Honestly,
I’m glad I’m different
Because it means
That I don’t have to deal with you
Or your ****
Or anybody like you, dad
Because I’m different
I guess you
And your Southern Baptist friends
And your Catholic girlfriend
All think I’m going to burn in hell.
Well, NEWSFLASH,
You’ve been divorced three times
You’ve had four kids from three different mothers
You used to do heavy drugs (don’t think I don’t know)
You’re emotionally and verbally abusive
You have a ******* *** kit under your bed
I’ve seen the noose-knot ropes tied down there
Your girlfriend has been divorced twice
Is verbally, emotionally and physically abusive
HAS GAY FRIENDS
And used to misuse steroids.
So, before you try to preach to me
Why don’t you take a look in the mirror
Re-evaluate your ****** decisions
And get back to me.
Because I was born like this
There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.
You made awful choices
That you knew better than to make.
So, *******
About your misconceptions
Because I did nothing wrong.
You did.

YOU GIVE ME ANXIETY
BUT I CALL IT LOVE
BECAUSE YOU MATTER
YOU MATTER
SO ******* MUCH TO ME
PLEASE DON’T LET ME GO

i never talked to you in freshman year
did you know we became freshman six years ago?
it feels like yesterday.
but i watched.
i watched from afar, and one day
i got caught.
caught by my ex best friend,
and he told your ex girlfriend
and i wasn't allowed to talk to you after that.
i sat by you at lunch sometimes,
later in high school,
but you were always really shy.
so was i, how was i supposed to talk to you?
you're beautiful.
and i look like this.
those eyes,
they were a new beginning
a warm welcome
they were inviting and striking and full of fear
they are still like that today
greens, blues, browns
the most beautiful hazel
you can see the storm clouds when you get angry
or scared
or depressed
like when you remember him.
they're strong
and terrifying
and loving.
they're yours
and they're mine.

I keep saying goodbye
After goodbye
Who knew
It would be this hard?
I don’t want to leave you
You’ve all helped me grow.
You mean more to me
Than you realise
You are so **** important to me
You are my family
And I’m leaving you forever.
I love you
And I hope I’ll see you again.

Finally
I heard the words
I’d always wanted to hear
From you
Four years of waiting
Led up to this
Finally
You saw me
The same way
I saw you
Finally
You told me
You were in love
And not just with anyone
But with me.

Deeply engaged in another’s conversation

Totally emerged

I can’t help but feel like I’m part of it

Even though it’s not mine

This other world

This world where I can be whatever I please

The first Trans president

A wizard, a dragon, a knight

A poor, oppressed man in 1800’s America

Anything

I exist

But not because I feel

Or because I am known

But because I know

Because of what I am and what I am not

Because I can think

Ponder

Wonder

Believe.

No, I’m not obsessed with the thought of magic

Or being different.

I’m obsessed with losing myself in a book

I’m obsessed with escaping the hell that is my life

I’m obsessed with how it makes me feel again

With how it reminds me to feel.

and the wildflowers,
they kiss the sky
like the stars
kiss your cheeks

You.

You’re terrified of losing me.

Because you know

You might not ever see me again

After eleven days.

That’s the day

I’m going to leave you.

There’s nothing

Any of us could do

To stop it.

I’m sorry.

But that doesn’t mean

You can’t be strong.

It doesn’t mean

That you can’t go on.

Make life your *****, Abi.

You can rock your life.

You
Told
Me
You
Aren’t
Lying
To
Me
And
You’ve
Made
Me
Poetry

you were my rock
but i was just paper
and the school rumor
for that whole year
was that we were scissors
in the bathroom.
they got part of it right,
but we weren't twelve-year-olds
******* in the nasty *** bathroom.
we were just twelve years old
and using those **** scissors
to slice our skin open.
and you were a wet rock
and you ended things twice
saying i was just too clingy.

don’t
let
me
be
gone
you
are
all
that
i
have
left
DON’T
LET
ME
BE
GONE

my
skin
is
itching
to
become
a
canvas
once
more
shall
i
paint
it
silver
and
red?

My gender isn’t a choice

My sexuality isn’t a choice

It doesn’t make me a freak

I’m sorry if you feel that way

But I’m not.

At least, not because of that.

People are born as they are

It has nothing to do with how I was raised,

Because my dad?

He’s transphobic and homophobic

He raised me on that **** bible

He said I must comply

That it was the one true law

The only thing I need ever believe in

That I exist only because it exists.

I found it a little backwards, then

That he was so **** unsupportive

Because doesn’t that book tell you

To love your neighbor?

To love all like He loves you?

To treat others with respect and dignity?

Repeatedly?

But no,

My father, like many others,

Chooses to quote one mistranslated passage

One that was supposed to say “…man lies with boy…”

Not “man lies with man”

Not “homosexuality is a sin”.

But you know what?

If homosexuality is a sin

And gay people are going to burn in hell

Then at least I’ll be with my friends

My people

Those who understand.

I hope I get my own private sector of hell

Away from the ******* who abused me and bullied me and taunted me

My whole life

Because they don’t deserve to breathe

(Do you breathe in hell?)

The same air as me.

They don’t deserve to be graced with my presence

Or those of my friends.

I hope that my friends and I

Party it up in our little section of hell.

I’d rather be a sinner

And burn in hell

For being who I really am

Than fake it

And lie to myself

To join a bunch of insufferable know-it-alls

In what my dad calls

“Heaven”.

you're the ocean
and i'm so desperate to
d
r
o
w
n
.
.
.

i
ship
us
together
so
****
hard
they
ship
us
too

You think the stars are beautiful
But I say
They can never compare
To you

Watery tear-filled eyes
gaze upon her lifeless body
lying in the bathtub
pills she dropped
on the floor
she looks happy now
at peace
noises and screams and hysterics and tears
surround the boy
lying next to her
emotionless
holding onto her cold
limp hand
staring at her frosty blue lips
wondering where he went wrong
how could he have saved her?

You miserable woman
you fight against your children
and their rights
their health
their safety

you laugh in their faces
you expect them to be adults
when all but one are minors

you expect them to pay for a house
and bills of many kinds
when there's one caring for his disabled fiance
one is sixteen

and the rest live with you
those three aren't able to work
so they're somewhat safe
for now

but your two eldest have been more
responsible and mature than you
for years
they had to grow up real quick

you never cared for them properly
you cheated on their dad
drove him deep into alcoholism

you moved out, leaving them
with their lush father
claiming abuse
yet you left them there

you finally came back for three of them
but they're at risk, too
you never take them to the doctor
they've never received necessary procedures

their father died of liver damage
because you abused him
mentally and emotionally for years

the state sent you a **** ton of money
that is meant for the children
yet you steal it from them
to buy your cigarettes
and ****** boxed wine

not to mention the constant trips
to the movie theater
where you spend at least 90 dollars each time

you refuse to get your youngest the care
he very obviously needs
because your ******* essential oils
and "good mojo"
are SO much ******* better
than therapy

*******
your kids aren't disposable
and neither am I
I'm not ******* going anywhere

Snow, drifting on a cloudless night

The only light is that which reflects

From the stringed lights onto that snow

The air is crisp

A definite chill is in the air

Cardinals balance on icy branches

Fir trees rustle in the gentle breeze

I sit, and I ponder,

What is my purpose?

Am I really as rare and unique

As each and every snowflake?

Or are we all uniform,

Pretending to be something we are not

Simply to make ourselves

Feel better, filled with false security

Self-imposed confidence and

Haughty apprehension?

As I sit there

And stare at the children

Playing, running, singing

Wrapped in their tiny scarves

Small, mittened hands reaching

For their parent’s large, bare ones,

I wonder:

Is it our families who start to shape

The mold of our lives?

I guess it's
officially official now.
That gives me such a rush
and it's hard to breathe.
We are.
That's amazing.
Yesterday,
during neurofeedback therapy,
my therapist,
he said your name
and I crashed
so quickly
your name
made my heart stop.
I don't know
where I'm going with this awful poem
but I am going.
And that's all that matters.