You come at me with your fancy eye-teeth
all sparkly and shiny and pointed behind
your smile pasted there friendly on the front
and ravenous in the rear, hungry for blood…

my blood.  the blood of my desire, of my fire,
the blood of what I make, create.
I feel like a rabbit frozen in the forest
trembling in the cold black.

I see the bones hidden behind the flesh
beneath the blood, I see the lurch
of your skeletal undisciplined hands
as you tear and clutch at me and my tasks.

Why can’t you just leave me alone?

It’s So Easy

It’s so easy for you, isn’t it
just pull the rip cord and disappear
anytime conflict draws near

or anything that threatens
your lil cis-gender heaven
where everyone is just like you.

It makes me laugh how you stand
at a distance and make ooey-gooey
nicey-nice noises and cooes

that are supposed to tell me
how great you are and how
much you love me

but when there is even
so much as a fart in a light breeze
(god forbid the shit ever hit the fan)

you march right to the trenches
along with those who attack me
because you all are gender pure

and they are your gender relatives
and like must stand with like after all
and you might get struck or cut beside me.

Yeah…delete me when you don’t like
what I say (or what I am) or when
you don’t want to do the work to really understand

what I am saying, what I am doing
who I am…or just ignore me
just don’t look here and go away

Look…there are monsters in this world
and they want to hurt me, but they will
settle for you if you are in the way

I think you are beginning to see
that I am not your token tranny…
being my friend?

it’s not so easy.tumblr_nxmc5rLgC31ty8kogo1_1280


The Manse

You stand there, so distant, so stark.
You glower, outlined in the dark.
Your face the knife, my heart the mark
you leave with your hard stoney glance.

I look for a way around you.
A way beneath, around, not thru.
You standing there like hellish dew
or maybe a wrecking crew dance.

I need the trees, grass, the peaks
of high snow covered mountains and leaks
of stars, birds and wind, they all speak
of the Grace that grows, given a chance.

But you, standing there on one rock.
You on the sand near the clock.
Your words either silent or chalk
and your heart just an empty black manse.