it’s hard to keep upwith what i’ve already saidit’s hard to look backto make sure i’m not sayingwhat i’ve already said it feels like i keep saying the same thingscreaming at the same walltugging at the same stringsinside my memories is there a goalis there an endif i tear down the bricksto find the me…
Category: Poetry
three scoops
somewhere near my 13th birthdayi was in an ice cream shop in an underground mall in torontothat was attached to a subway station in a way that i didn’t understand at the timeand they were offering one, two, or three scoopsin a cup or a cone i asked for three scoops in a coneand they…
glasspeople
somewhere deepwithin the labyrinth where the glasspeoplehad found themselveslost in betweenthe there and the here i sat a whileon a molded vinyl chairand listened to their murmurings i could not speaki had lost my voicealthough the words swelled uppuffed uppressed against my chest i had so many things to sayi had so many thoughts to…
whisper
i had words beforebut i convinced myselfthat they were pointlessand so they wandered offand found another placeto play 04.14.23
deconstruction time
to becomei must first unbecomei must first tear downthe brickwork and mortarof a lifetime of pretense and subterfugelaid upon mecemented around me but… wait:it is easier to play the victimthan to account for myselfand tear down my own illusionsand rebuild anew deconstructionprecedes the becomingproceeds from the unbecomingand from that detrituswill rise(no, not a phoenix, that…
imposter
this is the part of the story where i tell youthat i’ve always known i was transthat i’ve always felt that i was differentthat even from a young age… even from a young age… that’s how the story is supposed to startand then unfoldit’s the scripti’m autisticwe live by scripts but when i was a…
afloat
afloatadriftclinging to the jetsamof another dreamfoldingslidingroilingrememberingthe way i wasbefore i becomethe way i amand beneaththese fingertipswhere the echoesglistenedlistenedredoubledretainedexhaledinhaledreleaseddissolveddissolvinginto the spacebetween the wallsand unbecoming and when i woke upeverything was whole again 04.11.23
interlude 1
in a corner of the labyrinthhalfway inhalfway outi found a chair by a table it was a green armchairwith carved mahagony legsand coarse upholsteryscratchy but invitingdrenched in nostalgia the table was an end tableround toprecently refinishedso it reflected the dim lightof the hallway on the table was a vasemade of depression-era glassand containing one yellow…
snapshots (middle school)
snapshot:my mother has taken me to the house of a friend of hers who works in a hair salonexceptmaybe she doesn’t maybe she’s on leave maybe she was firedi don’t really knowbuti get a haircut that’s supposed to be from a professionalat a cut ratebecause it’s in her houseand she’s not supposed to be doing…
down the hallway
after a half century of masking and denialautism self-realizationis walking down a hallwaywith a hundred doorsand each door hides another realization how does one respond to“just checking on you”in a way that doesn’t sound loaded?“i’m fine” sounds dismissive“i’m alive” is either glib or passive-aggressive masking“doing great” only works if i’m doing great and i’m not…