Category: citizen trans* {project}
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I am letting you be privvyTo the conversation between meAnd myself. And y’all are choosing to take itTo say we’re shoving itDown your throats, Why don’t you shove it Down my throatSorry I’m just fucked up That you would care about me this much You want to ‘save women’ But you couldn’t save yourselfFrom becoming a transphobeSuckling internet points off…
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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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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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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 /…
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Dear Person I’m Sharing a Bathroom With, How’s your day going? How’s the weather? How’s work? Please don’t look at me. Please don’t look at me. I hope I don’t have to open my mouth to ask you anything, and I hope you don’t see the way my pants don’t bulge like yours…
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A 2025 response to “First They Came” by Pastor Martin Niemöller They’ve come for trans-peopleAnd I am scaredBecause I am not cis.They’ve come for immigrantsAnd I am scaredBecause my husband is Brown.They’ve come for womenAnd I am scaredBecause I have a uterus.They’ve come for the poorAnd I am scaredBecause I have no money.When will they…
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You were mis-trans / lated as a gaping ex / hibit, re / named as an in / decent, pre / determined shotgun— it was at the least an unpalatable transcription, not a predilection, not even an excavated truth; something infallible, a wiry gristly timbre. I told you: You were reiterated hauntingly unparallel, caged and…
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I held my son’s hand as he fell asleepthe doctor found a murmura day ago. I count his heartbeatswhile we read,one of my cats curls up onthe narrow of my back,like a tiny tiger purring into the stars.& what a time to not be drinkingtequila & elderflower.I curl like a flower on the couchto write…