Why Do I Try So Hard To Stay In The Dark

why do I try so hard to stay in the dark

when they try so hard to bring me to the light

Amontillado.

I just to burn it all down

Set fire to the dresses

Damn the skirts to hell

Wipe off all the makeup 

Bury the clanging bell

You told me it was worth it

It all works out in the end

But the only end I see 

Is the one where I am dead. 

She fought so hard you see

To be who she is

In an uncaring family

That didn’t believe her

I don’t want her struggle 

To be in vain

But I can’t see her living like this

Crushed under the pain

So put on those trousers

And the green flannel shirt

You had some fun as her 

But maybe now it’s time to

Stop

Go back

And bury her.

I figure the “queerest platform on the internet” might have some tips so…

what are some femme clothing basics/essentials for a confused trans woman ?

How do I explain

That I have a desperate need

To be held tight and safe

But that I am exhausted

To the point of rotting

And can’t reach out to you

Any more than a twitching finger

On a half extended arm

So if you find

You have a day or two free

Please come, slowly, into my life

And offer whatever life you can spare

Or even just some contact

I would happily spend months

Safely wrapped in your arms

reaching hands/empty palms

Left alone with thoughts

Spiralling down through the mind

I’m so glad/proud you’re taking care of yourself

It still feels like you’re going to leave

I yearned for this solitude

I got what I wanted

I’m not reaching out

I don’t want to be a burden

Or be told to wait till it’s convenient again

You’re all so busy

I’m too impatient to wait for a free moment

So I’ll sit here silence

Screaming into the void

Knowing you’ll hear it

Hoping you’ll ignore it

Everyone leaves eventually

I think I’m some ways I was born to fight

I know that sounds dramatic so let me explain:

I can't sit still for long 

My fists are nearly always clenched 

I’m so hard headed 

It puts mules to shame

I’m mostly made of thin sticks

Draped in paper

With a wiry strength 

Born, apparently, from malnourished muscles 

I was born to fight

And I will

But sometimes I just want to cry