coyotes dont believe in god

:
and when the lights above me 
begin to dim,
and the crowd of anxious people goes silent,
and they wander off into the night
to tread on with new memories...

i will still be here.

i will be here, sitting solemnly on the edge of the stage,
wondering to myself
why i haven't gone home yet.

i will stare out at the dark, empty audience,
just moments ago full of life,
and dream darkly about where i came from.

why the deep abyss in my heart has yet to subside.

the cold silence sinks deep into my brain
the beating of my heart the only sound to outplay it.
my hands beat with blood, my veins push at my skin
in an attempt at freedom.

they remind me of tree roots, though not nearly as strong.
i could not withstand the weight of the concrete slabs
a foundation on which my childhood was built.
avoiding large cracks and shifts in the sidewalk
but one day tripping over all i thought i knew.

scars sting my innocent knees..
and trauma resides in my eyes.

::

and then you'll come find me
as you always do.
you care, you worry when i don't come home.

you tend to this aching soul,
you stir a never ending breath of whispers 
deep inside my battered lungs, my bruised ribs that say,
"keep going".
but i only hear your voice.

i rarely listen to my reasoning self.
only the fear that resides behind.
i need the sweet songs locked in your throat 
to guide me home.
i am blind, i am deaf, i feel nothing locked in a box.
but you're still here, 
taking my hand as i struggle to take another deep breath.

i don't know how i managed to get that. get you.

and you'll help me down from behind the thick curtain.
you'll hug me until the pain subsides.

and we'll go home.

it's okay to cry.
it's okay to feel.

i know now that i am at home when i'm with you.

you will take my hand,
and we will embrace another day.

i admit that i am weak.
but with her i am safe to be.

how to let go

when i was little
i knew nothing else but
love for my mother.
she would take me bike riding,
hold me close in thunderstorms,
let me fall asleep in her lap every night

but years sooner
as i spread my wings like icarus
too close to the sun
eventually i became
her shoulder to cry on
we held each other up
despite the color
in our veins

when i grew older, and things began to change again,
my heart did not beat the way it
used to
a new rhythm
stormed through that drum
like the thunderstoms
that i hid from
in her comforting grasp
but wave after wave of overwhelming saltwater
all too much to bear

and i turned to my father
who seemed gentler
who seemed gentler
who seemed to understand
without making me feel
like i had made a horrible mistake
and my mother
felt to me like a time bomb
i swear her heart was a countdown
and i was petrified
but she just loved me
she just loved me
she just loved me
and i refused to see it
i refused to try
and its hard to understand now
why i didnt use a walking stick
when i knew that i was blind,
to see what was in front of me
find the bumps that had a purpose
that lead to something greater
and i wonder now
why i can never love them both
at the same time

i used to love my mom
the tables have turned again
i dont hate them
i have only fallen in love with the rain
now thunderstorms bring me solace
like a white flag over a battlefield
she never stopped loving me
he never stopped loving me
my heart holds too much back
like an arrow 
just waiting to let go
i want to be free
but they hold to tightly the string of the bow
holding me back
not ready to let go

and this body
holds impulsive behaviors
holds intrusive engravers
i dont need a tombstone
for a body full of blood

and i want to be forgiven
but this body knows no heaven
and i dont believe in god
but i believe in the eyes of my own, new, love
the hope that she has injected
into my IV
slowly creeping into my veins
as i sleep in this hospital bed of nightmares inside memories
trauma and shaking fingers
but she holds my hand in warm concern
she cares about me
something i have not felt in
too long, since i lost my family's grasp
for better or for worse

but of all the people ive ever met
i hope you dont forget me
your fixer upper
sagging shuttered
home

i cant write about being trans

i cant write about being trans.

when i do,  it either hurts  too much
or i get angry,
or my words wont fit together
as they rarely do nowadays.

i cant write about being trans

because i am not proud of it.
its hard to be
when people say they love you
but cross their fingers
when you tell them the truth.

its hard to be proud
of the thing that seems
to have ruined your life
ruined your entire you
eating it whole
until all thats left is
a carcass of bitter words
and anxiety ridden bones.

i am proud sometimes.
i am proud of my brothers and sisters
who are taking much farther strides than
i ever could.
who create fires under commands
   that consume hate
       and fear

but i am not proud of me

i am little more than
an exhausted, invisible
sun
on the brink of combustion

and my parents are ashamed of me.

my family now only consists of 
dirty looks and small talk
my eyes, are not windows
you cannot see through me.

i am more than just gossip
for your friends to joke about
i am not
a science experiment
i am not
confused

i know who i am.

i dont want
to validate myself for you

i dont have
to validate myself for you

but the anxiety 
that crawls out from behind your words
before a single syllable escapes

creates knots in my throat
unreconcilable
by a knife
by a sword
by the sleeping pills that drown my dreams

my body seems to work against me
in every attempt at change

i am not proud
of my nights spent in excitement over
testosterone dreams 
because they do not bring about change

i am not proud
that my breathing is constricted
in order to appear to be
what im supposed to be
but if i was supposed to be
i wouldnt be me

im tired

and i hate to be

frankensteins monkeys

leaking out of memories
my mind is full of tiny people
frankenstein's monkeys
whose limbs
are attached with string
and fall off
as they run around frantically
trying to patch the leaks
i keep 

forgetting
forgetting
forgetting

they are clumsy
and not very good at
their jobs.

they attempt to put the gears
in my head to use
turn giant knobs
make me
work
but in reality
that gear is out of order
the other ones are gone, lost, disappeared
the monkeys are just turning
one big wheel
moving my blood
just enough
so that i can stumble through
existance

my dog
is asleep on my bed
dreaming through a thunderstorm

she looks so calm

there is a tornado warning
and i want it to come
my life is a tornado
of anger and depression

the boat is leaving
sailing off without me

why do i exist
why
why am i here

i hate to be

they looked towards the stars

and when you look closely
you see that sunspots are mere
illusions that
the mighty can be perfect

another story

Love is melting.
Shedding ice
And allowing yourself
To be felt.

To be held, to be warm.

Love is puzzle pieces
Fitting into each others' arms
As if we were built to find 
Each other.
A feeling of completeness,
Of safety,
Of home.

Love is acceptance.
Understanding human flaws
And allowing nature
To take it's time
Every once in a while.
Never letting go for
An instance, protection,
Faith.
Trust in your love
That the crashing tides
Are not as close as they seem.
You will not fall.
You are safe.

GET ON WITH IT

GROWING INTO MY SKIN
EVERYTHING FEELS TOO TIGHT
TOO WRONG, UNAPOLOGETIC, MAYBE I'M
OVERTHINKING IT, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT TO BELIEVE
NOTHING CAN CHANGE HOW I FEEL IN THIS MOMENT
WAITING OUT MY NUMBERED DAYS THAT MIGHT NOT EXIST
INNOVATING ATTEMPTS AT ANXIOUS LIVING
THRIVING ON SIR'S, HANDSOME'S, AND YOUNG MAN'S, BUT I
HATE THIS
I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FREAK, BECAUSE I'M TRYING MY BEST
TOO LONG I HAVE TO WAIT TO BE ACCEPTED AS ISAAC