Soft dress

first touch of youlike the kiss of silky milk 

covering my skin 

it’s beginning 

I can hear the healing 

in my veins 

don’t look twice 

I’m sorry this is to nice

I’ve wanted this for so

Long

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Girl in the Red Hat

This is a tale, a tale from the past
A story thats told, and you know it will last
Listen to the words and you will find, that this story is in all of our minds

A tale that involves a girl in a red hat, who wears a green shirt and owns a black cat
besides her a man whose standing on one leg, leaning against a marbled pole that looks dank
the distance you hear the a sound of beeps, the scream of some birds and a menacing creep

There are lights that flash on and off in the gloom
the gloom of a morning thats not awake
like an old forgotten god whose at the bottom of a lake

meetings are coming, meetings to go to
opportunities not missed by those who known to

circles and cakes, people you meet
people is people who are at your feet

and still the girl who had a red hat, wears a green shirt and owns a black cat
waiting and watching and seeing these things, doesn’t move or know what they mean

and presently a Seagull whose a little bit bored, waddles aimlessly up to this broad
squarks a pertinent inquiry at the rosette crested girl
who looks at it westerly as if shes unwell

the seagull tells her that it is a man, and comes from a island in a very different land
and she doesn’t think or indeed move at all and simply smiles

for miles and miles there wasn’t one person who saw
the seagull and girl fly to the land of man of the swell

Ovipositor

– This is a poem about dysphoria I felt in high school and how it returns to me sometimes,
even post transition. It’s about my past, present and my future. Its one of the poems I have tried to get into a poetry journal without success. I search for feedback on how to make thing better.

0. Ovipositor

It’s like a ovipositor

It’s not one thing or the over

It looks like them

The ones who have made me cry, alienated me from myself

1. Wasp

I’m like a wasp

All the hive is buzzing

All of them busy grey things in this nest

I’m trying to be like them

Trying

I’m doing the same things

I’m wearing the same full body grey suit

I’m helping with this grey mass we build

Mud, it’s so perfect a metaphor for my life

I’m like the sunshine on this mud

Heating it, hating it, making it solid

Into more hive

Strife, in a hive is dealt with quickly

I’m not sure why I wasn’t

They did that thing, the attack

The strike

The clipping

I’m not sure I can fly anymore

But they didn’t kill me

Like all the others

Ovipositor

I’m sure of it

2. Hive

On this day

This hateful day

Our grey bodies

Ready to go outside

I’m stuck in hear, in my mind at least

Leave the hive, but not really

I’m still grey

3. Cave

It’s dark

Cliff above us to the outside

One of them

Those others that pretend that I’m one of them

They drop a knife

It falls millimeters from my head

Anyone else see it?

That I was nearly dead?

Nope

I’m told to take the knife back

All the way up the cliffs

Carry the weapons of my enemies

I’m broken inside

I’m dead inside

I’m never going to escape the grey

4. Hyena

I’m in the library?

Not a wasp right now

I’m a reader

Reading about a hyena

Vagina that’s like mine

I’m a hyena?

I’m not, but I am

My piece, my bit feels like that

On the outside it looks like

On the inside

In my mind

It’s not

5. Escape

I’m out of the hive

Not in grey

I’m out

I’m me

I’m no longer pretending

But how long?

How long was it before?

I was outside

Still in their grasp

Like a dog?
6. Dog

I’m trained

I’m trying to be them

I’m pretending

I’m also trained

Like me, barking, sniffing, digging, pissing

But secret, shhhh I’m not. I just pretend

I’m not a good barker

7. Ovipositor (2)

I’m not pretending anymore

I still have my ovipositor

But I’m me

In many ways

One day, one day I can

Be all me

All I want to be

For now?

I’m as me as I can be

Ask me and I will say so

Transgender requiem

I’m stuck. 
In a whole of my own despair

Punk? I don’t care what you think
I’m past caring and not into hating you

I’m going to have another drink

Or three

I’ll tell you a tale

Ha! I’m the fucking cross that takes all the nails

Of the fucking woe that befalls my fellow trans 

Excuse me? You know you’re phobic


Those people 

You know who they are 

The blood on their hands

What a work is a rotting man?

More that you’ve ever imagined that they can have

More every day


Instead of protecting us? They tell us which loo to piss in

Makes a good joke on the tv you know. Do they know how much it hurts?

Take away our very existence 

Apparently telling our parents about ourselves is paramount, but what if we never have a home after?

We have to hide ourselves till we finally feel safe

If it’s not our parents, it’s everyone else

Safe? It’s new we were we are, concerned?

They tore at my flesh with bare hands


I’m was so scared of the after 

“Burn gay fag, burn” they said. 

Hide, hide, behind all the closed doors

Give in and your dead

Hide, hide, love is the beast in the Pandora’s box 

Hope doesn’t even exist anymore 
Trees, my savior, my home, books my sanctuary, little bits of information my requiem

Hiding like a koala does, or a mole

Trying out little secrets, covering the secrets in spells, covered by rituals, covered by spire of spite, and never come to use it to fight 

It’s a little more like the little bit of light

The library, holding deep secrets, hide yours in it, keeps them safely hidden

Like your fate.


I ask you little one

Where is the transgender mafia?

If they existed

If they were real

I wouldn’t have to deal with the other ones

Them. 

Requiem, the company of our souls, for even they are cursed by these people 


Something incandescent 

You can touch it sometimes 

It’s there. You can feel it.

Like a blank canvas with no inspiration, you can’t find the words to explain.

You look at others. Your like them. You want to be them. You need to be them.

Every thing in your body aches to be like that.

Everything in you life makes sense when you image your life as it.

But they tell you it’s impossible. Or only bad people do this. Or that your not really one of them. Or you can’t be like that. 

Sometimes though it’s you. You hold yourself back. You can’t get yourself to be yourself. 

Like a tadpole to scared to be a frog.

Like a flower to scared to be a seed.

Like a cloud to scared to be rain.

You exist. You love. You feel. You even try. 

People want this person. The one you create. To be the real you. And you try. You try so hard.

Like a green light trying to be red.

Like a camera trying to be a photograph.

Like a letter trying not to be read.

But it’s their. Like the rain falling. The light switches on. The camera takes a photograph.

You can feel this. Here. In your heart. Down in your soul. Telling you. Wishers from a moon. First far away but slowly. Surely. It. Is. Deafening.  

And you try to hide it maybe. You try to makes it a secret. 

Failing.

So hard.

So worth. Your being. Your seeing. Life as you can only continue in a conundrum of being not the you that people think is you.

That little seed. You keep hidden.

You hide.

It begins to bloom. A radiance that slowly shows.

Then one day. 

Your the real you. 

And you think. Why did you ever?

And you remember how impossible it had seemed. 

And you remember you have so far to go.

But your fuvally stepping.

Like the path that speaks your truths. 

Pushing inside out

Up upon the valley

   ( Soft skin.)       Light taste lack.

Control gone to sleep

            Impulse hillside

    Making.          Instead of the night.

Wanting inside. Wanting inside. 

        Tougher was the strength.

Demands.           / Anger. /  Regrets.

Change and change and change.

     Touching.    

Holding together in the answers.

       //drowning// 

However

    ///feeling loss///  of the time///

Black noises. 

New time. Is it good? When, when?

Hiding from the same thing. 

      ///! Petal /// 

Orange juice.