i am sitting in a building i wish was on fire
me sitting still trapped inside it
not wishing for anyone to find me just
hoping i pass out before my insides start boiling

i am in class with a man i hope would choke
eyes locked with mine
i don’t want him to die just understand
what the vice these assignments have around me

when drawing with silver that paints your skin red
proper preparation prevents poor performance

barn doors broken from where the wind once bashed,

there used to be love and light and life pouring from those doors.

locked inside the stalls next to sunken straw,

there were ideas and innocence untouched by outside forces.

the red is weathered and the white peeling but

behind those paint fractures lies a life to be remembered.

one call is all it takes for catastrophe to come crashing through,

bashing and breaking the last vestiges of hope held inside a heart.

just one final click and a walk to a barn boarded up and beloved.

its life never to be lived again,

its laughter drowned out by dread,

its love held inside by broken doors and aging boards,

but the light kept inside it continues to shine through the night.

creeping between cracks of paint and climbing through piled up straw.

it stays lit in its remembrance.

To transition is to attend your own funeral time and time again in hopes of allowing yourself the delicacy of being truly known
Identity becomes a public affair and day to day life reads like a eulogy
Imagine you are the corpse, the coffin, and the church your body rests in
You haven't lost yourself just, killed that version and put her inside a box for only her dearly beloved to see
You now become the house in which they’re prepping her body for eternal sleep
You are the final destination
The one stop shop for little girls who become boys overnight
I became him over night and the next morning i wrote her eulogy
Its been almost five years since girl became boy and i am still giving her eulogy
I am speaking of a little girl to people that only know the grown man she died to be and i am so incredibly tired of doing so
I see family and the remnants of the little girl i was believed to be and i am forced to take part in their mourning
Every day feels like the day after you lose someone you loved
There are bits and pieces of her around my house, and my mind, and even my body but she is gone
She has been gone for almost five years and i am still attending her funeral
There is no longer a corpse, coffin, and church just a man her memories rest in
I am the man her memories rest in yet i put her to rest long ago
I need the world to do the same, for my dearly beloved to do the same
For we are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of a daughter, a sister, or niece
We are here to celebrate the gaining of a son, a brother, and a nephew
I am celebrating the birth of me and giving her eulogy in the same breath and i am tired of doing so
See i am left carrying the grief of a person who still exists
I exist
Changed but still present, still breathing
There never was a corpse, a coffin, or a church
There was only ever me, my body, and the world around me

there’s a rush of something to my mind that drags it’s calming palms down the back of my brain.
now i can hear the rushing of blood in and out of my aorta warming up on my cardiovascular walls.
this is what summer suns leaving final kisses to foreheads before a cool moonlight makes way.
something kind of like end of autumn when leaves transition to dust and dusk feels like the first brushes of winter winds.
i am dragging cool, calm, collected, metal across
hot, heavy, hesitant flesh and i feel
nothing until blood starts pumping and then i feel
this unabashed bliss and this unbearable shame.
it’s akin to knowing without having the knowledge the way i crave a humiliating high.

i keep watching my head get blown off in living color
sitting on a bench in 42 degree weather and across the platform there’s me
head firmly attached to neck
neck firmly attached to shoulders
and a resounding boom.
the train rushes by and i’m gone and back on this side of the platform there’s me
head firmly attached to neck
neck fully attached to shoulders
and a ring building in my ears.
i keep watching my head get blown off in black white
in the middle of the night and under the covers
i am shaking
head attached to neck
and neck to shoulder but i am shaking because
i keep watching my head get blown off

life gets clear when the wind gets cold
it’s biting really
nipping at every nose and
noise and noose maybe
i’m attracting an autumn depression maybe
maybe heart misses home tonight
it’s two in the morning and
i’m not asleep and
the seasons are shifting so
the fan is unplugged and unused and
my thoughts are weighted and worthless