lifeline

saddened by the seasoned risks
we raise our beaten, neglected fists
for rumors made up, for rumors missed
for whispered insults, for fevered fits.
don your helmet, the ride is inght
rev your engine, it's time to glide
across the stage, into the light
to embrace the beat, for turns so tight.
i'm frozen here, you let it go
my woes are here, in bags of blow
so when i jerk, i have to know -
will you see me? will you take it slow?
i'm missing passion, i'm too high to dream
you want to pass over my goofy scheme
but i am for you! i'm on your team,
i see you, kanye, we on that ultralight beam.
i scowl and bathe while you smile and save
your dirty laundry for beats, gimme good seats
for the show you give, for the show you make
you will captivate, our breaths you take
as you spit with a flow, original and new,
never take no, always be true.

bitter

see, this is how it happens:

i keep my distance,
i try to keep snappin
you never listen,
you think you're lapis
edgy but conservative
you think we should murder this,
this sector of people,
you believe in your steeple
no one else is right,
not unless they're bright -
your mood, unstable
your empathy, unable
mesmorized by experience
you couldn't even handle this.
so just keep thinking,
and begging the question
we'll keep on drinking,
and i'll teach you a lesson.
a little something called tolerance
i should even bother with this
i alway find the downtrodden fucks
but i guess, without him, i'm outta luck

condemnation

the smallest meetings create inspiration
and though i'm plagued with perspiration,
all these types of consternation,
lead to stronger preservation.
without that strict memorization
you can't provide mezmeration
so those attempts at imaginations
will only lead to reservation

fox

captions clustered for flustered few
veering voraciously from vexing views
venerable officials offer offenses that plague the mind
as you swallow their voices, i choose to pass my time
is stories spun suspiciously slow as favors unfurl
savory lunches consumed, there can be no lull.
your tempting talismans try for trite
while my skeptic phalluses forbade the light.
maybe it's my destiny, this eternal rot
but the stars aligned, and this is what you got
your malice forgotten, for lawful means
my intentions unclear for duplicitous means
maybe it's your valor, that drives me this way
but maybe it's squalor, of fueling your phase

would

for times less forward, seize your mans
for fins less dorsal, i look through your lens
everything passes, time is left alone
emerging for the passes, pressed down to the bone
favor is won, but lovers decline
savory, for one, but tastes combine
two faces pressed, whispering in the night
muting harmless flirts, but tasting the fright
maybe we're lost, but maybe we're found
maybe we should continue this dance, round and round
suits glide easily, in a tango of delight
a samba of chance, a foxtrot of fight
the air will grind, our hair continue to curl
as we search for our minds, the skirts unfurl
withdrawing from company, we keep the pace
we're more than alive, we're more than one face

edging

time passes while dreams tend to fade
lost in fake ecstasy, in images forbade
swallow your hope, forbid your greed,
widen your scope, allow me to feed -
on your joy, your failures, your tenacity
your lips, your eyes, your fragrant phallacy
for days mix with night, as they often do
i'm lost in my slights, my broken stew
surrounded by people who yell when i walk through the door
i can't possibly quell the selfish wanting for more
so i sink in my pages, i swallow the need
to feel you, to see you, i only bleed
the distance won't hurt, it's safer this way
to accompany your thoughts, get lost in the day
work through the hurt, i now must stay
so to bathe in that light, to soak in your rays
what i mean is: i'm lonely
here, waiting for you
my attempts too cowardly
but this is nothing new.
soon, seasons will change
we're moving so fast
i've discovered your range
but i'm having a blast

run

message received, ya cheeky bloke
i'm sorry i smiled, i'm sorry i spoke
we must be playing a different note
both captains of each other's boat
carefully speeding across the bay
never quite knowing what to say
or what to yell, since we're so far
sending our vessels toward the northern star
the one that burns, that captains the night
embraces the black and fights the white
burning, effervescent, bathed in light
only caring for wrong, not embracing right.
pushing and pulling these tangled webs we weave
always chasing an angel while avoiding the dream
for we are brothers, we've been through some
some things that confuse and some things so dumb
and still we quarrel, in this place we can see
bickering over furniture, bickering over schemes
i still love you, brother, and your stubborn will
but i've come to rely on my own embolded thrill
we speak and we speak but really say nothing
and hope that it's important, that it's all worth something
but i become communative when i must be free
so please come home and embrace this destiny
for when tomorrow you rest, i soon will flee
and it may just be the last you'll ever see of me.

litho

i saw you today, with your eyes looking tired
and as i came in, so totally fried,
i wondered if you'd notice, see the gift you gave
see me strutting around, pretending to be brave
in the face of certain infatuation, in knowing the truth
knowing there could be retaliation, knowing it would be uncouth
to act on desire, to seize your body with certainty
it would cause a riot! it would cause a mutiny!
but the lust remains, a cozy embrace
of saving feelings, of saving face.
so, though i pine and wait for you
i've got my something borrowed and i've got something blue

ahhhhhhh

i'm beyond all that brunch shit

hey lil hostess can i please get a table
heard the bloody mary's good, don't be a fable
glasses on my face cause i'm so hungover
gotta get back to the frat before i'm sober
took a final, i'mma graduate in business
so i sleep a little, oh my god it's almost christmas
my mama said she knows this place just past the trees
where the mimosas are 5 dollar and there's credit card fees
she got the granny toast while my daddy got an omelette
she said to get the pepper jelly or i'll be filled with regret
i tried to get a table but the wait was four hours
so i sat at the bar and got a whiskey sour
people were polite and the food was so delicious
i didn't have to ask them to take away my dishes
i'm a real food runner but i toss them salads in the bowl
real food runner but i toss my salads in a bowl

in the middle of the brunch, please get off me
all the food come flying, please stop botherin' me
oops i  forgot the  grits, that's all my b
tryin' to joke with chef, please get off him
sticky buns, and a steaming redneck bennie
 rancheros, and a hot chick, and don't forget ya grannys
tell them that i make this food so greasily
but we'll never give up all those recipes

ain't no tellin' what i'm getting
At THE HOUND ay, ay,
at the hound, all that good food
ain't no tellin' what i'm getting
at the hound, ay ay,
at the hound, all that good food

fried brussel sprouts and a little bit of  feta
i can't talk cause my mouth is getting wetter
chef's got all these creative things makin' us money
you should get your steak and eggs a little runny
got the skirt steak, but we ain't got the chimi
think you need a laugh? just go talk to jimmy
that ribeye well done gon take longer than twenty minutes
so there's no need to check in every couple seconds!
when you're cleaning tables, you gotta look
at what they left
and the people round here they all stay impressed
 over the quality we give,
 some of the them obsess
 think we're really blessed that we're never stressed (HA)
 chips'll teach you about all the abnormalities
 got a question, go to clint about the allergies
 you know that shrimp and grit got that andouille
 celery and valentinos on that fried pork belly



bison burgers with the tasty swiss cheese
and that chicken fried with that broccolini
yeah i know you love that pimento cheese
but you really came for that broccolini
come watch the games on the tvs
auburn loses but we still in the lead
the hound's in the lead cause that broccolini
this party's dope, shout out to ya boy matt p!

churn

The only thing missing is a lighter.

Well, some of the substances have been consumed, as well. Time has sufficiently passed, experiences and stories shared with each other as if to prove that they existed. Regret isn't the right word for it but it's close enough.

Leo doesn't feel sorry. He isn't upset nor is he frustrated. He's only tired of it all, and wants to fall away into the abyss. Instead of dealing with the aftermath, of planning what to do next, he wants to move forward as if nothing has happened. He wants to pretend he didn't make a stupid choice.

He's not sure how to progress. He'll try, though.

suddenly

He crunches hundreds of leaves as he growls at the sidewalk. This wasn't his fault, right? What else could have been expected for him to do? This is exactly what anyone else would do...right?

His hands are stuffed in his pockets, as if squeezing his phone will somehow stop it from continously ringing, that silly, nerdy ringtone that he had permanently installed, without permission.

He rounds the corner, lost in thought, straight into another body. Leo finds himself falling back (not because he's physically inclined to do so but out of surprise) and starts to apologize as he catches sight of a pair of warm, honey colored eyes that seep empathy.

"Oh, no problem at all, man." Leo takes careful notice of the blond manbun. The other man's voice is warm with a bristling edge that intrigues Leo. "It's not like I was paying attention either." Leo's mouth forms into a smile before he can stop himself, glancing down at the map in the other man's hands.

"Are you lost?" Leo blurts out increduously - not because he's surprised someone got lost but because the man is holding a physical map, something he hasn't seen in real life in years. Who still used those to get around?

The pale man laughs good naturedly, beginning to fold the map up. "No, no, nothing like that. My dad left me with a map to all of his buried treasures." He grins sheepishly at Leo's puzzled look. "It sounds weird but he was a cartographer and I think he left this as his legacy, some way to pass down his passion to me in hopes that it'll awaken some genetic code in me to do what he did and what his father did. I think he's trying to prove that it's still relevant and all we need is to - " He pauses and brings his eyes back to Leo. "Sorry...Quinn." He holds a callused hand out.

Leo takes it without thinking, giving a short shake. "Leo." He responds, letting the silence that falls between them settle before he slyly tilts his head. "Too bad his son wants to be a pirate, am I right?" He jokes awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Quinn blinks twice and then a bark of a laugh escapes his mouth, followed by low chuckling. "That's right, I'm too busy searching for booty to follow a map." He gives Leo a quick wink and begins unfolding the map again. "I gotta get back to treasure hunting, Leo, but thanks for reminding me of what's most important." He's already beginning to back away.

Leo can feel his face flushing from the wink. He smiles shyly and fiddles with the zipper of his jacket. "If you ever need a first mate, I'm working that pirate life at the taco shop on campus. I'm a great swimmer so I can help you when you fall overboard!"

Quinn's grin threatens to split his face and he almost falls into the intersection as he stumbles backward. "Bon voyage, Leo!" He blows a kiss.

endless

She calls, today, to wish Leo a happy birthday. "Here's to twenty-seven more!" Only in his wildest dreames would he die that soon - most days felt like an endless tango into the great unknown, but you never actually get to see the face of the person who's leading you. They hold your hand and stride confidently across the dance floor but you never get a close enough look.

She wants to know how he's been. She wants to know if he's still in school, if he's still in college. Is he persuing his truest dream? Does he really feel satisfied, or is he just settling? Does he still talk to his mother? Has she provided any advice? She's probably right  - mothers know best. He's rolling his eyes - it's all for show, they both know they want to get down to the nitty gritty of their mutual connection.

"I saw him flirting with someone else today."

"Oh yeah, I noticed that too. I wouldn't worry too much about him."

"Him, like, Austin? Or him like - " She pauses for a long time, and it almost comes out in a whisper - " Another guy? "

The responding pause goes on much longer than it should.

"Well, that's ... good. Right? It's good that he's moving on?"

Leo hesitates, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Yeah, progress is always good."

"It's not like..you want him to come back...right?"

"Right." The response is immediate, practiced. "It's better this way, we're two very different people. He's got stuff to figure out and I....I need time alone."

"You can lie to yourself, Leo, but don't you dare lie to me. We've known each other too long for that."

He sighs, exhaling the plume of smoke. "Yeah, okay. I'm just...confused. One minute he's sniffing around me, joking about getting back together and the next minute he's flirting with some redhead barista about coffee grounds. I don't care, I just want a straight answer."

"You and I both know we'll never get a straight answer out of him. That boy was born queerer than a three-dollar bill."

"Yeah, well, I'm about to take that bill to the bank to make some change. " His voice is bristling, teetering on the edge of being upset.

"I don't understand why you don't get another job. Isn't it weird to see him every day?" Leo can hear low crying start up in the background.

"It would be weirder if I didn't see him, if I'm being honest with you. At least I can keep up with him, make sure that he's doing okay. I'm afraid to leave because..you know...what if that's the end?"

There's a long pause and he can hear her picking up the baby, can hear her soft chortling through the phone as Valorie balances her attention between his fragile ego and the miracle of life.

"Honestly, Leo, would that be so bad? You literally just said progress is always good. Maybe it's time to shut this door. Open the window, all that stupid cheesy shit."

Leo takes another long drag from his cigarette. "Only time will tell. Thanks for listening, Val. Give Jillian a kiss for me."

"I will, sweetie. Thanks for finally answering the phone, you spastic boy. I hope you have a happy birthday, Squish."

He puts out his cigarette as he ends the call, staring up as the wind whipped the trees back and forth.

target

Sometimes, he looks at missed connection ads. He hopes that there's someone out there looking for him. The possibilities are endless. They could have seen him walking to work. They could have stood behind him in the grocery store. They could have bumped into him at the bar, said a quick sorry, and ran away.

He searches, not for random synchronicities of the universe, but for him.

He stands in the shower, hot water searing his back as he scrolls through the anonymous ads. There's a weird part of him that enjoys seeing the pain that others feel, that aching reach into the abyss of regret. So many names, so many stories that Leo can't begin to fathom. So many experiences that have been forgotten or mislead or display desperation for getting dicked down.

Wouldn't it be nice, he thinks, while standing in his own filth, too disgusted by his physical body to even wash it, to stumble across a message meant for his eyes only. 

fill

He steps outside for a quick smoke, something to break the monotony of a day off. He should be relaxing. He should be reading. He should be doing all the chores that he's been avoiding.

Instead, he looks up that profile.

He stares into the eyes of someone he once thought he knew. No updates, as per usual. Austin had never been much of a social media person - an article about windmills here and a casual happy birthday there. That didn't stop Leo from constantly checking for something, anything that might indicate where he was, what he was doing, who he was with.

Dead eyes stare back at him. Nothing new.

He puts the cigarette out.

limbo

"this is the time, this here, this now. it's now or never. you can't go back from this moment, you will only move forward. you will persist. you will grow. even if he doesn't respond, what matters is that it got made. what matters is that it's out there...in the cosmos. i can only control what energy i put into the universe and the rest will work out. i leave this up to you. this is not my fight, i am only a spec in the grand scheme and i claim only this present moment, i seize it in your name and i can only hope for your blessings on this neglected union. grace me with your favor, bastet, and allow me to always walk with you."

A white-haired woman wobbles by, carrying a stack of seasonly wrapped presents, staring at the young black man talking to a mailbox.

-----

intrux

Without pain, there can be no progress.

 ------------

"It's okay, man, I understand what you're going through. It's all gonna work out."
"That guy was so weird! Don't even worry about it, you dodged a bullet with that one."
"You can do better, don't stress out about it."

Worrying was all that he could do. Worrying was what kept him alive. Worrying was a way of telling himself that he cared. He knew it wasn't healthy to constantly be wondering where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. He also knew it wasn't healthy to spend hours imagining them curled up under a blanket, rubbing each others' thighs while a long-forgotten tv show played in the background, an auditory ambience for their hours of ambiguous love-making...

"...-nard. Leonard, honey... Leo! Leo!"

A voice chips into his ear as he blearily blinks awake, drool bubbling up at the corner of his mouth. She's leaned over, snapping red-polished fingernails in his face and he gets a generous view down her shirt, though he's too tired to actually appreciate it. She seems to notice his gaze too and hastily steps back, pulling her dark blue blazer tight over her chest.

"The dean will see you now." Her tone is curt but he can see the blush creeping up her round cheeks. He stands, smirking down at the uptight redhead.  He gives her a quick once-over and turns to open the office door.

"Thanks, Miss Jenkins." His voice is deep and, though she can't see his face, she can hear the laughter in his voice and puffs up.

"That's Mrs. Jenkins to you, Leo!"

He casts warm brown eyes over his shoulder to give her a lazy wink. "We'll see about that."

He's laughing as he opens the door to the dean's office, closing off her irritated squawks as he steps inside. The dark green walls are covered with accolades and certificates while juxtaposed next to pictures of dogs in top hats and framed pictures of the dean juggling bowling pins. The tall black man sitting in front of Leo watches him, chin perched on top of his hands in pensive thought.

"Have a seat ... Leo."

"That's Leonard to you." He instinctively snaps, as he pulls out the plush chair in front of him and carefully lowers himself down. He perches on the edge of the seat, trying not to get comfortable. He'd told himself not to go back to this office. He'd told himself he was worth more than this. "Listen, if this is about the water fountain in the gym, I swear I didn't do it on purpose. Bobby said it couldn't be done and I just had to prove him wrong, you know how he is, and I was gonna put it right back but a professor was coming and I -"

"Relax, pup, that's not why I called you in here." There's a quick lick of his lips as his eyes briefly cast to Leo's chest then back up. "Though maybe it's good that you're pursuing your artistic talent, since it seems your plumbing skills are clearly subpar." Leo's eyes get wide for a minute as the balding older man smiles at him goofily.

"O...kay. Then...what did you call me in here for?"

"Up until recently, you were doing quite well. Your grades were improving, your job was going well, and you're certainly a sight to watch on the court. Then, you know, you fought through some really intense stuff and came out so much stronger, and I fully support you but something...changed. You aren't...yourself anymore, if that makes sense."

Leo's jaw is already setting. He's chewing on the inside of his mouth as he gets the gist of how this conversation is about to go down, like the dozens of other ones he's had with people too dumb to understand. Well, most of them had been too dumb to understand - he was still surprised every day at the growing number of people that simply did their research and came back to him with tact and grace. Leo can already tell this will not be one of those conversations.

"...well, sir, if I'm not acting like myself then who am I acting like?"

The dean of students glares at the stubborn figure seated across from him, running his tongue against the front of his teeth. Leo can tell the older man is annoyed and simply smirks when he narrows his eyes.

"What I mean, is that you seem to be acting out more. You aren't as ... reliable as you used to be. Your father is worried about you. Your professors are worried about you. I...I'm worried about you." He reaches a hand across the desk to try to fill the space they both feel growing between them. Leo jerks his hand back before he even gets close.

"Since when?" Leo's voice has finally bubbled out, breaking the tension that had uncomfortably settled on the surface. "Since when have you been worried about me? Since when has anyone been worried about me? Was it when your wife came home early and I had to actually babysit your kids, just to cover us up? Or maybe it was the time I demanded off-campus students had to pay for parking too because it's literally the fair thing to do? Or maybe it was the time that we got caught doing it in a park and when the cops showed up, you ran like a coward while I had to go to jail because you also grabbed my clothes in your hasty get away? No - wait, it cannot be that you nor the administration really care about me because if you did, there wouldn't be hundreds of bullshit problems popping up around the school all day whose problems never get solved, just the symptoms because the principal has you following him like a dumb dog to pick up his messes. Surely you're too busy with your nose up his ass to give a shit about me, but don't you fucking worry, I am doing fantastic by myself." His voice has cooled to a simmer, as he already knows just how thin these walls can be.

During this rant, the dean has dismounted his chair and strolled over to the window, staring out at the rain that thunders down, overwatering the petunias he'd just planted outside his window. He's watching them drown in a pot too small, his moustached lips turned down into a frown. He turns when Leo is finished, dark eyes gleaming down at the chubby boy who stares defiantly back.

"I just... I really miss you ... Lillian."

Leo's breath catches in his throat at the name and actually recoils, falling back into the overstuffed cushion of the chair. Anger radiates off of him in thick waves, his blood is boiling and making sweat pool up under his backwards-turned hat. He abruptly stands up. He has to get out of here before he says something he'll regret.

"Go fuck yourself, Bradley."

-----

blah blah blah quits school, is depressed for a while, gets a job - there's a lotta flashbacks to the lover he lost - idk how he lost him yet but they ain't together no more - it's a job he's never done b lah blah exposition, get to know leo more blah blah, finds his will to live while he's living alone but then o no that old lover comes back gasp what happens next i have no fuckin idea

i sent you a letter this week.

i shouldn't have, i know, but i couldn't resist. as creepy as it'll seem, i also hope that you think it's sweet. i want you to realize how much i miss you and know, just know, that i still love you more than anything in this world.

fuck, it sounds so much creepier out loud.

as sampha said: i messed up, i know now.

i knew it as soon as i sent it. i knew it would change everything, i knew my life would spiral into this hypnotic feed. this hellacious give and take with people i don't trust.

if you don't trust someone, are they really your friend?

the pattern repeats itself: i have coworkers who care but no one who knows. no one who actually gets me, from the core out. mike thinks he does.

he's really convinced that he knows me.

i share a lot of things with him and he shares a lot of things with me. the difference, i think, is the depths at which we share.

my point is: he's the only one who knows even half of what you do. everyone else i keep balanced, poised for perfection so i know exactly what reaction i will get from each and every one of them.

a very delicate puppet show, one where my strings are also being pulled but by a darkened shadow instead of a human.

if you've never seen princess tutu, you should give it a shot.

it's exactly what it sounds like.

i'm sitting here, thinking about you and wondering where you are.

i cut my finger five minutes before being done with yet another work shift. i can't remember how many days it's been but i know it's almost a year.

one year and ten days ago, you sent me a message out of the blue which both elated and terrified me. i didn't know where you had been nor what you were saying, all i know is that i saw your face pop up on screen.

your picture, however, was not the bright-eyed hopeful young man that i had fallen in love with. it was a sunken despair of a skull, a short buzzed cut instead of your bouncy curls. 

i waited to look at your message, allowing myself a little time to run around freaking out. i wanted so badly to know where you had been, what was going through your head. 

i remember being a kid, getting my finger poked for a simple test. the doctor secured the bandage over the top of my finger and i pouted. i said i wanted it wrapped around. she assured me this wouldn't stop the bleeding. later, when my mom was changing the bandage, i told her the same thing. she argued with me for a minute before giving in and letting me afix the bandage around, almost completely avoiding the wound. 

you tell me that you've been in rehab. you thank me for the birthday wishes. you ask how i'm doing. i could say anything. i'm at work, where i normally leave my phone sitting somewhere. passion and morale have been dying very shrlly, very steadily, and i have my phone in my pocket for any potential attention. i want so badly to be wanted that i compromise my work ethic. i could tell you i'm doing well, i could lie. i could tell you how terrible it feels to live without you. i could tell you i miss you.

instead, i choose to say you didn't need rehab. which, honestly, if that doesn't describe how i treated you to a T, then i don't know what will.

i don't deserve another chance with you. i don't deserve you but that isn't gonna stop me from trying it should but for once, i'm not listening to my gut. it's led me wrong before and i don't doubt the possibility of it leading me astray from the original outreach project.

but sending a love-ladened playlist in the mail when i sent a playlist to break up with you is both too obvious and also just as lazy?

---

well, i did it. i sent you a playlist. in the mail. with a cd. with a cheesy card.

famously forgotten by younger tweens
anxiously arriving at angled screens
too stimulated to hold conversation,
we stand justified, for condemnation
forever caught up in the internet
our bold attention you can never get.
they mock us, for dismal distraction
but all of our parents are just the same
solitaire, news, the bible, the murders
they swallow the media but never care
to search inward alone, to better themselves
just placing the blame on some one else
we're stuck in an a.d.h.d. society
focused on lgbt propriety
but we're never gold, we never leave
our pride, from us, you'll never seize
what we do in the bedroom is news to you
something you judge, something askew
what i know now is something new:

------
rant
------

i'll never ever be one of you
so sad and lost and always fake
so mad in lust, you only take
what you want for yourself,
what you need for you
to put up on a shelf,
to never use.
you collect and you stare and you pick apart
anything not your's, when did you start?
was it when you were young,
and didn't get your way?
threw a dumb tantrum,
on the ground you lay -
beating and crying on what's most stable
the ground, the earth, on childrens' fables
you toss and you turn, unacble to accept
that you just can't, and so you wept
and your parents gave in,
let you have that dumb toy
that you enventually forgot about,
that discarded joy
but it's because they gave in!
it's because you got to learn
that if you cry hard enough
that no will slowly burn
simmer down the lowest setting
and you can always get by
without having a wedding
you'll push and you'll prod
til they eventually say yes
and you'll fuck and you'll take
until you think you're the best
but i know something that you don't
is that when you think you're all set,
you most surely won't
be able to look back, with no hint of regret
because you'll know the wrongs you did,
you'll remember the eyes' you've wet
all because those fake crocodile tears
let loose in that walmart,
in the very back, all those years
spent lying and stealing and stepping on toes
cause you couldn't stay calm
when faced with your woes
you lashed out and hurt
whoever you saw
whoever wouldn't listen
to your side of the law
and though you may be rich
and buy whatever you want
you'll never be missed
by the items you flaunt
so seeking out fame for material alone
will always end poorly,
you'll always cast the first stone
cause you based your experience
on a time long ago -
if only you whine louder,
you'll never have to reap what you sow

i wait instead of wallowing
i spit instead of swallowing
i stand instead of cowering
i spin instead of slandering
i worry instead of angering
i slur instead of banging
i wash instead of stinking
i swim instead of sinking
i smoke instead of eating
i eat instead of feeding
i rock instead of rolling
i bid instead of folding
i am here instead of there
and it is here that i no longer stare
waiting for a day to see you again
i'm not waiting for life to begin
i will give, i will grow, i will stand alone,
i will feel, i will deal, i will regrow

draft

first of all - most trans people do not want to talk about their dead name. i think this is the most ignorant shit i have ever seen y'all do. you mean to tell me i have decided to trust you with this information that is not even your right to know for anY reason, something that i have been living with my entire life and have trusted to share the very bare minimum with you and your first question is asking me to produce the name that i have chosen to not go by anymore, as if it will somehow change anything about our current relationship. what do you gain? what do i gain? I get to say a name that i've heard wrong my entire life, spit out like a used condom for you to pick up and pull onto your finger so you can dance it around in my face for a second, savory the alphebetic juices that seep down your hand to pool in a puddle of my discomfort onto the floor, a growing lake between us. if a transperson wants to tell you their dead name, please let them do it on their terms.


second of all - this kind of goes hand in hand with rule number 1 - do not ask what i do with my sexual times. just because you have found out my gender identity does not mean anything about my sexuality. y'all know that - gender and sex are two different things. that's why all these different terms have popped out, when y'all just thought there were three things : gay, straight, and bi. Let me tell you something, there are so many terms to keep up with nowadays. There's Pansexual Demi-romantic - which means you're attracted to people, not just their gender identity or sex  who only experiences romantic attraction only to people you've established emotional connection with. Ya boy is a Akoiromantic homoflexible biromantic demi bi. Which in order means i like not having feelings recirptocated, i'm male attraction leaning, romantically attracted to multiple genders who i can form sexual connection with after emotional connection has been establish. That's not so hard, right? Don't worry, we all mess up the terms too. It's a lot and I recommend you stay away from Tumblr if you don't want to read a circlejerk of who's the most nonbinary gender-bending gentalia wading through the internet.

third of all - respect the pronouns. one of the nicest things that i took for granted when i lived in asheville was how fucking nice everyone was. if your trans friends introduced you to anyone or you met anyone, everyone's first greetings were "my name is such and such, what are your pronouns?" it was second nature to them, a simple question to clear the air and get things right the first time. if someone tells you they want to go by they, what the fuck does it matter to you? it might be uncomfortable for you for a second but you WILL get used to it. it'll become second nature for you too and you'll be the cool cis friend who's respectful and can come to our badass house shows. you better not bring any cishet scum with you, but you can come listen.

- on that same line, if you are going to ask because you, for some reason, think you absolutely need to know at least be delicate enough to phrase it along the lines of deadname or old name, i swear if one more of you asks me about my [air quote]real name i'm punching you in the face.
next, and this one is important - don't ask about genetalia unless you might have sexual activities with this person. i honestly don't understand y'all on this one - how you gonnna openly ask somebody what they're carrying in their pants? I cannot tell y'all the amount of times i've had to put on the face because you are standing there, staring up at mme blushing because you don't know the right words to say it so you shuffle up, all casual like "so how does all of that works" [gestures at my crotch, long pause, strut around] "I DON'T KNOW SUZANNE, HOW'S YOUR OLE FIRECROTCH WITH TWO INCH LABIA AND AN UNDERDEVELOPED CLITORAL HOOD WORK?" Like damn, we don't go around asking y'all what in your pants, can you just do the same for us? Shit.
just a couple of quick run-downs, a frequently asked questions if you will-

- no i do not want to meet your gay cousin because you think we'll hit it off, you do not understand the intricacies of the gay trans dating world and i can barely get out of bed, let alone go on a blind date that you set up just because your cousin is the only gay you know

- no i will not change my mind any time soon, so you can stop trying to fucking call me jeremy - you were not even close to the best dick i've ever had so why the fuck would i forgo my identity for your sad ole six inches but other people can change their mind and should be respected and supported if that does happen

- some people do not take hormones at all as part of their gender expression a just like some people float the genderfluid spectrum and refer to themselves as nonbinary - it' up to you to not be ignorant dick by assuming before asking.

- if you don't know something, just fucking google it. i moved back to auburn for a reason - i like telling my story, i like teaching my closeminded friends about gender expression. but i am an anomoly - just because someone came out to you doesn't mean you can make jokes about their body if it makes them umcofortable. consent is a sexy sexy mistress. but we live in an age of technology where you can educate yourself instead of making people feel awkward just because you got confused for a second.

- if i wanted your opinion on how i express my gender identity, i will ask. you don't have the right to tell what a trans people what they should or shouldn't do or wear to pass better unless they ask for your opinion. really, gary, you mean to tell me that you're not uncomfortable when i tell you that that polo is out of style and your jeans are too loose and those shoes make you look dumb when you didn't even ask me? common sense, common sense.

- there's so much more i didn't cover but i want to get to some of my personal experiences so you can get a nice little peek into my life, the things that i find myself stupidly doing as i try to stumble through this