Warning* This is not a poem, by any stretch of the means, if you don't want to read a story then skip over this.  If you are against any part of the LGBT+ community, skip over this!! If you would like to read this then keep on reading and thank you very much

       Coming out is terrifying.  Figuring yourself out in the first place is absolutely scary, but then telling everyone what you've figured out is even scarier.  Here is my story.
      My story starts in the 4th grade.  I remember I would be at choir concerts and I would be in the audience watching with my family, and I would be staring at the girls.  Because they had such pretty dresses, and gorgeous makeup, and long flawless hair. And I would pay no attention to the boys, because the boys aren't pretty like the girls are, they aren't pretty at all to me.  Then suddenly I noticed that, and then I remembered all the girls in my class talking about how cute Johnnie is and I sort of connected that I thought Sally was a lot cuter than Johnnie or any other boy in my class was.  
      Then I remember going home and sitting in my room and being determined to figure this out, because this is weird.  I've never heard of a girl liking a girl! That happens?!?! If this is real then why haven't Mom or Dad said anything?  So I sat down in my room and I got a black, blue, and pink marker and a piece of paper.  On one side of the paper I drew a boy in blue and on the other I drew a girl in pink.  In the middle I put the word or.  But I didn't know which side to circle, so I folded up the paper and hid in between my closet door because it was open but you could put stuff in between the doors without anyone seeing it. In a month I found the paper again, and this time I knew which one I was attracted to.  So I grab my black marker and I circle the girl.  
      I don't really remember how much longer after the paper incident that this next event happened, but I know it was 4th-5th grade somewhere in there.  I had my best friend over, I think it was for a sleepover. We're gonna call her Ally. But I remember me and Ally were just hangin out in my room.  I look over at Ally and say 'Hey, Ally I gotta tell you something' and she's waiting for me to respond.  So I say 'I think I like girls.' That's all I say, nothing more.  Ally goes off repeating that it's wrong and that it's not right and that I have to like boys otherwise something is wrong with me, and is just going on and on when I just jump up and say 'JUST KIDDING, it was just a joke calm down'.  Then we just laugh it off and then she makes the comment 'if you did like girls i'd be okay with it, but i wouldn't be as close to you because i'm a girl too'. That really hurt me, which caused me to internalize all of my questioning thoughts and try my hardest to forget about them.
        Now it is middle school, during middle school I dated 3 boys.  We are going to call them Jona, Chris, and Lucas. I dated Jona for 15 months and our "relationship" was more like a friendship with fancier terms.  I'm buddies with Jona now so it's all good.  Chris didn't last long so that doesn't really matter.  Lucas!!!! I dated Lucas for 6 months and during this time I realized that I really was attracted to girls and I couldn't keep hiding it.  I realized this because Lucas was my first kiss and I was not into it AT ALL!!! I just wasn't, I tried i really did.  But I just was never much into the dude thing! Nothing against him at all, he's a really sweet guy and I'm really close friends with him now. But after I had my first kiss, I pretty much was like girls are real pretty and the dudes im just not into that.  So I sorta just slowly stopped talking to Lucas, and I ended breaking up with him.
       But I was scared of being judged for being completely lesbian, so i came out as a pansexual because i thought people would be more accepting.  So I came out to my sister first, I have 2 sisters and i came out to the one that is a year younger than me ,Izzy. Izzy was in the living room one night and i walked out there and i said 'Izzy, you'll love me no matter what, right?' she replied yes and just asked me what was wrong repeatedly.  Then I was like I was thinking and just needed some reminder.  Then she followed me to my room and harassed me for an explanation.  Then I came out and said 'Izzy, im pansexual.'  Then I explained what it was and the first thing she said was '***, NOW I HAVE A GBF!!!'.  I felt so much better after that and i was just so relieved.  After that i came out to my Mom, friends, and my other sister.        
After 3 months, I revealed to my mom that i was still confused because I leaned more towards females and that at that moment i was just using pan as a label but if it changed to not be surprised.
        Around a week after that I gained the courage to come out to my Dad.  I honestly don't know why I was so scared to come out to him, but I was and he was around the last one to learn.  So I walked into my parents room and was just talking to Dad, I had my mom stay in the room just to lessen my anxiety about all of this.  Then I brought up the topic of the LGBT+ community, dad and i talked about it for awhile.  Then i said 'dad, i mentioned gays because i like girls'.  then my dad went on a list of analogies but in the end he was okay with it.  Actually my dad was the most supportive about it right after i told him he was so okay with it and it made me so happy.  Although my dad was upset because i was scared to tell him.  After I came out to him, I pretty much just admitted to being a full blown lesbian, and it was all great and dandy and everyone was happy.
       Then it was time to go back to school, but this year was the year I started high school.  So I was a freshman who had just come out as a lesbian to all my friends and family over summer.  So not many people knew that I was gay.  But then I become friends with this girl, I really liked her.  I was at a friends party and she was invited and after that party I couldn't get her off my mind.  (I know this seems like it's going off track but it will connect soon) I figured out that we have a class together and we started talking.  
        At the party I mentioned the whole being gay thing and she was okay and very aware of it, and one day she went to my locker after school.  She had been doing that a lot and gave me hugs to say bye and stuff but i completely overlooked it because i don't know what flirting is. She was at my locker and i decided to put my big girl pants on and ask if she liked girls.  She responded with i'm pretty much cool with anything (pansexual). Then she asked me to the dance, I obviously said yes and wigged out when she walked away and immediately texted my best friend in florida (Ally).(Oh BTW I came out to her over summer over skype and she's completely chill with it now, we are still best friends and she doesn't mind at all) So we went to the dance and she asked me out.  I said yes, wigged out some more, and then danced some more with my friends while she talked to hers for a few minutes.  Fast forward to the few weeks after the dance.  We had been walking down the halls and hugging so everyone figured it out.
         That's where we are today.  I am still dating the girl, i've met her family and she has very nice parents.  All my friends know that I am lesbian, and they completely accept me.  My family knows, but when I say family I mean my household family.  My grandma and great-aunt know, but besides that no one else does but I don't really need them too so it's all good.  But I am so much happier than I have been in a long time.  Yes, relationships are so frickin stressful especially if it is one with the same *** and you've never had one of them before.  So if you are in your first relationship with a girl, take it slow.  But if anyone is in the mindset of coming out, first make sure that it is safe for you too before you do it.  If it's not safe you can't, be safe about it no matter what.  You'll be able to be open about it one day, but make sure you are in a safe environment.  But if it is, yes coming out is the most stressful time ever! But in the end it is the most rewarding thing, to be able to openly say I'm insert your label(s). It's an amazing feeling, yes you might lose some people on the way but if they won't accept you for the real you then don't even deserve you.  So my final thing it, you are an amazing human, and if you come out you are the strongest being and you have earned my utmost respect. If you haven't, you've earned my utmost respect because it's heart wrenching and I've been there, but you will be able to bloom one day my little flower.

I'm lesbian so what
I'm gay so what
I'm bisexual so what
I'm ******* transgender so what
At least i know who the **** I am
I'm pansexual so what
I'm ******* me
I'm myself
If you don't like it
I love it
If you don't care
I cherish it forever
If you hate me
I love you
I'm LGBT
Who the **** are you
Hahaha

Boys or girls
Neither here nor there
Stuck in the middle
Who to choose to
Spend the rest of forever with

I love you
Three little words
Don't do anything
Personality is all there is
For me to choose from

Forever is in the making
Problem is:
Choosing just one person
Who I'm able to live with

Girls know my pain
Have been through
All the same **** as me
Have the same feminine problems

Guys are oh so sweet
Are always there for me
Give me faith
Make me believe
In the goodness of humanity


The one who has my heart
Will open up my soul
Save me from the beast inside
Make me feel real
For once in my life
Is the one for me

When I do not write poetry!
When I cant write poetry!

When all I can write is strings of meaningless associated  words
about my meaningless associated experiences
in  any of my meaningless associated lifetimes.
Spent committing meaningless associated actions.
Avoiding meaningless associated people with their
meaningless associated GroupMinds.
All meaningless without the Isness of the Universe's hand in mine.

Wandering through life with few companions.
Clad in yellow  dust.
Doing my Raja Yoga practices.
Doing my Tantric Yoga practices.
Doing my Bhakti Yoga practices.
Doing my Gnana Yoga practices.
Doing my Karma Yoga practices.
Doing my Hatha Yoga practices.

Raja Yoga.
waking--sleeping--sitting --lieing--standing--walking--running--eating--*******-swimming--r­ock climbing-trekking the  high  Himalayas---and always doing deep nasal Kriya Yoga breathing as I contemplate the passage of my days and nights and seek the answer to the eternal question of --
Who am I?.
Who am I?.
Surely not the vain and deceitful Mind?
Am I really a small but equal individual,independent,nameless,formless,genderless and non physical individual Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe?.
An individualIsness chasing after being in the
ultimate state of Separate and Merged with the Isness of the Universe.

Tantric Yoga.
Doing various sweaty and pleasure filled acts of ***  with male or female or femboy or boygirl or ******* or pansexual or anyone I fancy with a **** or a ****--and a minimum of love.
My stiff **** in a ****.
A stiff **** in my mouth.
A stiff ****  in my *******.
My stiff ****  in an *******.
*** dribbling down the inside of my legs.
*** dribbling down my chin--all over my face.
Licking wet swollen **** lips.
Licking swollen *****.
Always aiming to arouse ******--to turn on Kundalini.
To reach out and touch the hem of the Isness of the Universe's robe

Bhakti Yoga.
Singing and dancing and painting and glassperlenspiel and cooking and laughing and crying and playing----.
Saxophones and clarinets and flutes and drums and  stringed instruments and the "fool".
Especially my beloved Selmer Alto Clarinet--curved like a
serpent drunk  on life
But the greatest of my instruments is-the "fool".
Foolish for life.
Foolish for unconditional love.
Foolish for to make people laugh.
Foolish for believing that I can solve the riddle of "who am I"?.
All for the delectation of the Isness of the Universe.

Gnana Yoga.
Reading books and pamphlets and essays and sutras and suras and verses and scribbles on grubby pieces of paper.
Searching for that elusive string of associated words that tell me that an honest woman or man passed this way before me.
Not a worshipper of any "god" or "goddess" or any other Celestial being made by the Isness of the Universe to mask  its innocence.
No enlightend beings for me-oh no!.
No buddas for me-oh no!.
No beings in Gnosis for me-oh no!.
No avatars for me--oh no!
No sons or daughters of any "god" or "goddess" for me --oh no!
Just a person,*** irrelevant but compulsory, that had realised,existentially, for a brief moment that they too are a part of the essence of the Isness of the Universe.

Karma Yoga.
Every act I commit adding or subtracting from that accumulation of
Karmas,good and bad or neutral, from every lifetime I have lived.
Boy you gonna carry that weight!!.
Roll that boulder up the hill.
Only ever making Neutral Karma.
Beyond the deceptions of Duality or Non-Duality.
Neutral Karma that only arises
by practising the Six Fundamental Yogas.
But not as an obsession or a lifestyle choice.
Hey Isness of the Universe-give me a helping  hand here!

Hatha Yoga.
Keeping my current body healthy enough so I can
do all other five of the Six Fundamental Yogas.
Cooking million star meals.
No 5 star chefs in my houses.
Eating Organically and drinking water from lifes many springs.
A green leaf salad every day
Taking part in the exercise of living.
No contortions or posturing for me.
Ha! the ingoing breath.
Tha! the  outgoing breath.
Breathing set as conditioned reflex--living on automatic.
Random deep nasal breathing--waking and sleeping.
Dreaming of the Isness of the Universe.
Waking up in the Isness of the Universe's arms.
Feeling the Isness of the Universe's breath on my fevered brow.
Listening to the Isness of the Universe murmuring in a billion billion different ways--
I love you.

Hearing the Isness of the Universe say--
I breathe through your nose and lungs.
I smell through your nose.
I see through your eyes and insightfulness.
I look through your eyes.
I lick the  juice of **** or **** with your tongue.
I taste Vanilla Ice-Cream with your tongue.
I blow a wet **** or stiff **** with your mouth.
I breathe life into the Alto-Clarinet with your mouth.
I touch nakedness of others with your fingers.
I feel the Void with your fingers.
I wake into consciousness at your urgent voice.
I spring into life at your very step.
I experience all through your body.
I experience existence through your life.
I love unconditionally through being
loved unconditionally by you.
I am humble before you.
My beingness is  exalted by your humility
Your beingness is exalted by my humility.

www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk

The yellow, early evening sun feels heavy and warm on my legs.
Like a cat curled up to enjoy a small nap,
It rests on my pink and rainbow blanket.
My mother snores in the old blue chair next to me,
******* in worry and exhaustion and the scent of basil,
Oblivious to the small-town sounds of birds and cars and children playing,
Unaware that her daughter is something she claims to not understand.

"Pansexuality, honestly, just sounds
Horrible,"
She had told me.
"I don't understand pansexuality and gender-fluid and stuff,"
She said,
The car sliding smoothly over the highway under grey skies.
I tried to explain, but I was swamped in
Confusion.
"Well...there are more than two genders, like being gender-fluid and agendered and bi-gendered and third-gendered......
And pansexual people like all of those genders."
"That's what I can't understand. I mean, I kinda get the concept, but..." Her voice trails away like blue cigarette smoke, still deadly even after it has dissipated into the clouds.
I feel like I'm choking on it, raw pink lungs tightening and swelling, forcing yellow stars before my eyes,
Not able to explain the way
I don't care what you identify as,
I only care about love.
My mother's grandmother didn't know that non-straight people existed.
My mother's mother didn't know that bisexual people existed.
My mother doesn't believe that more than two genders exist,
Or know that I find all of them attractive.
But she had already dropped the subject,
Instead filling the awkward lull with discussions of
Colleges and books she's reading and and what my younger sister is doing in school.
I could feel my soul bubbling up behind my lips,
Pink and yellow and blue,
I wanted to tell her to stop and listen.
I wanted to tell her to be quiet,
And to be accepting,
And to try to understand.
I wanted to tell her
'I'm pansexual.
There.
Now you know.
Would you have said that it was horrible and that you can't understand?
That, in essence, I am horrible and you can't understand me?'
But I didn't.
I sat, the warm sticky grey leather under my thighs
The same as the warm, sticky grey clouds,
The yellow sun just peeking out into blue skies beyond the pale pink dogwoods.

She wakes up, warm sticky breath catching in her chest
As she opens her eyes.
She mumbles quietly about oversleeping
Before she rushes out the door,
Leaving behind a daughter
She thinks she knows,
As she claims to not understand
My label
That I have hidden inside my closet door,
Next to my pink, yellow, blue scarves.
Maybe tomorrow I'll put it on,
Pin my heart to my sleeve,
Wear my colors proudly.
But not today.  
Never today.

California highway buzzes and the searing sun shines on the beach towel as I stroke Walt Whitman's beard
Transcendent and alive, but dead, still dead as my brother and his brothers, the 19th Century posse
We know the world better than them but are less learned, as the schools are a failure
and the business is us, but not the same as the industrial business of yesteryear
We are here to consume, consume and as we're dying of consumption , we consume more.

Alcohol, cars, phones and laptops, tablets, tablets, pills and more pills, condoms, liquor, ***** and brews, women, men, more women, more men, razors, lasers, heaters, coolers, snacks, rucksacks, ex lax and nick-knacks. They sell us dreams and nightmares, movies and bomb scares, they sell us news by the hour and power as they exert their own power. They give us gifts and incentives, draw us in so they they can stick us with a pin or a bracelet, and we too can sell to our friends on group hangs or as we stand still listening to our favourite bands. Billboards scream for our attention, or the buses stop at the intersection, and we're supposed to open our little phone and buy whatever is advertised. Why? Y?

They call us the Y generation too, why? Perhaps we ask the question  too much, perhaps we haven't asked enough. Perhaps the X generation simply ponder why we are so consumed with the technology they feed us. Why? Why must they question us, when we are the next great generation, we do laugh at that too. The internet is the new religion, bow down before Google and drink from the pixelated chalice, my child. Any question one could need answering is answered by the internet. The Bible is irrelevant in our society, burn it and download a bible app on the latest smartphone, the Qur'an too, hell, try the Tanakh, the Smriti and the Pāli Canon, for we are enlightened ******* It. And we want more.

somenonamesarcasticasshole@yahoo.com
RE:PARTY TONIGHT!!!!!

Hey yo mane some warehouse downtown has this dubstep DJ from like ******* Iraq or some ****. *** down, gonna be hella ******* there
xo

What music do you like?
All of it
Films?
All of them
TV
I don't own one but I watched every episode of The Wire on Netflix
...
I am a pansexual being riding the ever changing dunes of the Sahara, like so many great poets before me.

Digital immigrants and immigrants of empathy too
How serious do you believe us to be?
I am not using sarcasm as a form of wit for I have no wit.
Stoicism and rejection of education, employment and training.
We surly are the neatest generation, how can we make a mess if we are not awake most days?
Save for the endless party that is life, as we throw used glow sticks at women we desire
and ***** over car windows before getting blown on the lawn

lol dat wuz cray last nite
xo

Die young poets we have no desire for your kind, pacify us with Kerouac and Ginsberg so that we may emulate intelligence and impair the senses, for we care not about the real world either
Our world is the only one that exists, yours will soon crumble
We have trained for the end with extensive views of zombie flicks in coffee houses

@SomeFacelessJerk Follow for follow

Hey OP, you are a ******.
Why yes, yes I am. Does that bother you.
No, OP. You see I too am a ******.

Do away with your hurtful words they have no meaning today
White man died and lost control of his precious dictionary
We are here to save language by replacing all vowels with X's and O's
We are here to consume and in turn consummate this marriage,
the marriage of ignorance and bliss.

I am Pansexual
No, that does not mean i am romantically or sexually attracted to kitchenware.
It means, simply, that:
I like boys
I like girls
I like everything other and in between.
I will support you and love you
No matter what you want to express yourself as.
You do you.
You are amazing.
Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I am pansexual
There I said it

I am pansexual
I love all of the pans
Every single one of them
I don't care if they are
Shining stainless steel
Or rusty and burnt
I don't care if you use them
To cook
Sizzling bacon
Or extra firm tofu
I don't care if you put them
In the cabinet
Or leave it on the stove
I don't care if your pan
Is really
More like a ***
Or doesn't have a handle
I don't care if you
Put a lid on it
Or leave it on an slow open simmer
I don't care how big
Your pan is
Or if it's better suited for soup
I don't care if your pan is
Really just more decorative
And you decide not to use it.
I don't care how may times
You've cooked in your pan
Or if you've never cooked at all

I just want to say that
I love pans
And I am pansexual.

gay marriage is a right!
people can not help who they love
i support gay marriage

people say equal right should be supported more,
but yet dissagree with gay rights

i could not be more proud then what i am now
of my friends for being who they are!
for being comfortable being they're sexuality

homosexual
bisexual
pansexual
striaght

i love my friends no matter what there sexuality!
it is a human right to love who you want

I'm lesbian so what
I'm gay so what
I'm bisexual so what
I'm ******* transgender so what
At least i know who the **** I am
I'm pansexual so what
I'm ******* me
I'm myself
If you don't like it
I love it
If you don't care
I cherish it forever
If you hate me
I love you
I'm LGBT
Who the **** are you
Hahaha

I support gay people
I am also pansexual
Won't you do the day of silence too?

when you first look at me
and i mean more than a furtive passing glance
what do you see?
and i only ask because i have read
that employers have this thing where
they will analyze a hopeful-hire
in 30 seconds
and then they go off of that
mere 30, 29, 28
and so on
all the way down to 0
of whether or not they will get the job

now i am not asking you for a job
because i do not want to work for you
and you are not offering me a position
as caretaker, worker, cleaner, lover
and even if you were
it would not be accurate
because i am so much more than
30 seconds

because in such a short amount of time
that only allows a quick once-over
all that you will come away with
is a mix of stereotypes and an impression
based off of what gender you think i am

30, 29, 28
purple haired freak, clown, butch
27, 26, 25
girl, must be a lesbian, what a ****
24, 23, 22
must have been a cutter at some point
maybe still is, but who can really say?
because the world we live in is getting colder
and hotter and colder and layers upon layers
is the only way to go
21, 20, 19
is she a girl or a boy? who does she think she is?
what should i call her?
18, 17, 16
she she she
15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
0, 0, 0,
girl girl girl

(now let me tell you what
i gleaned from the 30 seconds that
you looked me up and down
like i was nothing more than a slab
of meat and you wanted to
dig a knife into my and cut me into little chunks

what i saw in your eyes
it was not nice
and i saw the moment when you
labeled me as a female
because of my *******
soft and supple and right ******* there
and the societally stereotyped feminine pear shape of my hips
all the way down to where there is no bulge
because how can she be a ******
when she hasn’t got any bottom dysphoria, huh?

and sure that’s a great question
it’s so clever and original
why can’t you just be a tomboy?
why can’t you just be a lesbian?
why not try being bisexual?
but really the question
the million dollar question
is why can’t you just be a girl?

well because i’m not a girl
and i have known this
since i was 7 years old
and that was ******* terrifying
because i knew for a fact that
i was something else than the doctor
had labeled me as after glancing at
my new born baby self
and thinking: yup, ******=female

and i tried being a tomboy
wearing ripped jeans and converse
and keeping my hair short
wearing baggy sweatshirts to hide
my *******
but it wasn’t enough

and i tried being a lesbian
actually since i did not know what
transgender meant
let alone that there was a word to describe
what i had felt like inside for
9 long **** years
i rationalized that i must have been a lesbian
because that was a quick-fix-easy-answer
to the cuts on my wrist and the misery
i felt whenever someone called me a girl

and i tried being bisexual
which came after a lesbian
and before transgender
and yeah sure i guess it worked
but not for long
and then it happened and i knew what
transgender meant and that
i wasn’t a tomboy
a lesbian
or even bisexual

and i tried being a girl
but it very nearly killed me
and then it happened
and i knew who and what i was

i am a transgender male
my sexuality is pansexual
and no i do not have *** with pans
though that’s really original and not something
i’ve heard so many times already

but i know that i am not a woman
and your 30 second analysis of me
does not help you at all
because you see me through a lens
of female, butch, lesbian, she, she, she
and that is not who i am at all)

I hate your ******* skepticism.
You sit and look at me from across an
Empty expanse of blood-red tablecloth that might as well be
The divide between galaxies.
I try to stay calm when you ask if
"Alternative" pronouns are being used
As a "social experiment" in GSA.
I look away.
My heart pounds.
My face flushes.
It is only for the sake of the young kids present
That I do not mutter any obscenities.
I take a deep breath.
I tell you, slowly, carefully, that
No it isn't an experiment.
They have chosen to use plural pronouns
They, them, theirs,
Just as legitimate as the "normal" ones, male and female.
Why should anyone's name be tied to
What they were born with between their legs?
You answer back in a long drawl that is so full I skepticism
I could choke on it's ignorance.
"Okay then."
Two words, two words that make me rethink everything
I think about you, my father.
I was filled with hope when I listened to
Tales of love and life,
Freedom to marry who you want.
You support gay rights, Dad,
But I'm left wondering:
Do you support all my friends?
The pansexual and gender-fluid and bisexual and homosexual and demi-****** and those who chose other pronouns?
What about the transsexuals and asexuals and third-gendered and pan-romantic and sapiosexual and queer?
I turn away before I reveal my hurt to you
I will not open up this can of worms again, I'm sure.
I thought I knew you.
Now I only know how much more I
Respect
Compared to you.

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.

I may not have the privilege of support from all sides,
But I know who I am.
Maybe it hasn’t exactly surfaced,
And I admit,
There have been some times where I wondered if it’s right,
But how can finally being sure of yourself be wrong?
Yes,
I struggle with self-image
And self-acceptance
My mom looking me in the eye and telling me I can’t be sure,
Or listening to my dad lecture my sister about how it’s
Adam and Eve,
Not Eve and Amy
Doesn’t exactly help,
But in a place and a society where being yourself is only acceptable
Sometimes
If at all,
Having even a little bit of pride
Can be the difference between
Saying “***** it” and being yourself
And deciding pleasing others is more important than your own happiness
But I’m done letting others decide what’s best for me
When I’m clearly already drowning in expectations
So here goes;
I’m pansexual and **** proud
Take it or leave it,
But I'm not gonna change for anybody.

A lesser human being
Something to be hated
An abomination
Repulsive
Me.

They make it seem like
Somehow it's worse
That I'm black
As well as
Gay.

I'm not a ******, that word
Doesn't describe who I am,
I just want to love
Who I
Want.

Would it help if I told you that I probably
Will be single anyway because
I'm not attractive and  I'm
Direly afraid of
Love?

Being pansexual isn't the definition
Of the word "******" at all
Because pansexuality does
Not mean a pile of
Sticks.

So, you see, I am not a "******"
The word shouldn't even exist
As an insult; however, it can't
Really be reclaimed
Anymore.

22.2
You mailed me a package with a note that said a person’s boots are the most intimate thing someone can own because they take the imprint of the body. On the other side you scribbled “Wherever I seat myself I die in exile”

15
Today I opened my email (well not really today, this was when my usernames still had words like ‘punk’ and ‘babe’ in them) and there was a little blond boy with the same gray eyes and a note that said “He looks nothing like me and everything like you – what a punishment.” The doorbell rang and I expected to find him at the door but this isn’t the movies and when I got back upstairs I realized I didn’t even know his name but my reply bounced back. I guess I never will and you won’t either.

11
You fed me ecstasy and popped my shoulder back in its socket so I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. While I writhed on the floor you drove J’s truck into a church and punched a cop.

12
I got tired of competing over who could sleep with more of the other’s friends. ******* it even when I started ******* girls and doubled the pool from which I fished you got lazy and started on my ex-boyfriends and all I could think was “When did I start sleeping with gay guys?” But this was before we knew about more options than just gay or straight and I never thought about how maybe it was Freud who said we are all a little bisexual or pansexual or something like that

14
I was mad, both crazy and angry, when I saw the needles and the black and blue an association with T. D. J. W. W. sometimes hyphen R. produced. How pretentious to have that many names. Sometimes the explanation is worse than the action.

13
You broke into my (our) house in the middle of the night and these are the things you took: bedsheets, toilet paper, every flannel item on the second floor, grandma’s jewelry (mine, not yours, and she just died too) all the money in my piggy bank, *****, eggs, milk, cheese, actually all the food in the fridge, the **** you gave me for Christmas, the car keys but not the car, the prickly green welcome mat and one of the goldfish. Why wouldn’t you just take them both? The name Fishn Chips only works when they are both there, it doesn’t make sense with only one.

14.2
I think this was the first time I saw a grown man cry. How clichéd.

21
I don’t have to pretend to like coffee anymore and when I drink I inhale it deep until brown sludge threatens to invade my lungs. People say I look absolutely euphoric and once I said “Yeah it’s the only thing I learned from T” but that’s a lie because you also taught me how to pop security tags off clothes with a rubber band and what to do if you need to take certain things to or from Canada. Whenever I see a California area code I still don’t answer the phone. We haven’t spoken in years which I find remarkable considering how few I have accumulated and how few you have left. I saved the message you left me from the night you found that kid and I feel weird because the panic in your voice reminds me of when we got in trouble for things much less severe and it sort of makes me happy.

17
Oh how orange suits you (har har har). D says he thinks this will really straighten you out. This makes me laugh because I remember how you secretly like to sleep with the same boys as me. Then he leans over to a stranger, points to me, and says “That’s my only kid…a girl.” I don’t think we are coming to visit again.

10
The holler traps gasoline in the air and I imagine when coal trucks dominated these one lane roads it recycled dust the same way. You drank so much moonshine you swore you felt the mountainside breathing. Then you went blind for five days. When your eyes regained focus you drove my four-wheeler off the road and your leg burned pink and slick. A snake bit my left heel but no one noticed because they thought you would need skin graphs and you had such beautiful legs.

22
You sent a Christmas card to everyone and you were all the buzz at dinner even though I’m going to college and bought presents with my own money and J – forever your defender – says I should be comfortable in my achievements and you need a little more give and I made everyone at the table awkward when I told them that was exactly the sort of attitude that got you where you are now.

19
J and I went looking for you when you stopped calling for money. Two pounds for each inch we found your skin stretched tight over bones and while I coaxed the dirt from your hair you explained the proper way to tie an arm so a vein doesn’t burst. I can’t think of a single thing to tell anyone I know about you, so I don’t. I can think about all the speeches I would like to give to you – eloquent deliveries about what a selfish ******* you are. How you promised to pick me up and it was winter and I was so cold and embarrassed no one had come for me so I waited outside and walked to the store fifteen minutes away to use the pay phone and then walked back. Or how I insisted on saving my graduation ticket for you because you said you would come back to the state but then you never showed and called me ****** and still in California claiming it was February. I realized you were just like my dad and I cut all my hair off.

8
I was confused about how someone could live with us but not be related. When a birth certificate was just a piece of paper before you pushed me in front of a car but after you busted my face open – the definition of “taking it on the chin.” I still think you killed my cat.

This country was founded on the idea of being who you are in liberty, yet there are people stuck in closets because the monsters are on the other side and the darkness has become too comforting at this point. The face of death has become too beautiful to want to turn away. We are hidden, dancing around the idea of being hung as perfectly as that shirt that was “too gay”. We are wondering how to propose to the Grim Reaper because at this point, he is the only man who can “make us straight”, at least in my case. Others would give him a blow in exchange for their soul. The asexuals, though, are finding the words to ask death out on a coffee date. We’re all just thinking and wishing. We’re rolling out our blueprints and studying the structure of surviving instead of accepting that we’re different and actually living. The pride that used to live in us died a long time ago. Maybe around the same time we were in the closets writing our suicide notes. For me it was the day my mother said the idea of me having lesbian friends gave her headaches. Let me not even get into how high her blood pressure would rise if I told her she had a pansexual daughter. “Had”. Now I am but a corpse living among the resurrected by Christ and I constantly ask myself when God is going to baptize me. I ask myself when I am going to stop looking like a zombie from the Walking Dead because, ******* it, I never learned the script or signed up for any of this. I never even wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be a singer. I wanted to sing the songs of my love for her and let the paparazzi spread rumors of how I cheated because I’m that ******* hot. Mother, I wanted to be a singer, but you ripped my tonsils out and told me to smile for the camera and look pretty. But mother, have you ever thought of something? What if she’s the only one I want to look pretty for?

When the girls at my Christian college find out I am pansexual
They ask me
What Biblical evidence I have to back up the righteousness
Of same-*** relationships
Like it is a fact out of a textbook
That my love for people is wrong
Same old hymn, sing it again
You're sick of getting rejected
Same old hymn, sing it again
I love you but I don't support your lifestyle
Same old hymn, sing it again
Don't date her, she'll cheat on you anyway
We keep harmonizing to the chorus:
Love the sinner, hate the sin
Love the sinner, hate the sin
Hate who you are, love who you should be
When they tell me pansexual people only exist because it is trendy
That my love for a woman is a fallacy
I love who I love when it goes out of style
Why are we only focused on LGBTQ
When there is love that protrudes beyond those limiting letters?
Never have I seen one pan person on a panel
Speaking about their story
Speaking about their pain
As if they are the only version of this record
Somewhere, another queer person loses a job
Holds a silver bullet to the temple
Scratch that
Society, our construct of queer, the Church
Places the weapon at the scene of the crime
This is no longer a suicide
As we can suspect fowl play.
Every time this happens
My knees become knobs on a radio
My brain, a button
My body switches channels
Begging, pleading, screaming to sing
A different melody.

Pansexual
love the person not their gender
surrender to love in huge amounts
because that’s what counts

(This is a group poetry slam. The bolded lines are said in unison. I was in charge of the "yellow" sections)

A technicolor finish tainting paint on hate drenched signs
Alex: picketing picking away bits of lips, slicing silence into arms and hips
rainbows were not always so black and blue
Brigitte: yanked from the sky by a brood of vipers, dragged through mud and fire, pummeled until we see double.
Nicole: Poison placed on children’s tongues, “******” never tasted as sour as when describing
Audrey: translucent half circles shamed into not showing their true colors
Allie: We hide the private parts of ourselves, but what if our sheer existence clouds some sets of eyes with rage?
Even the speed of light can’t escape lids clenched tight like fists.  

Red
Brigitte: First crush is a hot sweat and perpetual throat lump
Molten shame gurgling beneath the tender flesh of your candy apple cheeks
Stains memory like spilled red wine
She was intoxicating
Red flecked rosacea readily recalls
Her name a cherry aftertaste, berry sweet yet crimson thirsty
red is the color of metamorphosis. of hormones misbehaving. of flushed ******* and a wish dancing on another girl’s lips.
Of bullseyes tattooed on wrists
Red is a warning of children’s taunts and old, wary eyes. It is the hue of thought blind hatred

Orange
Allie: The shade of autumn leaves slowly passing on
Grim reminders of slowly approaching school hallways that sneer taunts
Orange the color of names thrown into aching ears
******
Thrown into breaking hearts
Queer
Thrown into minds full of orange flickering bonfires of shame
Orange
The color of beautiful things slowly dying

Yellow
Alex: Like the caution signs on winding roads
Barely illuminated when the sky is too dark
Seen too late before a crash
Twisted metal ringing in our ears like
Twisted thoughts ringing in our ears like
When we recognize a crush that sets us apart
That tells us we're
Not normal, not right
Like fading bruises as we tell ourselves
That we're just yellow bellied cowards
As we tell ourselves
That on straight roads we wouldn't crash
And with straight hearts we wouldn't bleed

Green
Nicole: I feel sick
“A little green around the gills”
as I swim away is that why I’m drowning
in these murky waters of
“What if”s and “i don’t know”s
I have always been certain of the leafy canopies and garden inside of me
but this vine of uncertainty sprouted
and is choking me
I should not feel afraid for what I am because
this life is green and sprouting but there are
forest fires of hate spreading
We see the smoke signals all around us
our magnificent green fading to ashes

Blue and Purple
Audrey: Blue curtains block out the world that lurks just outside
Waiting to hurt me.
8 pm.
Purple dusk is gathering outside my walls
The same way the bruises on my heart threaten to eclipse the sun.
I'm scared.
I don't look at the veins  beneath my skin because they
Remind me too much of the purple-red blood
That spills too often from my arms,
Reminds me of my father's face
Purple with rage
When I told him
9 pm. Navy skies I will not see again
Purple pen writing apologies
Heart pumping blood too fast,
No time,
Can't breathe, face purple,
Can't breathe, face blue
Can't breathe.


They took away our rainbow. Let’s take it back.

Purple and Blue
Audrey: I love the way the sky turns lavender before the sun rises
I love the way your long hair and pale curves look
Against the blue sheets
I love not hiding who we are.
We should get Purple Hearts for all the times
The missiles of queer and butch have landed in
The midst of our embrace,
Launched by an unknown enemy before we were able
To twine our hands and hearts on small-town sidewalks
Laying under the lilac bushes,
Watching the day slip into purple dusk with firefly stars.
I love not hiding who we are.

Green
Nicole: once a cowering seed deep underground
Sprouting up through a crack in the slab of
concrete hate concrete rejection
because fresh life will destroy hate
even if it is slowly, one seed at a time
we are not weeds in your garden
green
a safe place the sun shining
fresh sprouting buds anticipating something beautiful
the prelude to a symphony of colors
green
sprouting from the earth
we do not need to prove that we are not unnatural
but grown from the same soil

Yellow
Alex: Somewhere in the middle of the rainbow like I'm
Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum
Associated with the sun and the stars but
Not with day and night
Because things are never quite as black and white as we make them out to be
Yellow, in the middle of pink and blue on the pansexual flag
Acknowledging that there are people out there
Who could love people like me
And yellow like dandelions
Changing daily into pieces drifting away
To end up regrown in dirt
Just like anything else

Orange
Allie: The shade of sunrise
A beautiful dawn of hope and opportunity
Peeking over the horizon
The passage of time and hopefully some ******* laws
Orange the warmth of a new day pouring some happiness into what once was a seemingly endless night
Orange the color of change

Red
Brigitte: sunshine ray burn cozy in your proud heart
blood rush, fire burst, lovesick intensity smoldering in your eyes
Red is a love fusion ignited inward and radiating out like a star
illuminating the night regardless of how dark the nothing is around it
Red is grown up, a rubicund shamelessness sewn with time into the marrow of your bones
Roll out the red carpet, paint roses on the town
Blood is not only death, it’s also life

Audrey: Acceptance!
Nicole: Life!
Alex: Hope!
Allie: Change!
Brigitte: Love!

**Pride comes in ALL colors

When I attempt to think about my future, I know I can't. I know, I can only do what I can now to piece together my future like a puzzle. I want to get on T, I want to cut my hair shorter than my parents allow, I want more body modifications, I want to have a completely flat chest, but at the moment, I can't imagine what I'd turn into. A butterfly I'm not able to picture yet. I am at the moment, a small catapillar, not being able to pass for the gender I wish. She's. Hers'. That's not what I want directed towards me. I wants he's and they's. Male and neutral term are what I want my friends to use. Not my birth name, Kit. Kit Lucas Zachary is what I'll become when I get older and scrounge the money together to make that change possible. I must change myself and bold myself into what I want to be happy, even if that means I lose people, I can deal. If they don't agree with how I feel, they don't need to be in my life anyway. I can't say that I'm a boy yet, I can't say I'm pansexual yet. The violence that is occurring against my LGBTQ+ people locks my lips together to my parents, and possibly some of my friends, because I don't want them to be my demise. In this hick state of Texas. My chest binder must be put up due to high summer tempatures, it's too hot to have on so I can't feel at home in my own body. I hate my feminine face, and my father uses double standard, making me shave, making me feel naked and incorrect. I feel incomplete, like I haven't had my right growth spirt, my right puberty. "Oh yeah, she-" makes me want to put a bullet in my head, but it I pulled the trigger I know my family wouldn't understand why. "Hey girl!" don't look, don't turn, they aren't talking about you. But, once I'm an adult with a steady income, I hope to become the person I wish to be.

She is a girl

She has two sisters, a dog
And a pair of worn-out headphones in her pocket

She is fifteen

She plays violin in the school orchestra
And sings duets in the sun

She is left-handed

She’s also pansexual
(Just thought you should know)

<><><>

She is a girl
(A different girl, mind you)

She has bright hair and dark eyes
And a sky of freckles spanning her body

She is a netball player

She listens to everything that’s said
And laughs at everything in response

She is an Aquarius

Her girlfriend is an Virgo
(Is this what they call diversity?)

<><><>

He is a boy

He is on the males’ baseball team
And recites prophetical speeches in the dugout

He is an early riser

He likes old-fashioned comedy movies
And his favourite colour is either orange or black

He is graduating next year

He’ll finally get to ask his school’s star pitcher to prom
(Finally is the right word)

<><><>

‘She’ is a boy
(A different boy, mind you)

‘She’ lives in the countryside
And travels 2 hours to campus each morning

‘She’ is a realist

‘She’ studies human relations
And has wanted to visit Rome since 'she' was eight

‘She’ is a part-time barista

‘She’ prefers the pronoun ‘he’
(No big deal if you forget though)

<><><>

They are people

They have people they love
And people who love them

They are people

They may have changed to you
And yet they haven’t changed to themselves

They are people
They are still people

<><><>

(Just thought you should know)

<><><>

I'd be the first to turn the question into 'What is Gay?'
People like me came up with terms like 'Pansexual'

this is not an easy thing to explain.
but since i was little i knew i wasnt straight
no i am not a lesbian
no i am bot bisexual
i am a thing most people dont know of
it is called pansexual
i do like boys
but i like girls too
and everybody in between
i date for personality
not for looks
but if your cute that is an added bonus
I feel like i trust u all
you don't know anyone that knows me
like seriously who are you going to tell
my friends already know
my parents had known
they just thought i was bi
but im not
im different.

I was never one for diaries
Just the average kid trying to survive
Even though I really didn't want to
My names Porsche
I'm 17 and I guess it's time I told my story

My dad is an abusive drug dealing alcoholic
Surprised he hasn't got shot on the streets
My brother is a crack head
He decides to beat me behind everybody's back
I used to get locked in closets for hours on end
Mom would always take me out and clean me up
Just before the drunk got home

I used to be fat and staid to myself
I didn't have friends growing up
I was fine with it
That's how I wanted it
Girls at school would pick on me
They'd call me fat and ugly
Just like my parents would do

I tried shrinks and counselors
They diagnosed me as PTSD
Pills started becoming my best friends
I didn't want to be apart of reality
After all reality was me never being happy
Being beaten for being me
Having emotions was almost illegal

My parents divorced
Wish I could of divorced this life
But I was told I was beautiful
Something I never heard before
And *** became the way I thought showed love
Another thing I was never apart of

Kids starting calling me "Whorsche"
When they did I just pulled down my sleeves
So they didn't see the scars they were leaving
Mom said it was a release
So I figured I would try it
Suicide was always an option
Just to opt out of another painful session of life

I tried having friends
But they were just sell outs
They told everybody my darkest secrets
The very ones I didn't want to be told
I guess it's my own stupid fault
Trying always leads to failure

I soon found other drugs in my life
Freshman year I was the sick looking kid
Pale skin with a corpse smile barely glued together
Sophomore year the pill popping stopped
I got kicked out of my dads
I told him I was pansexual
He thought I meant lesbian
So when I tried explaining it
He grabbed me by my neck
Which he caused some permanent nerve damage
I punched him
It was a great feeling

I moved into my moms
Not much better
But I'm not getting physically abused
Verbally isn't much better
I guess I'd still prefer the belt
The drugs are stopping
The cutting stopped
9 months cut free

I'm finally moving on with my life
I have some great friends
Even though I still want to cut
I made a promise to another girl
Who was also cutting that we would stop together
Thanks to all of that
I'm no longer the emo *****
Or even the pill popping *****
I'm just Porsch
Completely without the "e"
I finally learned how to smile
Guess not all stories in this diary end

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I have a friend, a transgender woman.
Let’s call her Miss Portugal.
She looks more womanly than me, acts more appropriate to our gender.
Every time we walk together, people would look at her first.
She was more attractive.
I would be thinking, “I wonder if they know she is not a real woman.”

Yes, yes, this poem will be about acts or thoughts of discrimination.
Those coming from me.

We were once invited to a small party, I got there first, and men asked about her.
I answered them matter-of-factly, of where she was and that she would join us shortly.
But I was waiting for the punch line.
As though not believing that they could be interested in meeting her, for real,
knowing that she also has . . . you know.
What they have.

She had a long-time boyfriend she met back in college.
They are not together anymore, but they were together for many years,
since they were freshmen ’til they already had jobs after graduation.
He was as straight as any of my male friends could be,
part of the gang,
with as many antics and tricks up his sleeve as your average kolehiYOLO.
But it was love at first sight for him.
At the common bathroom of their boys' dorm.
He was confused as to why a girl was there.
They became one of those distinguishable couples around campus.
He could be seen riding his bike around school while she sat at the backseat.
Their love story is one I like to tell when I am at a certain level of intoxication and with a certain kind of company.
I would tell it with so much flair, you’d think it was one out of a romantic Korean telenovela.
It was that hard for me to believe that I was a firsthand witness to a real-life gay love story.

I have another friend, a transgender man.
Let’s call him Buttercup.
He is a writer, a brilliant one.
When the friendship was still new, when I had just found out he wrote, after reading some of his works,
there was that familiar envy,
if not for the words he got to first,
then the dark but rich experiences I may never have.
I found myself consoling my half-inspired, half-humbled ego
with the fact that he had more suffering.
As though I knew that just by simply being so,
he was already at a disadvantage by default.

He used to be overweight.
I used to think the, well, heavy transgender men I see intentionally gained weight to lose their curves.
Then BC decided to go on a diet.
I was confused for a moment.
Then finally science came to rescue my logic back and reminded me about the heart stuff.
How dumb of me to have been more concerned of how people like him should appear that I could easily have overlooked my friend’s need to have a healthier lifestyle.
Then his no-rice diet worked.
He began to look better.
I think he felt even better.
There was the envy again.
But I was too lazy to follow his advice,
to follow suit,
so I, again, consoled myself with the thought that he was not considered a woman anyway.
Women become envious when other women lose weight only when they’re straight.
Even beautiful lesbians aren’t a real source of insecurities.
You could be dating the likes of Brandon Boyd, they’d not be able to care less.
Although it is possible the same cannot be said of your boyfriend regarding your two beautiful lesbian friends.

BC had a girlfriend, who was also a friend, still is.
There was a time when we shared a flat.
One time, my Christian preacher of a mother visited.
I introduced BC and his girlfriend as cousins.
I wasn’t ashamed of them.
I just wanted to spare myself from a barrage of questions my mother would have surely aimed at me had I told the truth.
Here I was, perhaps the most open-minded friend they have,
yet just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation,
I was able to easily shove their identities into hiding from the very people closest to me.
I did both sides a form of disrespect.

If I were to draw conclusions, I would begin with,
So shallow people give shallow judgments.
Therefore it would seem the depths I’ve tried to dive into through these years of “freethinking” instead only caused my own prejudice to sink deeper.
Only to become more difficult to recognize.
And here I was trying to “educate” this particular sort of people spewing off ignorant nonsense when I myself am still lacking,
although not in tolerance,
as most of us now are so quick to use as a defense that our treatment of the lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transexuals, transgenders, transvestites, queers, the questioning, the intersexual, the pansexual, the asexual is satisfactory,
but certainly in the acceptance that what they are are, what you are,
is as natural as what I am,
what we are.

LGBTTTQQIPAS

Still waters run deep
A pansexual ideology burrows farther
Gorge yourself on self-victimization
Fault rests in your skinny fingers, slipping
Swallow it and drown in your laughable appeal
They've got nothing on me

I like women

I like men

I like everyone in between

I like people

I like personality

Where do I fit in?

This offends me as a vegan transgender hipster democrat voting Native-American-Indo-Chinese socialist anarchist hybrid illegal alien agnostic-atheist Germanic social engineering major dropout who only vapes fair-trade organic non-GMO decaffeinated French-pressed compressed and hydrated extra-skim grass-fed only protein soy breast milk on the regular and does Hindi Kama Sutra naked crossfit hot yoga 5 times a week. And frankly, since I am also a non-binary tri-gender genderqueer male feminist and I identify as a proponent to legalize cannabis and a Rastafarian, pansexual, genderfluid, Apache helicopter beta mutt of mega multi alpha beta gamma delta omega combo god of hyper death who's adamant about polygamous polyamorous relationships with an pure-bred alpha chihuahua which helped me cross the border of Mexico to let love trump the hate and get a job 3-D printing pink ***** hats all day. My dog also walks me to the local skate park and doggy styles me, while my gender neutral photographer neighbor takes pictures and sells them on the dark web antifa site and if you find that weird you're an ignorant arrogant homophobic gender-assuming globophobic bloodthirsty bacon-loving gun-toting cis-gender pan-****** patriarchal incestuous sexist racist white-privileged misogynistic populist biased objectified white-privileged anti-communist **** indoor tanning Cheetos cheese-puff-loving republican.

There was many a time I just sat in the corner of that old quiet room.
I loved it there
Just locked up away from the impurities of the world
Playing with the shadows and the imaginary friends of my ever so free creativity
Not knowing that they would soon become my worst enemy
That they would corrupt my mind and expose me to what I was hiding from for so long
I did not dare question it though for the fact that I feared of delving ever more into the darkness

After years that old room turned into the pigs sty of a ******* thirteen year old..who was me...
Always getting yelled at by his mother for wanting to be male and not his biological gender
Always getting hit for being pansexual and falling in love with everyone
Always on his phone and computer
Sending out many corrupting things and plotting many horrid deaths
But never to pursue his nightmarish dreams
Of blood and clowns and killers and laughter
The blank faces and blood red shadows staring at him through the mirror
Always hearing a blank whisper saying his name
His twisted thoughts now playing games
Making him...aka me...seem more insane.

Years from this present time
He...or me...will be alone in an apartment
Almost broke and in college
Trying to fulfill whatever far fetched dream I managed to dream up
But I won't still be okay.
I will be more alone then ever before
Allowing the dreadful shadows and imaginary friends that haunted my childhood to come back and corrupt me again
With no one to help me
Or hear me scream

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.

You could call me female.
You could call me heterosexual.
You could even call me Cece.
You could, but you'd be wrong.

Because I am NOT always female.
Because I am not heterosexual.
Because I am definitely not Cece.
Do you want to know what I am?

I AM gender fluid.
I AM pansexual.
I AM Ash.
Do you start to understand me?

Male, neutral, female
Male, female, and others
Ash Jimenez
Are you still with me?

E unless otherwise indicated.
Don't assume that bae is a he (he is tho).
Yes, I am changing my name.
I hope that you understand.

I am an asexual feminist who is pansexual
How can you be asexual and pansexual?
*** is just a thing to me I don't hate it and I don't enjoy it. It's just there. Waiting in the dark corner of the room calling. Taunting me to have it. Honestly swxual desire isn't there unless I get emotionally attached to you then... then we are in trouble..