31/12/2022

It’s the last day of the year, and I’ve had one extra depressive episode
because a 21 year old noped out, apparently I’m demiromantic
and have never had a crush
need a strong connection, when it’s there – it’s nothing
to reckon with, had I known
I’d have put more space between us, taken it slower
rather than convincing myself I have control, as it slips

I’m leaving another lover, wretched with stench
I look at their face in old pictures, becoming
afraid at their void expression, beard
they refuse to trim for me
so I daydream and I know
like, I know now, with therapy that

there is no magical himbo to save me,
no delusions about that, no boo, no more
but I also know I deserve some ******* comfort
after the hell, oh the hell
I can’t broach, if I **** it will burst
like a yolk, I’ll be dead by morning, oh and

he’s so beautiful
his eyes on me, his cautious fingers, fear and shudders
makes me feel like my best was not just good enough
my best was fascinating.
I want to tell him about my songs, mixing in studio 1
I wanna duet, and melt,
I want him on his knees at random words, I want
that worship, wanna feel
his piercing on my
everything,
want to give that worship
not just in a word document,
so I daydream, I get to.
I ******* get to if I need it, daydream about
whichever thing will never happen if I need it.

I will not be shamed for surviving
I will not be blinded to an oasis for the chance
it’s a mirage, I need to
get from place to place, boo
What shall I do as I heal? Drink? Drugs? ******* cigarettes?
did you know the internet says I’ll die at 67?
Little more than half now
my life is not shortened by zoning out -
If I want a muse I will have a ******* muse, and he can think
I’m crazy along with the rest of them,
****
if
I
care,  
I want him to come here.
                                    I want to ask him questions, reasonable questions
because I know I would:
                                                          ­             is this an impulsive decision?
have you broken up?
                                                                ­                               how long ago?
are you in therapy?
                                            I am **** demisexual,
                                                  even in my mind,
                                              especially in my mind
Do       you      want      me      or      do       you       want      polyamory?
Because I can be anyone, and I have already been
                                                         an experiment for some guy, ‘fore he  
                                                            gets­ a bi curious, monogamous girl
Because we can grow alongside one another, but not fix
each other
because you need to process
because if you’re with her, she wouldn’t have a reason other than “my boyfriend really wants to” and that is the worst reason for polyamory, and I am not nor have ever been in the business of hurting people with intent (excluding  grade school, ((I’m
sorry, Martina – double sorry you died from
leukemia,) excluding when you c o n s e n t )),  
I’d like you to answer all of those, then
maybe I get to hold you.

That’s my daydream. Holding you. Watching films, you commenting on them the way I’ve done and annoyed all of my lovers.

how your neck would smell

                                      how your hair and head would feel in my hands

how you’d shiver and breathe shallow, and how easily
I could make it calm.  

and yeah, subspacing you and using your body, I am not entirely ace.

they say a child can grow up conditioning themselves
to forget
all the trauma they've experienced;
they say they quite literally push it
to the back of their minds, as a way of coping,
a way to deal with the pain―without actually dealing with it.

it'll all come crashing back, eventually
everyone knows that a dam is a temporary structure,
that eventually the chemicals in the water
will erode the wood and
break it apart

it all comes rushing in
and escapes through blood-shot eyes,
drooling, sobbing coughs and panic-slick wheezes.

i never fully managed to forget my father
though i'm sure there are things i don't remember―
after all, that's an awful lot of hatred
and anger
for only several incidents, and a lifetime of an alcoholic's neglect...
isn't it?

but you―you i managed to block out completely
to the point where i knew the phrase "emotional abuse"
but couldn't quite be sure why i applied it to you;
it was just something i knew
instinctively

how foolish it was for me to break the dam myself,
out of some morbid, masochistic curiosity:
"what did she do? what did she do to me? why?"
and then i remembered

all the sleepless nights spent reading to you,
lulling your insomniac mind (though not as bad as mind)
and soothing the supposed nightmares you had:
nightmares that you, conveniently, only suffered
when i was asleep―and i was hardly ever sleeping

all the memories you blurred between me
and your last boyfriend; all the ways
you made me feel like ****, comparing me
to a **** bag that cheated on you
and then lured you in again with falsities and
repeated apologies. you fell for it every time,
and i had to wonder: why am i not good enough
compared to that?

the way you asked me to watch you in the bath,
whilst you drew on your skin and told me:
"this is what i do to avoid cutting myself"
and i thought:
"i'm still cutting"
but i sacrificed my own stability to ensure your safety

******* martyr, i was
how disgusting to allow myself to be manipulated by you,
even after the hours you left me guessing out of spite
whether or not you'd burned your skin with that lighter
just because i didn't want to spoil your mood with my own

the holiday i spent in my dream city was spoiled
and stained and joyless, as you ****** the soul out of me
by burning images into my mind:
you and him, sharing a bath, looking after his family's kids.
why the **** would you do that to me?
more importantly, why the ****
did i let you? and still love you?

so many more incidents, so many more
broken promises and sick lies;
the way you hid me from your family
and only trusted me not to cheat because i'm demisexual;
you made sure i'd never emotionally connect with anybody else
and find attraction in them,
lest i move on from you and find another

one that wouldn't abuse me
like you did

While I pretty much opined for this impeachment
my fellow Americans voted for this guy and they could be right
I’ve been wrong before, stuck as we are with a system
that generates some perplexful leaders, democracy being the worst form
      of government—
except for all the others.
Anyone can be president, that’s been proven time and time again.
Wars can start for no discernible reason other than
radical purity, avarice, cupidity, gluttony, rapacity, even affluenza—
meanwhile life goes on outside all around you
perhaps you identify as Jewish, Latino, Muslim, Indian or Filipino
asexual, cybersexual, somasexual, hypersexual, homosexual, pentasexual
it doesn’t really matter, nothing **** matter matters, matter
content of life (serious, love it) hate death for the hell of it
to see what it’s like inside the heart of darkness.

Not that I accept their god, their void, I accepted humanity as a natural
      part of nature
demisexual, downsexual, ecosexual, Eurosexual, eversexual, exsexual,
extrasexual, femtosexual, Francosexual, geosexual, gigasexual,
Grecosexual, Indosexual, intersexual, kilosexual, macrosexual,
malsexual, megasexual, metasexual, microsexual, missexual,
medisexual, mocksexual, monosexual, muchsexual, multisexual,
mustsexual, nearsexual, neosexual, nonsexual, oftsexual,
omnisexual, oversexual, pansexual, parasexual, partsexual,
photosexual, polysexual, postsexual, presexual, pseudosexual,
psychosexual, quasisexual, rentasexual, selfsexual, semisexual,
Sinosexual, subsexual, supersexual, telesexual, terrasexual,
ubersexual, ursexual, ultrasexual, undersexual, vicesexual,
weresexual, wikisexual, zoosexual.
When I did that I had to pay the rent and get a job, too.

Confliction,
Deception,
Introspection,
Retrospection,
Contracepti­on,
Reflection,

Who art thou?
Who am I?
Who are you?

Bicurious,
Heterosexual,
Bisexual,
*******,
Demisexual,­
Asexual,
Homosexual,

Alone,
Joined,
Separated,
Unison,
Loneline­ss,
Together,

Rambling,
Scrambling,
Galloping,
Struggling,
Baski­ng,
Scattered,
Are My Thoughts.

I can't
fall
in love
with
someone unless
they're
my friend
first;
I'm a
demisexual.

Let me entirely clear,
As clear as crystal,
As clear as the sky
On a summer's day.

It has come to my attention
That I was a fraud,
Just as you were.

I have recently realized,
It was never you I loved.
It was your potential.
Who you could become.
Who I thought you were.

And now going over it all in my head,
I realized I fell for sweet nothings,
And soft tones,
And ginger touches,
And brash conversations
About politics
Where you were just agreeing
To appease me.

And I am still a firm believer
That you can love someone
Because of their flaws,
Not despite them,
Because that is true love in itself.

But I did not love your flaws.
I feared them. All of them.

And in hindsight
I regret
Confessing my soulmate philosophy.
And explaining the red strings of fate,
And telling you of my synesthesia and demisexuality.

Because my being demisexual made you feel special.
You aren't, by the way.

And you used,
Almost constantly,
My synesthesia against me.
Even when I told you
"It is not an ability,
Nor a power.
I cannot read minds."

I also told you
"It is not a party trick."

And you pressured me into using it for the latter
Due to your selfish desire
To use my as a ploy and a conversation piece,
Among other things.

I never loved you.
No,
I loved who I thought you were.

Because you are not good,
Nor kind,
Nor gentle,
And no where near loyal.

You are selfish
And cruel.

Judgmental glances
And cruel tones,
Harsh words,
And selfish intentions
Made up our relationship.

Your mother wrote
Upon her wall
What love is.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

It was literally written on the wall.

And we weren't any of that for each other.

If they had heard your words,
And if I had seen my own actions,
All would have known from the start
That we were toxic.

So keep fooling the world,
I'm going to be
A better me.

And upon these feelings for a Bluebird
Born under Mercury,
And the light of the star Spica,
I have come to see
The fear I have
For falling for anyone.

But maybe it's a risk
I'll be willing to take,
The closer I get,
The more sure I feel.

Love is love, but what do we see? Something less than equality. We walk around with closed minds, closed hearts, feeling that differences could tear us apart. I, for one, hate what society has pressed upon me. That it's not ok for me to be me. And yet, here I am. I'm still proud. No matter what they say, I won't stand down. I was raised by a rainbow family and now I'm part of the community. I was welcomed by open minds and open hearts, people that knew how to play their part in making me feel comfortable with who I am. This wasn't a choice. I wae born this way. And I wouldn't do it differently. Asexual, pansexual, polysexual, demisexual, bisexual, homosexual, heterosexual. Why does it even matter? Where you are in this list, who you love, shouldn't even matter. And yet, it does. These titles often determine whether or not we can even associate with someone. This just shouldn't be the case. Judgements like these are way below second rate. You should be free to openly love or not love whoever you want. Not go hiding from petty little taunts. Love is a broader scope than most would believe. And why is it the man that's down on one knee? Why is it when the step could be either's, we still encounter the firm believers? The one's who say this is for him or her, who from old traditions will not differ. With each generation, the times are changing, yet the vast majority of society still tries to hold the reins. They create boxes, cage us within ourselves. When what we want is to be able to be held by the ones we love without a price. There shouldn't be a sacrifice. Is it ok for you to love who you do? Are you happy with them or are you blue? If they bring you happiness, then my answer is yes. Stand tall, keep your head up, and be proud of who you are. If you fall, get back up, and remember to reach for the stars. Those who do not believe in the freedom of love are ignorant. I do not appreciate your incompetence. Love is love, and what do we need? A world full of understanding.

being demisexual is like
a soulmate alternate universe
in which my heart connects with just one person at a time
and their name is branded on my skin
and my lips only desire theirs
and nothing matters except them
it is like I can't make myself love anyone else
and I can't look away, I feel like I'm drowning
there is no other device that can keep me afloat because once I'm stuck,
I'm stuck- I cannot keep my obsession at bay
there's nothing I can do about this- my hyper-intelligent mind
gets caught on an idea and repeats and repeats and repeats
and that is all there is-
it is like a cute little alternate universe where true love stays forever
except, well, it's this universe
and more often than not, they don't love me back.

Make believe
I'm a mess
If you so choose
If doing so makes you feel better.

Weightless,
Don't get me started.
There's nothing
That keeps me grounded,
Quite like him.

Down to Earth,
Honey no,
I've got my head in the clouds,
And my feet are running on stars.
(Rewrapping old scars)

And reality doesn't come crashing down,
When I go tumbling back to our atmosphere,
Because my reality
Is in the clear.

'Cause it's not like
I regret my choices
That lead me to here.
Whether it's left me with scars or fear,
I would say
I turned out okay.

Listen up,
If you would find it pleasing to hear,
Or even if not.
I'm a pistol
With the safety on.

My smile melts
The ligaments in your knees,
And my knuckles are scarred
From fights with things that also bleed,
So you're no different,
In all honesty.

But he kisses me
And it leaves me breathless,
And suddenly the violence,
And swift movement
Of the fight
And grace on my feet
Comes crashing down,
I'm burning in the atmosphere.

I'm left as a
Fragile thing,
A bird with buzzing wings.

Dust off scorched skin
And soot covered feathers,
I'm stained in ash
And the pale raised skin
Of scars I probably somehow deserved.

Who I used to be,
And who I am now
Are no longer the same.

I used to fight to survive,
In more ways than one
And today I have to bite my lip to keep
From smiling
At seemingly nothing.

And I kept trying
To keep flying back to the stars,
And I kept getting burned,
But I don't need heavenly bodies,
No,
I needed another bird to fly with.

Scramble the iridescent reds and purples,
With the greens and yellows,
Fluttering and flying,
I'll fly with him,
My Bluebird.

At peace with a life,
I never intended to live.
I never intended anything
Until now.

I fully intend
On sticking around
And staying with him
For as long
As he'll have me.

And I'll fight like the hell I've seen
To stay longer.
Giving up is for cowardly children,
They throw away what's broken
In order to get a new one.
Breaking it further so no one judges them
For throwing it away.

I am no child,
And I am now coward.

I want a life with my Bluebird.
And **** it all to hell
If I let petty displays of power
Rip that from my hands.

So let me inform you, kindly,
Of my intentions.

As a demisexual synesthete who writes too much and pays attention too little, I fully intend on staying here, hand in hand, wing by wing, with the bird that taught me (most likely subconsciously) that falling in love is the wrong way to do it. Fly, don't fall. All it takes is enough determination and desire to keep going in efforts for a life with another.