Offering

To be transgender means,

to have your genitalia become dinner table conversation.

Something people would never do with cis people.

But suddenly my cock and cunt is carved up,

to be consumed by polite cutlery.

To be transgender means,

to have your life sidelined by an imaginary person,

that people speak to and wonder why you don't answer.

My pronouns are they/them. My pronouns are they/them.

It is not that hard.

To be transgender means,

that every statement about you by cis people,

is university incorrect. Always.

And don't dream to correct them, 

because you will drown in wrath and tears.

To be transgender means,

there is no being. You don't get to just be.

Oh you get to identify as, but never just be.

You either disappear completely,

or you identify as.

To merely be, is not an option.

To be transgender means,

everyone gets to have an 'opinion',

over whether you get to live or die.

Existance isn't guaranteed, it's reduced to schoolyard 'debate',

and whether you can muster the wherefores and whytos,

to legitimise your claim on a heartbeat.

To be transgender means,

being constantly surprised that you're surprised.

Being constantly disappointed that you're disappointed.

Having dreamed to think things might be better this time around.

To be transgender means,

that when I was hurt, it wasn't really hurt,

I must have asked for it, or else I must have deserved it.

Besides, TERFs are just stochastic terrorists, 

they're not responsible for male violence,

except when it wasn't a man who threw the punch,

pushed the hatred, told another lie.

To be transgender means,

being tired, all the time.

Because no amount of sleep cures this.

No amount of rest brings your head above water.

To be transgender means,

you are constantly drowning.

To be transgender means,

I am not doing okay.

And it's not getting better.

And I don't see a tomorrow where this gets better.

And I don't think I'm going to make it.

-o0o-

Scatterplot Boy

Scatterplot boy with a numerical heart:

worried, anxious, and bent out of joint;

lost the plot and ripped apart.

Where do you rest your head tonight?

Your constant concern and anxious mind;

worried the world might leave you behind.

Graphing the world point-by-point.

Where do you rest your head tonight?

Heavy soul, take small respite.

Allow your bones a restful night.

Lay your head down upon my chest.

Give in to sleep and take some rest.

What lays beyond my hearth but spite?

Where do you rest your head tonight?

-o0o-

Agoraphobia

I really can't stand large groups.
I want to crawl out of my mouth,
and run away naked,
so my body is there dealing with it,
and I can be alone,
up a tree,
eating someone's cat.

-o0o-

Invocation of Winter

I will do tonight what I hate,

reduce myself to empty state.

Unheart myself, dislodge the clot;

see the pain but feel it not.

shush my choirs, dispel my covens;

dispassion my furnaces and ovens.

Cool my soul to ice and flint,

make emotions rare and skint.

Free my tongue of emotive tastes,

dry my lands like salty wastes.

Unhuman me to still the pain,

so at least this night I might remain.

Winter steal it from my chest,

so I might find some time to rest.

Winter pray my heart to keep,

here to lay me down to sleep.

-o0o-

My First Panic Attack

seventeen years old

on the night the New Year was supposed to arrive

and I got quite the surprise

when the world ended

me sitting by the pool

I guess I'm lucky I fell away from the pool

instead of into it

heaven knows

it might have been my last panic attack

-o0o-

Ochre

There is clay under my feet.
It is yellow and barren like me,
but it makes for good ink.
So I take a sorry seat,
and write of all I see,
of all the things I dare to think.
What strangely things we meet,
that dreams congeal to be,
that lead us to the brink,
that causes ships to sink,
down, down, down into the clay,
where fantasies may be what may.

-o0o-

Anxiety

the fear that promises and never delivers
a liar and a cheat
with a face sweet and misleading
twisting your every second dream
just enough so you think
"maybe all my dreams are this way"
so you stop
as it tears just enough of your world down
so you have to carry on
headed through life at the speed of a corpse

-o0o-

Sated

full is easy

sated not so much

full is a bowl of rice

sated is a good rice salad

full is fucking ten random guys

sated is the love of one

it is true

I want the whole world

but make no mistake

I'll take full over empty in a heartbeat

-o0o-

When I'm Sick

it's worse when I'm sick

the memories set in quick

lock my bones, click/click

reminds me of him

him who broke me

down

into small pieces

when the fever sets in

and his hands become

here and now

instead of then and there

a horrid pair

touching my flesh

ripping my skin

crushing bone

as I beg the phantom to leave me alone

and he takes that smarmy tone

it's worst when I'm sick

and it happens again

the same play

on repeat the same way

years after it happened

and my fevered mind

bringing it back

hit rewind

PTSD unkind

with teeth gritting

staring at the wall

white-ing out my mind

reminding me

he's not here at all

-o0o-

Eat and be Merry

come and eat, friends

you soaked in the blood of your peers

you bruised at the hands of your keepers

sit and eat, feast at my table

let go of your daily fears

for a moment, just for a while

allow yourself this time

and join me for tea

a safe spot with you and me

my friends, for now

while times are calm

and friendship heals our constant qualm

eat, be merry, love one each other

it's nothing much in colder climes

when smiles are all the sutures we have

and the only pain killers I have are words and rhymes

I only have kisses for your bruises

and food for a heart sorrowed

what we gain now, tomorrow loses

and all we own is borrowed

-o0o-

Survivor's Poetry

poetry has become the stuff of survival

protest in prose

write a poem

call it food

and eat it word for word

to nourish the belly

for the long road

write a poem

call it anger

a blade to cut through bullshit

in abusive times

I write the road ahead

flatten it

hills knocked flat

ditches filled up

I write the road behind

paved with memory

and myself

stretched

a long story

warping

weaving

waving into the future

a handrail of words to cling to

a guide in the dark

a survival manual for the traveler

-o0o-

Picking Battles

I'm picking each battle today

in every word that I say

doling them out on small paper plates

each friend that I greet

each stranger I meet

carefully measuring the volumes and weights

I only have so much to spare

and a soul in need of repair

and how I'm practicing prudence with my supplies

I have far to go

and my rations are low

and I don't have much time for your hatred and lies

-o0o-

Panic Attack

little breath

short and sweet

let me up onto my feet

heartbeat race

tear flows

panic knocks, panic knows

dirty feet on

my clean floor

smash the plates, slam the doors

bitter guest who

pins me down

deeper till I start to drown

clothes wet from

the panicked sweat

worst fiend I had ever met

petrified by

fear again

again, again, again, again,

waves of panic

over me

coat my eyes that I can't see

dead

cold in space

nothing in this time and place

panic kiss me on my face

nothing left, without a trace

awaken in the morning

shower

cold water

rinse the sweat off

tell myself to stop being so silly

get on with it

-o0o-

Not Enough

I’m not enough
just a small cup
take just one sip
you’ve drunk me up

my heart can only break so much
often it's broken for me
often broken for someone else
but I can only break so much, you see

I’m not a lot
just one cup
just one long moment
and I’m used up

-o0o-

the old shirt

"him"

again

the same word

the wrong pronoun

my own lips betraying me

I know why I do it

playing out the old narrative

constantly

trying to play a dead character

a man I killed in my head

the boy I was never meant to be

"him"

again

I said it of myself

and I know why

trying to hide behind "him" again

a fiction I invented to survive

because "them" is so 'pretentious'

"him"

again

I know why I do this

because it's a powerful narrative

isn't it?

speaking of "him"

so much more powerful

than to speak of "them"

because I am "them"

and I don't think they will listen to them

until I stop playing this hiding game

training my own lips

teaching them not to disown me

teaching them not to take part in self-hatred

teaching them not to dress me in "him"

teaching them not to make me be a dead boy

a dead gender

a bad, old t-shirt I used to wear to fit in

"him"

blue

snips and snails

puppy dog tails

all binned

so that I can be true to myself

because whether they see me as I am

the first step is to see myself as I am

"them"

-o0o-

The Desperate Hero

the pull to save you is strong

that impulse that beckons me

to swoop in and drag you into my arms

and set you free

because I'm addicted to that

to play the hero's role

to save the lost and sad

regardless of the toll

when in truth I'm in need for once

I need someone to care

a kind soul to look at me

and see I'm really there

-o0o-

pearl one, stitch two

pearl one, stitch two,

today is a long day,

pearl one stitch two,

stir the cup,

longer than usual,

pearl one, stitch two,

stir the cup,

have a bath,

i’m struggling,

pearl one, stitch two,

stir the cup,

have a bath,

make a sandwich,

watching the hours pass,

pearl one, stitch two,

stir the cup,

have a bath,

make a sandwich,

sit in the dark,

I can’t cope today,

pearl one, stitch two,

stir the cup,

have a bath,

make a sandwich,

sit in the dark,

turn up the music,

so I won’t,

pearl one, stitch two,

stir the cup,

have a bath,

make a sandwich,

sit in the dark,

turn up the music,

dance in the dark,

i’ll just sit here,

-o0o-

When the anger dies

the anger goes, as it does
and I'm left with one question
Who's side are you on?
and I guess after that
I'll see if my anger was warranted
in the mean time
I'll wait
with my question
pulp in my mouth
and my anger sitting in the corner
and my hurt back in the closet

-o0o-

Flashback

herald of fear comes back, screaming
insistent that I remember things I'd rather forget
forcing me to the ground
hands on my shoulders
feeding me images of pain and suffering
poured onto my psyche
old forgotten guilt
dripping onto my soul
like tomato sauce shaken out of a bottle
let loose by further shaking
and the pain floods over me again
again
again
unstopping nightmare with open eyes
finding me in the dead of night
to remind me
that even after years of being free
I have to relive this pain

if I could, I'd stab the herald
and bury him where I keep the memories of the man
the man who molested me
so long ago
and I'd convinced myself over again
that I should be better by now

-o0o-

To know me...

You know it's not that hard,
to know me.

It's free.
It's easy.
I'm right here in black and white.
I'm printed right in front of you.
I'm open for the eye to see.
It's easy.
It's free.
And still people 'discover' me harshly.
As if they didn't notice me taking up space.

It's not that hard,
to know me.

Pick up and read,
Get to know me.
It's that simple.
All me, condensed into words.
Bite-sized-me for easy consumption.
I'm not an epic story.
I'm not a sweeping drama.
I'm not an opaque mystery.
I'm just a few poems.
A handful of verses.
Descriptors of a broken soul laid bare.
An invitation to sit down and see,
It's easy.
It's free.

It's not that hard,
to know me.

-o0o-