Through the hole of an empty bottle

a rolled parchment paper contains

a list of past afflictions made

by the firstborn of our family:

1) I was born here, not there.

2) I grew up here, not there.

3) Problems grew with me, here. While I was wishing being there.

4) I went there and it wasn't what I expected.

5) The postcards sent showed a paradise beach, but when I reached there was just a blasfemic preacher thorning minds with verbal misery.

6) The giant palm trees were doomed, and so was I.

7) Nothing there to envy but the gone past.

8) Tortured minds of tortured children torturing cats and dogs and birds and strange coastal flowers.

9) Never ending heat.

10) My tears were vapour.

11) People stared when I wore long socks.

12) Forty days later there were still stories about plagues. I realized the plague were their minds.

13) Iconoclast slavery everywhere. I still didn't understand who that old man wearing gold threaded robes was.

14) Fifty days later I saw here. And she was plagued. Our children plagued, all but one. Henry. Our firstborn.

15) We both hid and were immediately found by the priest. Fucking old jackal.

16) The taste of rum sickened me, but the effect was the only reason that kept me alive for the following weeks.

17) There was a voice in the prison gutter. A voice I found familiar. My hair was grey. My hands were striped. The chains were rusty.

18) I escaped and found the beach filled with bodies, and the bodies filled with flies.

19) I came back to prison to liberate the gutter voice. It was Henry, he grew up as the only free mind in this island.

20) I was old now. But he was a strong adult. There were little boats. He took one and went away.

21) I went to the rum cellar again, to drink loneliness till death.

22) The bottle's now empty and there's nobody left to grief with. She's gone, her body's gone, Henry's gone and I'm alone. Me and the island, alone.

I rolledthe parchment back to the bottle

I felt weak as I tasted my tears

I remembered that now and then

I sometimes drink alone.

I looked at him once, and with just a deep stare at his eyes I understood who he was and why.

He was dressed in black with traslucid purple little round glasses. He was reading a large Schopenhauer's in a coffee shop. Even though he was three tables away I could smell his ripe cologne with tobacco scent. He had three empty espresso's cups in front of him. He didn't have a friendly face, and wasn't hostile either. His breathing was irregular. He had one sock white and the other black. He liked the music in the place, it was an acid jazz mix. Every time he finished a chapter he closed his book and made deep eye contact with the waitress. The waitress catched him everytime, and felt uncomfortable.

At the deepest peak of peeking, the man pulled off his glasses and stared back. My knowledge was vague by the void of his eyes. I started sweating even though I had cold coffee for a drink. The invisible line between our pupils standed high and dark as the universe continued expanding. For all that was made and taken historically, I found out that the cutest thing we both had in common was a lazy-eyed cat as a pet. The waitress brought him a fourth cup of expresso, and I had to go.

-In sixth grade I cried because I started to develop underarm hair. I shaved it, not knowing you needed shaving cream, and it burned for a week. I haven't loved myself since.

-In seventh grade I told myself I was skipping school so I wouldn't have to change in front of the other boys. I didn't, and ended up changing in the bathroom stall for half the year. Kids made fun of me, so I stopped and changed in front of my locker. Every time, I stared st the wall and hated myself a little bit more, lost a little more dignity every time. I haven't loved myself since.

-In eighth grade I took a trip to Washington D.C. to learn more about our country. Naturally, I had to stay with another boy in the hotel rooms, because a boy and a girl cannot be trusted together. The first night I stifled sobs under the bed covers because, however little bit of intimacy it was sharing a room, I was not comfortable with it. I haven't loved myself since.

-my freshman year was a repeat of my eighth. My band took a trip to Dallas, Texas for a biannual competition. I had to stay with three other boys in a two-bed hotel room. I cried because I couldn't even confide in my female friends in private, because I wasn't even allowed to enter their rooms. I haven't loved myself since.

-my sophomore year I told my mom I was transgender- a quivering fact I'd known about myself for a while. She'd always said she'd support me no matter what, so I was taken aback when she said I was on my own because she didn't want to have anything to do with it. We never talked about that night again. I haven't loved myself since.

-this year, now a junior, I wore the guard makeup for my color guard performances, and a lot of people complimented me on how good I was at cosmetics. I know it was a little heavy and i mainly looked like a drag queen- not the girl I wanted to be- but I felt beautiful and was ecstatic.

-this year, now a junior, I know that me being transgender is not a phase. It is a fact about me- like that I have brown hair or love Taylor Swift- and it will never change. I am not open or presenting, and I'm not sure I ever will be, but i do know i will do everything in my power to help other minorities and people like me.

-today, I am a closeted trans teen. I have had to grow up a little quicker than the other kids, but it has only made me more mature and more versatile than the other kids. When we're pushed down, I am the first to stand up. When we are abused, I am the first to fight back. And when we are oppressed, I am the first one to riot.

-today, I am trans. And I will not let you walk on my rights as a human being.

I'm tearing

Off my skin

Trying to

Find you,

To erase you,

To be rid

Of you.

Once and

For all.

But you

Aren't just

Inside of me.

I see bits 

Of who you

Are inside

Of everyone.

You are

Everywhere.

Weird enough to pull interest,

Weird enough to confuse,

but I'm only good like pinterest,

fine in concept but not to use..

Autumn always has been and always will be where I feel most at home. 

It's where a dull, grey campus can look a little brighter 

As I wander through the breeze and winds with a warm drink in my hand, 

feeling crisp, feeling alive. 

I listen to my professor as he holds his coffee and never drinks it

And I listen to my professor try embarrassingly hard to seem as though she's current and hip. 

But something makes all these things seem okay, and that's the prospect of venturing back into the cool air,

Taking in a deep breath. 

Autumn is smelling like cigarettes and my favorite perfume 

It's my warmest shirts and bonfires,

It's rolling in the leaves with you and 

Holding each other in the afternoons. 

October in the Railroad Earth is ringing through my ears 

At night I light my candles 

And crack the window open.

I stare at the yellow moon 

Against the shedding trees

We kiss goodnight 

I can sleep untroubled, 

Finally eager for a new morning.  

sitting on a porch

          in a neighborhood

               where i don't belong

drinking wine

          that isn't mine

               with a man 

                    that once was