Category: citizen trans* {project}
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I rip the womb from my bodyas if it might consume me.I will not be devoured.I will not perform. When I return to myself,my love opens her arms.When I return to myself,my government slams its doors.I am unrealvisible only in paperwork,erased in waiting rooms. My womb, emptied.First, denied by the unseen,then released by hera doctor…
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You don’t want to ban me from your toilets because of my cockYou ostracize me because I am uglierBut you don’t even know how ugly I amWithout a mirror or your vacant gaspsI can turn my soft cheeks into the rotten lining of a dead goat’s stomachI can make my smile a vile omenI can…
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land of the freeOr thats what its supposed to be Oppressing all minority groupsStuck living in fear Doesn’t sound like freedom to me I’m sorry that i like girlsI’m sorry that i don’t fit your gendered ideals I’m sorry that i stray so far from the standard you set The standard that’s been in place for thousands of yearsBut times…
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What is the heart except the clenched fist at the end of the pulse? And what are the intestines But one long punch drawn in throughout my miles? I’m asking before they make the cut, just when the bull should bow his head and nod assent. Look, One head of the calf tells only the…
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the more I drank the more sober I felt so I stopped drinking. walked two miles thought about breaking the train, the lock, passed the corner where a girl my age sat and stared and considered her lack of options. what difference a job makes. winding streets, ancient city, dead riverbed, my mind meandered…
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My heart is an excellent mimic these holes in aching chest are jagged rocky / points ripping / spilling blood / rending flesh Hollow ache at the center point where softnesses are meant to converge suicide conspiracies of the soul yank at the stuffing until the calcification of my bones until my thoughts are…
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When I was at university, I liked to piss in the all-gender bathroom. Where my gender is less she/he/they and can be more she/they/it. When my therapist calls me she, I feel like concentrated orange juice, with the pulp sticking to the rim of the glass. He self-discloses, and I am thinking how do I tell him I am…
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one middle school friday night i cut my hair, standingin front of a diamond mirror, shapingmy image into something other thannine year old boy–the difference so stark i stoppedrecognizing my reflection later i hung out with my classmates, sittingon my hands, waiting for someone toaccuse me of identity theft. my future crush eyed metwice, and…
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is what i type shakily into my phonein the sickly white lightshamegoing as far as hiding in an incognito tabto search for salvationyearningfor something so natural yetsoforbiddeni am eve biting into the fruit of knowledgebuilding my skeleton up from one ribto become adamthe phone ringsrings“sorry our provider isn’t in today”
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clunky purple headphones are my safeguard are my switchblade as i swivel as i dart down on the way home from the bus / stop and think that i am worthy stop and think that i am sacred stop and think that i can do this am i foolish am i freakish am i /…