Each twist (Poem #97)

Twist one,

Everything still falls lose and carefree.

Twist two,

starting to form something that may come out as functions.

Twist three,

you can see the structure start to form.

Twist four,

another step toward getting everything back together.

Twist five,

things are finally starting to look up.

Twist six,

I can see the end coming soon…this excites me.

Twist seven,

only a few more steps and I can move on,

Twist eight,

my hand starts to hurt.

Twist nine,

The pain is worth it because I only have a little longer until I have finally reached the desire.

Twist ten,

finally I am done,

I take one last look in the mirror

and secure my braid.

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The notion of emotion (Poem #96)

The overall notion of simply caring about emotion

and how other people feel

used to be a foundation that philosophers and aristocrats stood upon.

Rather than partaking in a society like ours,

that is filled with people asking “how are you”

but not giving a damn about the answer less than five seconds after the words protrude their mouth.

We simply disregard the importance of human emotion

which is the pinnacle differentiation of our existence

and place in our crumbling world.

We treat is as if human beings have to work toward us caring about them,

and must be worthy enough to even get the grace of a single tear from others when their world is ripping seems,

all that matters is that there is rain one the horizons of ours sky’s,

and our sorrow fill the air with the only availability to breath concern for one person;

and every time that one person will be ourselves.

Because being selfless isn’t a virtue,

it is an inconveniences….

And God forbid my existence should even shed a droplet on your sunny day.

Society wonders why we live in a world filled with people,

yet people feel so alone that their best friends become knives,

their lovers become pills and drugs,

where darkness is the haven that will shortly bring them to the point where the question is in the form of a bullet

and the answer is the gun.

Society your answer doesn’t lie in the pills or therapy…

the answer lies in front of you…

hell it is attached to you…

the only organ that provides life to the masses.

Society the answer is the thing we dare to suppress

by saying it is to feminine and weak.

Well fuck you society,

because those of us who give a damn to give a fuck about others can see,

the real problem is not that we are too weak as a people,

the problem in society is that people stopped believing the genuinely caring is actually a thing.

Because dick is better than boobs…(Poem #94)

A man walks around shirtless,

and no blinks and eye.

But if I show too much cleavage,

I’m asking for it?!?

As if I asked for these sacks of weight to be strapped to my chest?

I don’t see the world saying men deserve

to get fucked every-time they get an erection,

or getting cat called for spreading their sexuality.

So why is it that your cock gets put on a pedestal,

as if it was a holy gift from God;

while my body is seen as the temptation of the devil?

I just don’t understand….

Maybe if I had a dick I would…

The fork in the road (Poem #92)

When I look at you:

I see a house on the hill,

with a fence,

a dog,

and two little girls,

squealing with joy as they swing,

knowing you will soon e home,

and there is nothing to fear,

because you breath security,

Stability

and a guarantee comfortable future,

no bumps or bruises,

or monsters under the bed,

you radiate the world I have always wanted in my head.

Yet when I look at them:

I see fire and lights shows,

Saturday  night raves,

nights I won’t remember,

and times I slept for days,

struggles to get by,

and small apartment with the faint smell of weed,

an unexpected child,

who rides through public school,

was never handed the world,

and fell down,

got bruised, punched and kicked in the stomach,

but always had a rough, caring hand to help them back up,

it isn’t perfect or pretty,

but it sure is a sight.

Looking back and forth,

ti becomes very clear,

these are two options for my life,

but which one I want more,

I can’t quiet decide.

Genderless Love (Poem #90)

A man gave me a flower,

yet it still died;

A woman gave me her heart,

yet it did not fit with mine;

A transgender man held my hand,

yet it did not feel like a one of a kind experience;

A transgender woman gave me a dance,

yet she did not sweep me off my feet;

A soul gave me all it’s love,

and that is something I should not have to hide.

The theory behind love (Poem #89)

The concept of love is a very strange theory,

yet we find comfort in the idea,

of giving someone the power

to take the one most precious thing we own

and ripe it to shred it it til it is no longer recognizable.

Because in the end it is worth it,

for if it does not tear you apart,

it will make you fly.