cupid

I write the way life seems: each moment changes each moment's passed. and each tragic, quite romantic, delivery, death.

when i was then

i used to think i could fall in love with the world
simultaneously,
become addicted to cigarettes
and fall in love on a smoke break
at the same time
i no longer believe these things
though actions, i take,
sometimes lead one to believe
otherwise

you're an oldy but a goody

you don't know how to call me
nowadays, i can't relate anymore
i hope to god you won't notice, i'm changed
i hope also for you not to care
to show any kind of emotion
you pray on your life that i'm not damaged
to prove anything more than you're not
but it's so far happened
i stumbled, i'm there
still, i love you

blank, slate

cooling off fumes and simmering down like fire

skeleton bones

i always thought of you as little creatures
like skeleton, like bones
of a cockroach
and flew away my memories
to leave me there
and think about the moon
and how i fell in love with you
how everything one day
would never be
what it's become
and how still i love you
how i miss the middle of the night
and lying there
awake
to think about the bigger things
i always knew
and would hold back
the bigger things i think
i will forgive,
you are, i am
my biggest fear

between

we were both malnourished
but there was a lot of love between us
so in the middle of the night
when we were freezing
because it's cold outside and mostly
because we learned to rely heavily on
each others body heat
to warm us
and our smiles to linger
on the thought that the heart
might be broken
but falling ever so closely
together
almost as to repair
blood pumping
thick as courage
good as new

now's out of reach

she
cracks like a whip and
stings like pinwheel
he
sounds familiar but
my voice is too deep
high pitch, long stretch
far
to reach
they
gather, individuals
pit patter on lone
some roof tops
screech like car tires
coming to a halt
that else no one would hear
on gravel
dirt roads
those are the ones i chose here
just to see
different colors of my gender
on any given day

it took forever

It felt like forever
Before we found our bodies combine
It took forever to learn our bodies
could rhyme
And then we kissed
The magic was there
And wine and bombs
And worlds
Collide

i know

we've said our bodies fit together so neatly that
i don't want to disturb that
but i know
when i sleep next to her
i don't
with you i fall sullenly asleep
like, i'm too tired to care
with him i grit my teeth and blink
i think
to myself, is this real?
i wish i could kiss him
i remember the scent and sight
and the shapes of a figure so familiar
that's real
we're fake, we fake this love affair like it's golden
like it's ages
ages ago that we were still child-like
you are child, in a 38 year old mans body
and i am more child in years than you are
but still, got a grip, take control
i have to, put the brakes on you
in order to rev the engine up
and lead me home to him
in those arms, that i don't sleep
i want to belong
i get some sort of sick pleasure
from seeing you
saying "it's ok now,"
with my eyes
i can follow any one direction
snake lips split my mind from my body
and heart

before everything was single packaging
and romances went from monogamous
to open
there was real love, the kind you sign
your life over for
but i'm not sure anymore
what i want
isn't captured in a picture
of your modern family
but idealized in queer notions
you know, like the "weird" ones
that stuck out like a sore thumb
even 13 decades ago.

mills around the pond

i want you to know that i'm thinking of you
and i miss you
at night i lie awake
i think about you all the time
when i dare to dream
i wish i hadn't brought you back
instead
i fantasize the phantom albums of our photo books
and i still imagine i would kiss you
and breathe upon a southern glow

you have
captured me in the slightest of my movements
we shared something so common
so close
i could but feel you
i did but do you like that
did not matter
between moments of each breath
i felt you rub upon me
share my bed with me
and close to but kill me
like a last death
it was you

instead

It's all about the sounds
the spaces
The ways we dwell and think
Mind races
It's not about us
each,
individual tries to trade places
nor is it about whether we walk
with or without
reason
we walk a way
we learn to doubt

untitled tile

I love my poems
myself
my ink
My life is yours, you
like to think
My arms so weak or strong, me
meek?
How Mics and her
intuition, let's tweak
that
Mad
instead, I rage, with treason beyond
thou doubt me without
how dare ye reason

2

all the trees reach til
each leaf drops, it's death
do us part
blood reigns not one
hot pink as hers
lips quivered
I grew steady
held strong

Poem 1

I love
said the boi with the whistle
in bed
and lay still said the girl with the rattle
and read:
we cry, held the pussy
willow instead.

anthologies & freaks

I write in sharpie
poise myself as no one else
mistakes me
so no one
betray me
but "he" always will

anything's possible

look closely
in her face
you see a man,
you say
sure.

i can see anyone
but rarely do i assume
it is crazy
what a mind will do
can you
go back, erase him
see her
you didn't choose
but sometimes
truth is a choice
we come upon
like time
over centuries
rocks erode and souls soften

after death is the loss
to our conscious selves
we forgive and then
we forget
a little more, gives
he said, love yourself first
before it hurts a little less

and after all the longing
begotten
foreclosure
erasure
then we can be

coves

i walk into my bedroom
crawl and climb
rise above
the things i wish not to step on
run across
deny
i love you i thought
i think, i still do
but not the same
this town is not the same
and i am not that girl
she gets you now
i smile and suck dry
wrap my arms around him
when i say goodbye
and return me home
so safe in his words
i think i just died
rest easy here old friend
i'll always be me.

hi

it's like, all i want to do
is cry
curl up into
myself, a ball
and say
i hate my life

Chicago

It's like
every time I leave
you
is like
leaving a little piece of
me behind
the streets are so much
emptier
The pace is much more
slower
Until you feel the things
you no longer fear
The things I pray at
night for
to bring me back to a
giant lake's shore
Where I am beyond
much stronger
and yet so much more
much less invisible
Chicago.

bitter sweet

every time i cut into garlic
i think of you
and i always will
i'll think about the time we spent
re-running through the facts
like a split screen romance
and i'm your other half
but best friends
won't stick to things
like glue or partners with whom
we have sex

like an ax to be had
to this thing that you have
disappearing constantly
til somethings done-
until then, i'll be gone

love is

I want adventure
A sense of belonging
Someone to stay

Maybe
One day I will live in a house
in a committed relationship
without losing emblems of myself.

What extends beyond
reasonable doubt
Is it erratic satisfaction
that I'm after
i'm 1 big misunderstanding

sorry we live so far apart.

A Railroad's: nothing but a dead mans tracks

That's my train
the one that's passing by
The roads are all blocked

These feet won't carry on
so far
I'm waiting for SELF-
Realizations:
There is no superman

The boat I'm riding
has long since docked
I must start treading
for my life.
I keep repeating:
This is for my life.

this force

I am strong.
This is not what you think
it is but so much more
to the sport of being
a constant
misconstruing and constructing,
re-correcting of
Every - body,
Every - one,
else's
idea for me

That is not who I am
But will meet me
Some - where
between, where
some - one must
understand me.

They who misjudged me and the
moment-
This moment - I get
You were wrong, I say
but you heard me right
enough to tell me to
Stand corrected, remind me

I am brave - like you.
Braver even
Perhaps I am,
for who I am.

The "What You Is" Game - sort of, kind of (in a poem)

SHE TAKES SEVERAL SHAPES
FIGURES
WHO AM I-
TO DEMAND FROM YOU
DIFFERENCE
THAT YOU CAN MAKE
I MAKE
LIKE A CAKE- WALK
OUT
ERASE ALL PRECONCEPTIONS
OF THE SELF
TACKLE
DON'T FIGHT
WASTE
ENERGY GOES, PROJECTILE
FROM EVERY DIRECTION
SPIRALS OUTWARD
EVERY TRACE
MY BODY
(in its entirety)
MY IMAGE, MY KNOWLEDGE
I AM
BESIDE MYSELF, NOT ALONE
BUT I AM-
MYSELF
BREADTH
WITH REASON

I heard, one day

I've heard that one day
there will be world peace
this world of mass and matter
is just a matter of what would be
had it not been planned,
that soon it would, self-deconstruct
ka-BOOM! explode upon itself
until the universe as we know it
slips, from our control, and ours
alone - the world as we knew it, gone

the difference between things i've been told & what i know

you should grow out your nails,
your hands look like mine!
i look down like any femme dyke might
and the next time i see a butch
lift up her hands and inspect her cuticles
i might stop
who am i to assume your identity
but still, they see themselves
as their fingernails, perceived differently

like others, i too am skeptical about this city
but one thing for sure, i know from experience
why is it easier to drive around brooklyn?
and what if - he might marry! ?
what does he think of me now?
my mind is spinning around the facts
i cannot grasp, nor the reality of it
being that, he probably don't give a shit

but i do. i want to know
explain to me on these terms,
new, and not too foreign, yet
i am not speaking the same language
anymore, less straight, queered version
myself, i am just wondering how to see
that this life converges with her
history, tell me, the disconnect
isn't yours alone but that emptiness
that space, no filler, for us to live
honestly, we created this to exist,
separate, the what's, identify that's you,
that's me

for this child to live within us

leaving town you say
without packing up
i rush to the rescue
and verbal punishes
up on your ruin
sea creature
the beauty invades
her, journey inside
the depths of wells
heap forward, tread
the shallow waters
injustice is
a boys life is gone
in he climbs and falls
in, to examine his death
i rise from the bottom
from the pit of a chest
beating heavy though blind, slight
flashes before him
self-corrected visions
doomed in proclamation
for the faith that took
for me, he chose a direction
that forever robbed from us
the reflection of his own face
we willed, to commemorate him
ourselves, evaporated in thin air
all that divide us from each other
one, and an other, now come one,
come all together, one goes
tempted to meet this reflection
at the end of the tunnel,
darkness, as we found no trace
no sign of life, no beat, nor heart
survivors, our breath stolen
this child kissed life, one last time
first element then mineral now nothing
but the deceased we carry memory of him
though his body is gone.

what I used

I use to crave this
this moment, epic and tragic
all at once, thin air
cold, cold, city breeze
numbs me

inside and out
I walk, in strife
I wonder and wander
about these similar sides
on the street where I cross
imagine you walking
I wait on the corner
the crosswalk man tells me
with the palm of his hand
enforcing the law
no walking

so I stand, right, where I wait
and I wonder you and I will
ourselves from that past
long enough so that I may get that
one last chance to change
you, look me straight in the eyes
and I avoid this gaze with all my strength
I feel weaker, but better, I think
so I leave you

to the city sidewalks where one day
I am sure, we will see each other
beyond what we were, and I will remember
I used to want this, crave this moment
that I would see you, see me, and be
I, in control, forgot to
forget you, and now, I believe.

you can't make up

"where's your friend?"
i ask her which one
but i know, she knows
she tells me, "you know,
the one..."
and i nod my head, say maybe
but i know, she is right
says she's wrong, maybe
i shake my head, say "no."
you're right, i know it is
he, was, my boyfriend,
i think, probably
"it was" she said,
no, not anymore
why? [she wants to know]
oh, you know [i say] sometimes
people aren't always good
"you don't always know,"
i say at first
"it just doesn't work,"
always, she says
forever is a coming
i'm here, at home

truth of the matter

being, that sanity
though necessary
seems to me
that must be
what drives me
insane, and crazy
nothing will be
made of paper-
mache poinsettias
drowning, glued in
guns and re-born
again, dumbed, down
drugs are the anti-sobered
point of view, excellence
deals with what is
and what i am capable of
destroying, us
creation, barnone

layers

lacking, feels a void
the version that's shortened
what's wrong with shortening
how about that is fattening
that now this, is too long
and i've got to start
stopping, before i fill
the world in a word
described in a phrase
condemned, sheer emptiness

what's in a name?

how many times
can one name
oneself, again
what's in it
for me, nothing
i say to you
please, respect this
and i die in your eyes
that's the worst,
that can happen, might
have you forgiven me, seeing
for this is the reality of things

names are intangible really
they're everything, though
you meet me, halfway
you would agree
had you forgotten so quickly
that history prescribed me
and now i am signing, off
switch of the flip
turn it, all over, now
call me by the chosen name
i sign, over, i think,
and it's magic

the moment i live in
is nothing, and everything
at the same time, it's given
that i name myself, again
this time only, i reclaim it
this is my right, to exercise
i move around, the room
fill the empty space
with letters that spell
out, the records of the latter, me
spinning lyrical tellings, memories
on countless tracks, to foreign beats,
flow easy in one ear, out the other
i  listen to what this sounds like
radio, channels in and out like us
our history has a filter, too
it took only one birth, to speak
the child's name, upon delivery we learn
this proves our fate is limited, to naming
life as predetermined, how simply
i'll respond to what you call me, until now
decided for from the first day of my life

all of the ways this betrayed me
i've forgotten, how sad it must be
to exist in one thing, but to live
in this body, is a sole
other, being false portrayal - reasoning
that labels me one way, so i must
go with another that i choose
this, time tells us, nothing of people
that we've assumed to be true is one thing
but to think it won't change, imagine
this is our second chance, we have life
to put to good use, what one must do
is the name you are the staples we choose

since

the drama's dissiminated
in theory, the emotions subdued
and family members, children
now grown, it seems obvious to me
that this, a work of art, is a masterpiece
given the mold of it's body, full,
distinct in the ways we decided, for it
would have to be handled delicately
if ever were any one of us to recover,
it seemed there wouldn't be room for leaving
one another all together now, committed to it
because there was no out for any one of us
the blame would be equal, and we'd share this
a process, for which we were all responsible
this mess would take effort, with intention now
we cleaned, some things we learned cannot be
left to one person, or handled individually
that would be something else, other
the reality, a structure unsupported, deficient
already from the ruins that we were
poor, without any model for this to be based off
how would we shape this life, and together?
i started then raising my own standard, alone
i was an example, for if this would be ours,
a collective, we, then each must play a part
with grace and peace I carried on, my own
heavy was this weight, that kept
gaining more negative attentions was the absence
what I formed from thought, speculations and progress
set back, all of a sudden I find, I'm always alone, now
in my own room, also a mess, has dismantled this
theory was one thing, I practiced and believed that
we were in agreement, we would make it,
this would work, but I learn, in my discontent
that despite a disconnect from this, this sculpture is solid
seems that it works now, I don't partake
because now that it's over and I put my word in
you do not need worry, nor call me, and you don't
you have no reason, nor seem too concerned,
nor do I expect any different, another way it should be
half the time from which the relationship spanned, they say
it takes you to heal, seems I'm done caring about that one
to prove them true, yet, the loneliness
what has just settled in hasn't a formula, a foreseeable end
Rest assured now, without anyone, what I've built here
Was left in my hands, in the afterwards, for me to deal with
As I, the defect, a regret, what reject, you left
I cannot shake that, now I work alone.

Ugly, Morbid, Honest

I have faith, or so I use to believe

but lately, it seems I can't get it,
around it, or consumed by another
one's supply of it, unfulfilling, too
an offering of generous provisions 
I share in it, honestly hopeful 
but better I know, the sooner I can
remember it by the truth, as deadly
it is not tangible, in actuality, it is a lack
persisting, though more often than not
gets the better of us, our thoughts, so we feel
someone else must correct, redistribute 
what was and always will be damaged
but, I spent the better part of this winter 
cold, I vividly remember days, trying to 
resurrect the past, with my skull cap on
I was covered, already I'd forgotten that
in good faith, at the very least, I believed 
that, there was love
I watched the pedestrians, all walking
crossing my line of sight were those
I could identify, visibly passing by me
the gays, the straights alike, I sat 
alone, wondering still what I'd done 
or what I could possibly do, in my right
mind you, there but hardly any case 
for  the law cannot protect you
nor deactivate the bombs that explode
beneath your footstep, as you carry on 
the land, taking it all, in the brunt of your weight
all that you carry is a killing, the plot of explosions
that set off, a timer, the bombs, will lead to your death

two thousand and ninety nine valentines

If no one else, I will love
you can count on that
my love is true
I listen closely to that voice
looking directly into those eyes
I know, best, in comparison to those
others, whom looking at doesn't redeem
a sense of self, when I look at this face
blankly, without any expectation for this,
myself, I am but staring at a mere reflection
and it reminds me, I must believe
I am loved, and if no one else
I can, count on me

small seedlings

i suddenly remember
i want to ask her,
deep down i already know
and upfront, i don't have to hear
her answer won't shock me
or be surprising what is it really
that interests me
in these incomprehensible
animal-like, wild life
characters you sketch out
for us, built out of these stories
real life, it's the symbolic that makes us
and you, subtly, recreated this
into pandas, and tigers, and bears
oh my! what talent you have
to have nurtured this, still
why? why write it down
read me the story
from where it all began
creatures estranged
in a word, goodbye

Killings

so consistently, we've owned you
history, conquered a greater future
for you and i sailed the rocky waters
survived the emotions in the waves
we rode out in the face of their reluctance
to accept us in the mirage of people
passed like we use to, embracing her small
structure, physical and new as he
to me he's reborn, livid and fallen
succeptible to the same risks
her influence clutches onto me
like the bumps that uncover me
unwillingly exposed, even less,
to die in the hands of a ghost
with which she leaves me
naked and chilly, alone
for my own understanding went
gone, with the desire she may once have inspired
in me, on the surface of my skin
i am worn like bristles on an old broom
with which you've used much too much
as the means for which you swept away
that sense of self, created in our absense
our ignorance in the interruptions caused
in the ax itself we are killing her
in our memory, i really couldn't weep
for this celebration is yet another occasion 
to find yet another reason for my own erasure
deemed magical, the future sounds promising
in that i am rewarded, yet another round
i remember her, blankly staring into the nearly distant
not quite invisible history
i can't quite mourn in his presence, not yet

Erasure: This History

as i stand by him, i settle into him, wake yet again to the renewal
another years membership of waking beside your friendship
across the country, still freezing
in my stubborn resistance, in this city's north
i hide in this tiny studio, turn the calendar page
and count my blessings because it's February,
i survive yet another half of season
first half was the ending of my most transformative summer
and when i leave the city next month, it will still be cold
it will still be winter, i will still remember
that 7 months prior i embarked on a journey,
it began in Chicago, upon my arrival
and continues, the only difference is-
i  won't be here, and certainly i will go
with a bitterer taste, in the frost, of your Chicago,
of a quieter and lonelier bon voyage
than the prior departure from the city of New York
i'd rather believe in the noise and the company to be had
if the streets on the east coast are overcrowded,
then warmth must be something i can expect to find,
if i could actually take comfort in the close proximity forcing me
to share air with the thousands of people walking at once
among strangers to the heat box, i will share in the big apple
the experience of several others, at once
and i will suffer tons as i whisper beneath my breathe
cursing, old women and young men alike had a language
at the very least, in the windy city, we were in it
freezing our asses off and simultaneously swearing
overhearing one another without shame for the commonality
must be with respects to the words that we would use freely
how cold and how warm were we to walk among bare sidewalks
and white asphalt, colder air, briskly walking as several brave
the constant breeze that numbed my cheeks and brought out my tough,
only rough winters would excuse this behavior
and like i said, i like to be here and when i leave
it will still be cold, it will still be winter
when i'm gone
the streets will still freeze
and i will hope only two happenings for me
in the experience of new york city
there is still walking and there is always drinking
if i am cursing at the same time that the old lady
standing beside me on the train platform, in the cold
together waiting, freezing, believing that soon the train will be coming
and, at least i'm not alone,
if i go to the bar and i'm encouraged to guess the card deck number and suit
hopeful that it will be one that was imprinted inside the PBR bottle cap
and grant me such beer on the house, then my bartender will remind me
new york is cold too, like chicago and fun comes like swearing old grandmothers
walking faster than they ever did last summer, and cursing the days that
confine us in the dressings of coats and things and what is only a colder winter.

lucky for me, everything's changing

like a free pbr
he promises
he proceeds
just like he says
if i guess it
i win
free drinks
two in a night
not so far off
not so accurate
the first time
diminished any sense of relativity
significance
in the face of a queen
of hearts we can only sense
and imagine to have actually known
before i assumed her
penniless
beer caps worth scriptures
that reward me with this
free beer, poor mans drink
closure from the past
no longer haunting my memory
just in passing, this fling's
like my love, worthy and persisting

a how too

linger in the presence of all things lost
superficiality and severity
are the same things
that control us
when i wish only
this one thing
to be reliquinshed
beyond reach
exterior to my carrier
my desire to control
i let go, let go
letting the city lights glow
forever, the fact which reality presents to me
changing circumstance, lasting
an ever-lasting this
a hard, long, goodbye
with blessings my life kissed
and presented with grace

broken

like we promised
many years ago
to step on ground
but walk on
paper bombs, paper hearts
cut outs
a paper ending
fairy tale, worth telling
and in the final, princesses
meet their fairy frog
royal kissed prince

herd

i heard there be a greater moon
outside
i don see
where it be

post change

i haven't changed much
since seventeen
screwed a few
lest then i'd like to admit
clever as i seem
seams ripping
skirt tucked under
broad daylight
panties
brilliance, drunk at her best
the wheels keep churning
and i am still screaming
neath the better of you
you're best sex
running other ways
seemingly best of me

lessons i'm learning

how the sky
is not always blue
the stars
are not always clear
my direction, imperfection
and unsettled resentment
wasn't it a little bit poorer
when i was somewhat rich
why you can't take a way
with words that pierce
i am humbled
i've been wrong
nothings lost but
what reigned must fall
like the gaze of your eyes
on the tip of my hat
when we passed for something
unsettling and harsh
as the present
i bare on my unwavering arms
called to force
for the wreckage
and reconciliation
i am learning what it means
to be without
withholding
withdrawing
from your ugly
which i learned to silence
so desperately as one
always wanting the betterment
for my love
in return.

turns, for a new path

turns onto a new road
where i do not cross the same paths
with you en toe
on street
i don't walk in stride with you
but murder you
with avengence
poof, and you're gone

even this

i find
the books still unfinished
goldmine of a gift sits right there
unwrapped and scientific
fiction, the author writes that
it's all about the very moment
this one in which we exist
you're trying to tell me something
about the way life is
about this person-present-tense i am
well, 18 books collecting in bare corners
a countless number of dust particles
and some 60 odd pages unread
later
it catches up to me, all that information
that i need is really already waiting here for me
because even poetry, gets old
after a while

i am one too

i made a mess-
take what's been undone
anything else we couldn't take back,
to make up the trust you had
we lost.

true love

honey, drips slower
how it differs from blood
that's swelling, the pain
we take in when we see ourselves
in that burn, the hurt that was
caused by the moment this is
all that's explained is this
nothing else curls in on itself
but the death of flowers
the anthology of life that was
placed on the shelf,
where dust is collecting
til I come clean myself
and recover the knowledge of love
this is my self, the truth of it is
nothing you bring will ever quite sting
spares the brunt of it all
when you walk out the door
look in the mirror to discover
oneself is unclear to define
to anyone else I'm acute, I am kind
and she is loving and, has pride
her spirit deserves only love in return
and I am finding myself
while he showers her presence grows with wealth
we buy everything, now
assuming self worth is privy and prime, real
estate of the life only I get to choose
first, comes loving myself.

play on words>>press on

The Stop button
like the roadways are 
frozen, over.
you say,
since you've left
my muse is a carpet
my canvas, it's blank
a blanket
in white covers and
sea shells that depict
our story in cigarette shorts
that were intended and clipped,
becoming only ruins, on accident-
would become our ashes
and still, as the sheets are pretty,
we are like the streets
an open, icy, unsafe abyss
at our indulgence that winter
that harbors the crazed
only so many eat inns until we relinquish
from the depths of that cold
that which we couldn't
control, though i'd beg to differ
the bitterness of endings
and certain as i was to believe that
i would need be relentless but true
but i knew, even then that this city
though tireless, couldn't save us.

that's when

when the amber turned to ashes
that's when
i realize
people see themselves
so different
than i see,
them
myself

can't name you quite yet

this is
the fragility of my hands
the weakness of my gut
the thrashing of my blood

this is the signature
in my stance
the quiet of my lash
the angular inversion
of rash

this is the piercing
caused by tongues
the clenching pain
that's rough
the cluching of your arm
against the past

this is the outburst
from the last
that effectiveness of wrongs
the outdoing pulled away
with tongs

this is not meant to make sense
senseless, against your wish
here, a riot, comes the poet,
in quiet prose, not banter-
less, meaningless it was
all written, as simple, in poem

it's like

the three of us look for something more
like we know waitin on this track
means lately we've been having
to wait longer than usual for the train.

unfortunate interruption

when i cracked open
this bottle of shampoo
i didn't think it'd last
longer than this friendship
now all i have to say is
fuck me!
cuz i still want to
fuck you.

Gone Home

It was not long ago that I felt the pain of a narrative  ---   assigned female, my life has been a race for my body parts, to raise me beyond any heterosexual identity means to abandon this lifestyle and gendered roles that were ascribed to me at birth.

It was not until leaving New York for a fresh start in Chicago that I found a community that I belonged to without conforming. I was able to take ownership of my past, history and fears that still haunt me today as I tread through these snowy New York City streets. As I begin reflecting on my relationship to New York and my history that since leaving I've found less painful to dismiss, I realize that New York has the same potential for me, for anybody really and I must, if I will, confront this city as mine own if I am to ensure that others like me forge courage to build community.


On Friday I went to the bar. woah heterosexual. woah. Here goes, I think as I wonder how I will ever make a vacation out of this week.
 
flash back, get back, you can't go back to what were then- who are we now?
the questions go further but it's just been futile.
i've just been cruel and relinquish all control
chose escapism, and alcohol and pills, bet
you won't recognize me now
but you look at the mess i made
for who am i and how are you-
ever going to forgive me? i must, if i will maintain this and i must come, honest with
you, watch
as you fight for your stakes in this, claim me, yell about how i failed you
i already believe you
like i have been
ruined, irresponsible, guilty as charged
hurt in betrayals
what was this anyway i cry
but your sex isn't enough,
couldn't you have mentioned that?
you love me. before quitting this,
you realized how long ago you began
quitting me
hearsay tells me words are going to sting, bite at the temptation
lustful, desire me to take a knife in my back for what rings true,
to you, who say you could have loved me if i hadn't
but you don't, and i did
now i'm just wrapped in plastic and dumped
down the garbage shoot where i smell all the revenge
i didn't get to taste, that i'll never get back.
if i never get there -
back to the place of this play that tells me, i am unsafe,
i am invisible, i am unworthy and worth less each day. so he did it, he traced me, made me believe, in warmth of small hands and arms shorter than the length of embrace, in love, in co-existing both types. scripted sculptures of which i imitate with the gendered body that is not my own but belongs to you now and in the morning, i will wake to regret him. i will regret to inform you and i will be brave - i will protest what is at stake, my life. i will hate myself for spoiling anything that remains safe, quiet but these are things we create that we're willing to risk livelihood for. This is one love that I won't take and i grant you peace in silence though the solace of our existance as fluid bound is ruined in what the truth of it necessitates-
that i tell you even if i believe you hate me, you will not be back for me but you love me so i believe we will make it, and together re-build a mountain of trust
we cannot climb haphazardly.