming still.
You grind them under your heel
merciless.
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 8:19 PM UTC
I have two things hidden in my closet:
Your birthday gift and my pride flags.
I ran to my room and tore them down from the walls the moment our company has arrived,
Preserving our doll house image.
The natural heterosexuallity I've learned to imitate.
So,
I suppose in a sense,
I have two gifts for you hidden in my closet.
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
Every letter I write will never do
For I am not valid enough for you.
You claim that I am girly,
Which made me quite squirrely.
Your claims of me not being a boy
Are like you throwing me around like a toy.
I am not your possession
And this is my life’s recession.
Death never seemed so cool
Until your sobbing created pools
That you could swim through
With the water so blue.
I can hear your screaming from my room
And I can say that it has created my tomb.
I am boy
Not a toy.
My masculinity is not determined by you
But determined by the question of who.
Who am I?
Am I a guy?
Or am I faking my breath
While you fake your depth?
You say you will love me no matter what
But I’ve put you in a rut.
I’m transgender and you don’t agree,
So does this mean
You can strip me of my identity?
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
Poetry is
life...
passion....
which spills
and explodes
and spews forth...
it can get really messy
imagine the mess inside
when for
years
and years
and years
it doesn't get expressed
and when it
finally
does
you have to look
high
and low
for someone
to
receive it
you see the glazed over eyes
as you speak
your
words
your heart breaks
seeking for
that
knowing
kindred
spirit
and when you find
that
one....
how
fortunate
you
are
!!!!!!
cj
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
The tears streamed from your eyes
Like salty rivers on a quest;
They poured to the ground,
As your secret you confessed.
Your mother held her breath,
Stared at you with kindling, rampant rage;
"You are not a ******* boy,
This is just a phase."
She hides you from me,
Separating us from the intimacy that held us together;
Prevents us from experiencing our love in person,
It is so tender.
The days are passing,
You are hurting inside;
She insults you, blames you,
For being a girl who lies.
The knife inches toward you throat,
Your fingers aching to seal your fate;
But baby, look toward me,
It is never too late.
Hold onto this passion as if it
Is the very water to quench your thirst;
The very food to satiate your appetite,
Fulfill your mirth.
Boy of mine,
Your heart is pure.
Eventually you can slam
In her face the door.
Just hold on,
Take deep breaths;
Self-harm isn't a solution,
Neither is death.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
With even eyes,
She slapped her son across the face.
"What you've told me is disgusting, you're
A disgrace."
The boy rubbed his cheek,
And tears exploded on his face;
He couldn't help being gay.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
I cant tell a lie, not as well as some. Regardless of what words come out, my eyes will be rather lazy when it comes to hiding distress.
What impresses me is jest, you still have not noticed, and for that i owe you. I'll mark the debt in my little check book inside my head, jot it down like the others, put it aside and pretend it tended forth some tangible result.
Now all is overflowing, the pages ripping and crimped. Used up like the excuses we made to sway away rependence, but the only sorries given are the ones saved for ourselves. Poor modern-generation children, they really let us off the hook. Tucked us in to sleep soundly in feather down little beds resting our little heads, crying over little spits we regretfully didn't have the guts to spat. All told to hush up and pretend, fall to slumber and sleep and forget. Refrain,
You'll wake up to morning rain and tell your lies all over again.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
Sitting here trying to make small talk, I'm going insane, we're all insane.
Broken topics over chips and salsa, god its so bizarre, I don't understand how "normal" we all are.
I keep my mouth semi-full so I'm unable to speak, I can't stand myself, **** why am I so weak?
Why does this bother me so? It's like no one even knows,
the truth,
be told it's a mess, I can't stand too much more of this, someone relieve me from this **** before it makes me sick..
All the underlying problems...drink to numb the pain but those same drinks taketh life away.
And I don't mean with death, for life still moves on, but it's broken into pieces and it's better off gone.
Cause one needs it to stay strong and the other knows that lifestyle is wrong:
Substances don't bring you happiness, they don't fix your pain, they ruin relationships and families all the same.
But we sat and we talked, topics in no particular range, and what hurts is seeing how things both have and haven't changed.
The connection is there, but the love has departed; neither hope nor intention to go back and restart it.
And now we're driving away and nothing is said, no mention of the insanity that hides in my head,
No acknowledgement to the tears I watch my own mom fight back..similar to the sick truth the whole situation lacked.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC