I went to a place with no gender, just hardship where it was subsumed by fraud and violent subservience petals of youth crumbled, adventure turned to holocaust
I want to go back and make daisy chains again like I did before I joined the military, before I went to college, before my first girlfriend before I became acculturated to making do before my parents closed the book on me when I was a page begging to be read aloud before I became an accretion of tolerance traded for time, half steps and compromises
(I still ride a motorcycle) favoured pornographies rediscovered, reconfiguring (back to the garden of Eden) the same circle of kinksters abandoned a decade ago, but it’s late, and there’s no room to be anyone else, so it always seems.
I am so very distant from myself.
Notebooks and brands, nail polish unworn Hopelessly confused and mixed up certainties obliterated, desperate hopes dashed (as if there was the remotest chance)
I do not know who put me in such a Precarious position, balanced, poised and fragile, senses of self fleeting, wondered at Who was that, there? What person was that?
it doesn’t help when philosophers are narcissists and transgenders have a confidence that points only to my inner lack
I will keep my gender in my cavern of screams next to photographs of fashionable queers.