It's 3:09am
I'm im the library
Desperately trying to write a research paper:
'LGBT Familes'
How fitting.
Caffeine courses through my veins
Coffee overloads my bladder
Bathroom.
I hate bathrooms.

When you have no gender
The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore
The heavy weight of that key decision
Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors
Two doors.
Men.
Women.
Not me.

The choice becomes simplified:
While I sometimes pass as a man
I often do not.
I can choose the men's bathroom
The consequence of which could end in physical violence
The same hate I explain through my essay.
The same fear that plagues my community.

The women's restroom is also an option
The consequences likely less dire than the former:
Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling.
A much safer choice.
Obviously.

Per usual, I walk into the women's room.
I take three strides inside.
Then I stop.

I've never used the men's room.
My fear of violent reactions has always won.
Yet at a time like this
How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room?

Now is my chance to face my fears.
Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace.
In a bathroom potentially more suiting
Of my gender identity
So I turn around.
Let the door slam behind me.

Half a step into the men's room
The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses
Toilet paper liters the stalls
I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room

Women have nicer facilities
A significantly more advanced hand dryer
Cleanliness
Air freshener
Men do not have these luxuries

Now I question,
Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do?
Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation?
What causes this undeniable divide?
Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions?
Or simply a response to societal expectation?

Regardless,
I think I'll stick to the women's room
While I add bathrooms to my compilation
Of more discrete gender inequality

The electricity
vibrates
between them,
creating overloads,
surges of energy,
releasing tensions
in maximum-abundance.

O boy, fiber optic
feels really great,
it seems so brilliant,
love at our fingertips!

But what if,
what if,
I want to
wet my whistle,
taste her
daintily,
paint her
town white,
feel her
heartbeat for real?

Guess, they're the
million dollar questions
that computers
cannot answer
that make us so poor,
so frustrated in cyber-love!

alight a path of excited neurons
saved by corporeal fuses
sacrificed fried to save
my head from overloads all the
amperage storing up
Danger High Voltage!!!

flows inside from too much reality.

I need your alternating current
to mediate my DC.
To my Tesla, like, you are , Miss Whitman.
To your Edison I am but one spark of Voltaire.

You sing of electric bodies ten million volts.
I imitate Voltaire as he did Virgil.
If someday we should unite,
our sparks would alight on eternity.

A cozy blanket of numbness is what I seek
Far away from people and their faux complexities
Their insistence on infecting you with vile opinions
I need to distance myself away from the poison that is humanity
To have the ability of seeing their petty emotions
Through a pair of binoculars
I tire from episodes consisting of synaptic overloads
Decompress, readdress, and be free of stress
I desire the chance to finally say that
I just don't give a ****!

She comes only on the darkest of nights,
an alluring songstress of sleep.
She dances in the dreams and fantasies of many,
the cost of her seduction is steep.

She can steal the hearts of the most loyal men,
tempt any woman's desire.
She creates a sensuous paradise of lust,
beware the consequences are dire.

Many a soul have been lost to her charm,
led easily into the moonlight.
Enticed by the sway of her hips as she twirls,
a captivating show of sultry delight.

She's an insatiable spirit of shameless passion,
her words are provocative lies.
For when she lures you into her arms,
you become a star in her sky.

She draws you away from your loved ones on Earth,
her smile overloads your every nerve.
Yet you are forced to watch over the ones you have left,
a fate you do not deserve.

There is no way to fight her embrace,
no magic spell or plea.
You'll find yourself yearning for when she takes your hand,
and whispers "Come away with me".

She'll gaze upon her glittering conquests,
with an experienced collector's eye.
She'll laugh and dance among her trophies,
naught they can do but cry.

So when you happen upon a shooting star,
racing across the sky.
Know that it is not a star; merely stardust,
a tear escaping a captured eye.

I find myself adrift upon a sea of faceless names
and nameless faces flowing
in a wave of information
that erodes and overloads my poor old mind.

Drift far enough and long enough the sea all looks the same;
the hard edge of horizon flat-lined
out before my sun-strained eyes
and not a port or harbor can I find.

I hope to throw my anchor down
upon some distant shore,
but I won't know till I get there
that I will not have to travel any more.

A mile or so to starboard there's a sailor lost as you;
another heading for the sunset
with a full wind hard abeam
and that's what folks mistakenly call free.

She's called six ways from Sunday and forever passing through.
There is no freedom to be had -
just set an open course for home
or some reasonable facsimile.

I hope to throw my anchor down
upon some distant shore,
but I won't know till I get there
that I will not have to travel any more.

The static speaks my name and it's driving me insane,
the night's stars are it's eyes and I watch it right back.
Shadows cast on the blame, but still lighting up the pain,
I'm covered up under the skies with a veil pitch black.

The silence overloads my brain, and each thought's wasted in vain,
with a million possibilities that will never occur.
I am shackled with a moral chain, but it supports me to refrain
from a sense of humility that I can't ever deter.

I find each locked door more outrageous,
and I'm left like before, wondering if I'm contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
of putting a gun straight to my head?

The static speaks my name with pronunciation it can't obtain,
if white noise could stutter it'd probably have quite the drawl.
Questioning if I should feel shame, if I'm a painting or a stain,
or just a curse you mutter like graffiti on the bathroom stall.

I find it all dizzying and real dangerous,
I'm wondering if my misery is contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
when they could just leave me in my bed?

The static shrieks,
the floorboard creaks,
the river's dry but the faucet leaks.
The static shrieks,
years came from weeks,
I live in quiet, only silence speaks.

I plan my life in different stages,
I wonder if my strife is contagious.
Why would you comfort me instead,
of letting me follow the path you led?

Why would I ever venture to guess
That you would be willing to meet me halfway?
My empty attempts are wasted endeavors
I give it my best shot
In pursuit of mutual presence
A hesitant undertaking that
Solicits the same solidarity I strive to stifle
I know I'm a hindering burden that
Overloads you like a snow covered tree
Still clinging on to its leaves
Never letting them go until they're
Weighed down and overloaded
A strain crack break
Brings it down in a thunderous sound
To handshake the ground
I am a huge hassle that hugs his hostile self
Grabbing his own handful heart
Holding it in the air as a sign to declare
Sorry for the inconvenience
I've been rocked goodbye
The wind didn't blow
It was snow that broke me
The bow never budged
It was the entire tree that plummeted
A swift fall to bring my cradle and all
Crashing so you no longer have to sit

I ve banned tec from our table
Tec is the terrorist in town
I ve banned tec from the bedroom
Tec is numbing us
Interacting is not cool
Interfacing is what's happening
I neck the new illness
Talking face to face
Is old school
Back in the day
When hanging out on walls
At the phone box
Now people go no where
Snap chatting what's it app app app
Instasham
Face ache
Phwww
It's all too much for me
Overloads pointless
tec is taking over

Fridays, fridays, getting there
winds with their fulminations full forced
an array of a slow crawl and taunting sun
just want to go flex

glazing the mind, to downcast to longing
stepping over cracks on morning roads
past neighbor’s verandahs - filled with
sensory overloads

I look back
Nothing

Concepts orbiting in an isolated space
The empty air smells like uncertainty
Droning like distant dissonant shouts from outer space
A train of meaningless code flows life-likely
Through a pit in my stomach
The darkest black hole is an orb made of heaviest matter possible
Condensed and concentrated nothingness
It's track is not set on a straight line
Neither is it blurry
It's thin and wiggly
It's cut to a thousand pieces
Scattered through time and space
And I have built an empire upon it called life
And I know it will crumble under its own weight
Spires
Spikes of life called memories soar high on a brittle foundation
And at the core
Overloads and explodes
A single node
Overthinking and overheating until it blows
Functions recursively until it breaks
Nothing flows

I look back
Still nothing

Day 21.
Cant even look at myself in the mirror. Not after wat I've done. I look gruff from the unshaven beard, the dirt noticeable a mile away. I pass by the fancy restaurants, reminisce on the lyf I used 2 hv. The streets I used 2 rule, now am but a sore, a blemish on the beautiful face that is lyf.
Day 22.
Too many days without seeing u,
I rummage thru the trash, searchin for valuable scraps of food.
Vivid images of the horror haunt my mind.
Constant reminder of wat I am, wat I've become, wat I wz.
Day 23.
Resolve on my mind.
I need 2 confront you.
Salvage the remainder of my soul, right the wrongs.
Tonight I camp at your door.
Day 24.
Not a sight of emotion from your face.
Pure indifference.
Cant say am suprised.
I'm scared.
I'm losing my mind.
The sight of u overloads my senses.
Guilt in my eyes, ice in urs.
Am sry I say.
But its too late.
One word wont erase the hate, the disgust u hv for me.
Put me out of my misery, I beg.
Hv ur revenge.
Take me 2 that dark place.
Six feet under.

I'm so good with words
Essays, presentations, and speeches
I can craft a sonnet and sell a watch
But when I see you
In all your blonde haired glory
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth like peanut butter
My heart pounds
As if you've put the bass on high
And those words, those beautiful words
That flowed like the water of Niagara falls
When it came to 5-7-5 and 4 score and seven years ago
Dry up.
My mind overloads with whether
I should spout out the first thing that comes to mind
Or try and catch you with my charm
But it doesn't matter because my mouth won't respond
Not until hours later when i'm home alone, and kicking myself for not saying a word
Then finally the dam bursts
And I know just what to say
I feel my lips move
They say hi, you're beautiful
And I love you
Words to woo a woman's heart
I'm so good with words
Essays, presentations and speeches

But not when it counts

I was told there's a difference
between embarrassment and shame,
and that if embarrassment let exist
without treatment, without care;
it soon swells into a pestering hornet's nest.
humming violently in the back of your head.
It feeds off of instinctual fear
and it sets your skin aflame.

I feel as if I'm being melted alive
and there's no way out.
I can't even find the escape route
to take a moment and see outside of this issue.
The fear of rejection overloads my system
and all at once, memories of childhood rejection
flood like a tidal wave,
wracking my core.

I'll play it off as a joke,
I'll get the option back, maybe,
But I fear everyone will look at me differently.
It's true that when I'm pushing 30,
I won't cast a second glance back at this very moment.
But everyone tells me to focus on there "here-and-now",
and I have no choice but to wallow in the existential dread
and overwhelming fear
of everyone being mad at me, being disgusted by me.
I want out.

Treading eyes
Afloat from a pool of liquor
As the liver overloads.
A hand
Around a red cusp traces mine,
Clocking hearts in for overtime.
The burning of a
Gaze overtaking
The cherry suns,
Warming inhibition.
So on occasions rare
It only takes two eyes to see what thirty cannot.
Eyes locking lashes
Lassoing souls together.
Two bodies bow tied to one.
Stitching fingers to perfection
With hands
Creating a cocoon around her chest.
Waiting for her wings to grow.

Acsending high in the friendly skies
Yet my mind lies in what lies within the inner sanctum
That scream of praise and devastation coitally in your inner thighs

Mornings of wonder and blissful thoughts
Midnights filled with ice cream and talks
Ice Cold...yet our emotions melted and were caught

Like Kobain my brain overloads with what could be
Lines of ******* running to a no end marathon
Of love, lust, and similes

Why can't I shake this feeling
Blended so eloquently with a hint of fresh mint
But the acacia grows perpendicular with right angles of symmetry

Late nights and early mornings like ambrosia you sing...
Wrapped in a lyrical yet detrimental feeling of what could...no...what can be...

I dream of whimsical phalicies and fantasies of you with me
Wrapped so taut around my mind and waist i can't concede...so evocative...a little provocative...

Midnight Mornings greet the sun and the moon
Oh ****....too soon...I zoom...with Commodores like Lionel Richie...

Can't hide the horror.
Your opinion of me weighs less than sunlight.
You are not the shaper of things.
Stale wind & ash.
It is beyond you.
Something is broke inside you.
How am I to function with such limitations?
I do not bend to your will.
Change is constant yet things stay the same.
Together?  Yes together.
Is this what grief looks like?
I don't like where this is going or has been.
The time line is stitched back together out of sequence.
Drain the energy from you safely.
"Serve no master but your own ambition".
It was a failure.
Your all that's left.
Fighting to hold on to what you were is destroying you.
The weakness of your species.
Touch me & die vermin.
Everything is different.
A self destructing time bomb.
Overloads & explodes.
Stuck in time.
Fear the night.
No harm no foul.
May or may not be evil.

Sound...........
Echo. . . .
Morning begins in a small town..  
Purple skies, mixed in with sunset orange prisms..
Light refractions and the dream's wisdom...

Vision.........
Sight. . . .
Noon passes by under dream skies twilight..
Memories add life to ghost of old friends..
Sound reverberation travels and transcends..

Touch........
Sway. . . .
Evening melodies through end verse of day..
I'm running back to lustless reality..
Somatosensory system overloads dream tranquility..

pandering to the lowest common
the red headed ******* brays into the void
faceless masses screech back from the darkness
begging to be fed again, shown light
offered dignity…but this day has not come
instead
the beast feasts on those least able to protect themselves
the laughter follows… --
pretentious preacher gargles wine
claiming the blood of Christ flows within him too
favored and chosen by god, we must obey whatever tomfoolery
this sociopath lays at our ingrown toenails
dried skin flakes away in the warm breeze
as displeased fleas flee the scene
no longer able to **** the impoverished blood
their hunger turns
refocusing
looking to those in power
and them which control wealth gap policy –
reptilian overloads bathe in the blood of Amber alert victims
drinking deep discontent and discord
while spreading disease through dog spit
…… my how the Americans love to give their puppies kisses on the mouth
The greatest nation pays tribute to the false image of evil incarnate
Some give this face to Obama,
others see it in the smile of Donald Trump, me,
I see it in the eyes of the apathetic child
too worried about the new call of duty game
to care if a flag means slavery
or black people are disproportionately shot by cops
to quantify, at my age, anyone under 25 is a child
sorry, youngin…  --
witnessing women liberate themselves so extremely
as to have ***** grown in laboratories
I hope unicorn women are in our future,
with big floppy black *****
surgically attached to their foreheads
this idea will certainly get them through that glass ceiling
as no one will stand in the way
for fear of being thrusted upon
by the new secretary …….
……….
Did I have a point? –

Everyone’s hiding
A dreadful past
A broken self
Behind a smile
Behind a wall

Everyone’s pretending
To be fine
To be happy
To be normal
And that they're not
Dying
Screaming
Begging
Inside

Everyone
Cries
Everyone
Goes insane
Everyone
Gets sad
Everyone
Has overloads
Everyone
Is in some way
Alone

Some
May just be wishful thinking

All these words
Sound so cliché
Ironically
When normal is pretty much
The exact opposite
It makes me wonder
What's the point
Of all this
And yet again
We just
Can't
Stop

No matter
What

I'm a girl with a broken heart

I'm nothing much

I remain

Scars are gone

Cuts have healed

Tears have dried

Loneliness is consuming me

Feeling trapped

I need to escape

Pain is suffocating

Sorrow overloads me

No one has ever undestood

I am nothing

I'm abandoned

Leftovers to the evil

Not good enough to keep but good enough to use.

If ever there is a light in the distance, the moment it begins to warm me the circuit overloads and explodes in the distance.  
Just close enough for me to know something drastic has happened but far enough to be confused as to the specifics of what happened.
And I am left alone in the darkness.

Please forsake me for I have sinned,
Singe'd the rustic metal with sterile flame,
Blood burnt off the edge,while iron waft the air
In my right hand holds danger, in my left nothing
Nothing but the sadness in what I see,
Metal to slice, forever marking me...
Blood trails run down my wicked wrist
Slowly moving..... The everlasting drip
Deathening feels fatally turn me pale
Pestering me to return my scale,.....
Set me apart from the rest,...

They judge me not for me
But for what I've become
Beseech thee as I make my cup
Cuffing my leg to a chain and ball,
As I huff either, the everlasting high,
Hurting me, only to mess with me
Melting my kidney, kindling the fumes that
Set me apart from the rest,...

Lift me like love lifts life,
Leave me behind in this past to which I write,
Repeat your ways which welp you
Yell at me for I have done you wrong
Writhe the dividend to which I owe
Give me love, give me life
Leave me behind so that I kindle my time
Tell me I'm not bliss,
I forever hold my dagger with a sharp grip,
Give me power, give me strength
Stealthfully **** the hype,
hypocrisy heathes these hollow halls,
Set me apart from the rest,...

Watch as I cut these lines,
White as snow, it overloads the mind
Mind the razor ripping apart the rocks,
For blood shows when blood clots,
Cliche to say but those lines had been cut,
With that precious liquid gold...... Either.....
It burns, the feeling ever so old......
Judge me not for the bad I have done
Look at me in that finer light.....
Set me apart from the rest,...

It started with an S. Humbly mumbling yes no maybe i dont know oh **** vertigo should i let go. my brain was blasted, a cocktail of chemicals and superfluidious ether. The push pull ying yang fung shui grabs the heat seeking missle and grabs the brain, attracts sychronized vertacies but the magnitism flips as imaginary consequence givesway to repulsion of the imaginary sense. Pulsars pulsating sending shock waves through space time highways a terrible silence is heard then music then woah. Gravity wells staring me down warping and warming WARNING particle collision is immenent a stellar nurersy might be born of this hyperspace supernova scintilating energies might synchronize for the bonding of bodies creating a binary star system carefully dancing and explosivly romancing or it could be too much the system overloads entropy wins hot matter turned cold a black hole is formed.

Complicated intracacies to be sure. I think a caphonany was born if only i could phrophasize and figure out where my head flipped out and if there would be any imminent fallout. Wise to withhold or a missed chance to experience an amazing incredible moment where time and space may have seperated and two bodies joined in between the seams. Just amazing.

It started with an S. Humbly mumbling yes no maybe i dont know oh **** vertigo should i let go. my brain was blasted, a cocktail of chemicals and superfluidious ether. The push pull ying yang fung shui grabs the heat seeking missle and grabs the brain, attracts sychronized vertacies but the magnitism flips as imaginary consequence givesway to repulsion of the imaginary sense. Pulsars pulsating sending shock waves through space time highways a terrible silence is heard then music then woah. Gravity wells staring me down warping and warming WARNING particle collision is immenent a stellar nurersy might be born of this hyperspace supernova scintiling energies might synchronize for the bonding of bodies creating a binary star system carefully dancing and explosivly romancing or it could be too much the system overloads entropy wins hot matter turned cold a black hole is formed.

Complicated intracacies to be sure. I think a caphonany was born if only i could phrophasize and figure out where my head flipped out and if there would be any immient fallout. Wise to withhold or a missed chance to experience an amazing incredible moment where time and space may have seperated and two bodies joined in between the seams. Just amazing.

Your darkest fears
A life of regrets
A story of tears
Time never forgets

Daylight for another
While you're still dark
Emotions smother
You missed the mark

And this world turns
While desire spins
Humanity yearns
But only chance wins

Violently mixed
Beaten by life
Utterly vexed
Cut with a knife

Screaming in quiet
Grasping unknowns
Needfully silent 
Graves full of bones

Wasted by the way
Deserted roads
What can we say?
Life’s overloads

And can we make it?
Those who have lost
Ever admitting
Such a great cost

I don’t know for sure
But please still try
For hope is the cure
Before we die

2-13-18 by Kirke Wise – Darkest Fears

And so often it is with the life that you were given. In recognition of actual reality or perhaps being able to accept things as they are. This is about life's disparity. Things which I imagine that some of you may perceive in your own life. It’s about clarity. We all have one very short time to live here. So embrace it. Correct it or fix it if need be. Don’t spend your time thinking about others which may seem unbroken. Think about yourself. Because it is the short life that was given to you. Make the most of it. Just something to think about. ~ Kirke

the  only sensation
more satisfying
than scratching an itch
that you just can't ignore
is the euphoria
which overloads
an insignificant little mosquito's miniscule brain
as it ***** that precious drop of blood from your insignificant veins

Whirring spinning constantly working flinging rando retarding  constable to beat the **** out of my  medulla oblongata Oh my god i gatta get it all on paper before the pressure overloads and blows my ******* brains out my ears