pencil grasped in one hand

fingers wrapped around its core

grey strokes on smooth white skin

shaded curves take form

dancing across the sheet

instrument of art moves

faster, darker

the sound of lead on paper

is my love song to you.

Yes, I may be transgender.

But that does NOT mean you can treat me like a second class citizen.

That does NOT mean you can fire me because of who I am.

That does NOT mean I am going to peep on your children in the bathroom.

Yes, I may be transgender.

But that does NOT mean you can define my worth by how well I "pass" as my gender.

That does NOT mean you can bully me.

That does NOT mean you get to tell me if I'm attractive or not as the gender I want to be.

Yes, I may be transgender.

And that means I am BEAUTIFUL.

She makes believes her house has new walls and creates allegories about rotting foundations. In her mind mildew crumbles at her feat and the stench of disillusion is so thick in the air she cannot breathe. She has never seen these wall, but she pretends that there are terminates nesting in them. They come out while she sleeps and crawl into her ears, breeding in the crevices of her brain. They feed on her will. She calls countless exterminators, but they look at her like she's lost her mind. There are no walls, there are no termites, it is all in her head. The stench of disillusion is so thick in the air she can not breathe, mildew is growing on her body, it starts on her feat. She begins to imagine that the walls are stretching, they have created a labyrinth around her that she cannot escape. The termites are back. They are nesting in the walls. If she stills long enough she can feel their babies teething on her brain.

Her veins bled onto the page

Spilling secrets

Hidden under lock and key

A solemn song

Etched into these walls

Crumbling

Tumbling down

Falling rain

Slowly drips

From her face

Smearing ink

Staining skin

Hardened by time

Like her mind

That refuses to let them in

Though they are knocking

Kicking

Slamming

Trying to pry

But no matter how hard they try

She remains inside

A prisoner

Inside herself

I stand, alone.

Waiting, watching

Consumed, by the fog.

As the voices, whisper

"Come, come, over here.

We won't hurt you.

We promise, dear."

Taunts, of the imaginary,

Living, in my mind.

As time, steals memories,

One second, at a time.

Bury me in cotton

Steal my spirit away

Lay me in the cold sea

Rob me of life today

I don't want to feel anymore

Take these emotions from me

The pain in my head

My heart

My hands

Please just set me free

This blood on my face

Mingling with vibrant paint

Red on blue on yellow

Their gorgeous, discordant taint

I suffer in my beauty

I am stunning in my pain

But do not mistake

My empathy for apathy

For your judgement is all in vain

I care not what you think of me

Of what you say behind my back

Because a smart cobra

Will wait until your back

Is turned

To make its lethal attack

A soft little ball of fuzz,

You mean no one any harm.

But when most hear your buzz,

They run frantic, in sudden alarm.

Buzzing happily, you fly along,

Drifting calmly on the soft breeze.

But before long,

The summer is gone,

And yet, you'll always be

The bees knees.

January: Scream With Me

(Mudvayne)

February: Palabras de Papel

(Nelson Poblete)

March: Wasted On You

(New Kids On The Block)

April: Love Me Dead

(Ludo)

May: Bangarang

(Skrillex)

June: By My Side

(David Choi)

July: You're vs. Your

(Mac Lethal)

August: In Her Eyes

(John Groban)

September: Run to You

(Pentatonix)

October: Shut Up

(Simple Plan)

November: Oh No!

(Marina and The Diamonds)

December: Seven Nation Army

(The White Stripes)