Posts
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The two men who did it all
Once there was a man
Who could
Do
It
All.
A man of many arts
The stage
The desk
The microphone -
it’s mine, not theirs.
note: this is not targeted at anyone, it’s just my opinion :)
Writing is my pulse,
my breath,
my way of being.
They don’t own my words,
my thoughts,
my voice. -
How did we get here?
How did we get here?
With a man who lies
and stirs the storm,
who turns hate into headlines
and power into a joke. -
squishy
There’s a squishy feeling, like your fingers
pressed into soft dough,
the way your body sinks
into the warm, endless bed of a blanket. -
School
School’s great. I *love* waking up early
to sit through hours of stuff I’ll forget.
Lunch? A gourmet mystery I’ll never solve.
Tests? Oh, the thrill of failing with style. -
River
We clash like stones along the shore,
Rough and stubborn, fighting more,
In every word, in every glance,
A storm ignites, a battle dance.
Loves
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My Oak Tree, My Hope
Nestled within the plains of the Midwest,
Isolated and alone,
Stands a wholesome oak tree.
Her dark, chestnut body hemmed in by the mucky acorns,
Those of which were shed out of sorrow.
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The Thief and The Author
Part 1 — The Thief
“Have a good night.”
“You too,” I responded dryly from behind the counter.
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Fragile
Fragile
We all hurt...some worse than others...
They might say they're ok, but they aren't...
They don't want you to worry so they hide their feels...
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My Coming Out Story
Growing up when I was younger, I was raised in a very homophobic, transphobic family. I was taught that being anywhere on the LGBTQ spectrum was evil and would send you to hell.
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The way to a man's heart is food, they say
Searing, frying, sautéing,
wiping sweat off my forehead,
crying because of onions
the things I do for a boy.
I hope he likes it.
The doorbell rings.
The door opens, he stands with a bouquet in his hands. -
Rain
I stand alone as the clouds turn gray.
I watch as the rain starts to fall.
I hear a roar of thunder in the distance.
I see a bolt of lightning a few miles away.