When you told me I was doing great for a woman my size, I passed you off and told myself that "compliment" had good intentions.
When you called me sweet cheeks I ignored you. A woman like me is used to men like you.
When you told me the stair master made my *** look bangin, I was both honored and appalled.  My *** may be my greatest feature but ****** comments have their place and the gym is not one of them.
When you asked me for my number, you were rude, acting in a way in which no gentleman should act. I told you no. And I meant no.
When you called me a ***** loud enough for the whole gym to hear, you were only making yourself look bad.
When you came up and wrapped your arm around my shoulder and told me you were going to take me out for a good time on friday night, I was terrified and suddenly praying for a **** whistle.
When you insisted I promptly informed you I was lesbian, and to let you down gently, not my type.
When you called me a **** I took no offense, that word has become meaningless. Then you told me it must be a phase, that I just hadn't been with a man like you. That you could change me.
When you said "hop on this **** ****" I was done with your games. I pushed you aside and when you ****** my shoulder back you were the one to end up with their *** on the ground.
Dear namless man at the gym,
When you said you could help me through my phase, you were wrong. Being gay is not my phase. Being straight was.

Love is like a disease it spreads.
Hatred is an itch when you keep
Scratching it. It Fester an kills you.

When i think about the things I've said.
Feelings I felt. I melt inside.
It turns my in sides out.
My heart combust
An I hate myself.
Why are I not enough.
Denial will have you walk for miles.
Sorrow is a sweet after taste of a sucker punch of truth.
Loneliness is only a symptom.
An that to will pass.


I am a enigma of feeling. I cry when the rain falls to hard. When the wind blows in the wrong directions. I'm poetic. I'm also a stepping stone. The men I've let erase my soul an rewrite my blueprint. The salty tears I cry are almost symbiotic. Another symptom. Like a sonnet short an sweet. Running in a circle walking a fine line. Waiting to leap. Is it a crime to work 9 to 9. Roller coaster emotinal train wreck. An I think to myself who will love me.



I bare myself to the pit an it asks me if I'll jump. I reply not today. Slumped down I step closer to the edge. I reenact self destructive behaviors daily. Am I considered an addict. I seek validation from namless phantoms. I named them my self conscious. Are you listening my beating heart gets louder. I order cream an chowder. Sips slow on estacy. Love an lust sleep next to me. I'm smothered in one while I'm blocked to the other. Exits are closed off I think where is my mother.  I shudder remembering I'm alone.

i see no ense in winning, as all success becomes regression,
owning ones life is to reach out and grasp and to catch only the wind.
strange, it is cars that bring faceless names and namless faces
closer to their finale in life than to where really we want to be
we hold a wheel, we push a pedal, it makes no difference.
inside ourselves we may be Lords, Kings even Gods and
here you see me in the world, on the half deserted streets
conjuring myths of control, no apparent ceiling to clothe my limits

no surprises with no mystery. no questions with no unpredictable answers, what a way to live.

safety rules this day, caution covertly dictates my speech,
the fear that I may stumble upon my dreams and realise them unfulfilled
takes my feet and nails them down.

i am a tree, rooted heavily into this soil
here I stand and weep for all that is stained with routine.
all that is tragically familiar comes forth alone and alone it remains with me.