Batty Boy
watching my back
hiding my crotch
because i can’t be a batty boy
hunted, ridiculed
so i’ll settle for a bad gyal
watched, chased
when really i’m a blank canvas
constructed, restrained
by all your insecurities
and deepest desires
so i’m yearning for your liberation
for us all to be free
for the world to see
we’re more than what’s between our legs
and the deep ache within our hearts.
the breeze waits for no one
laying behind sleepy eyes
and with pineapple bits stuck between my teeth
i’m reminded of days spent
and the days I’m currently spending
how we can’t get any of this back
no reimbursement
no exchanges
it all is so final
like how i feel the breeze
how she won’t ever be the same
and in the moment
i can only be a no one, nothing
as she waits for me
tracing the beginnings of nowhere and everything
once the breeze is gone
you can’t get her back
or call on her to appear
because who exactly are you
to tell the breeze your full name
only to end up being a someone
who has wasted their precious minutes away.
Slow Burn
I know my liberation exists at the edges of my discomfort. In the shadows of my wishes and intentions, I find the very answers I’ve been scrambling for. Burn away all of the pretense and let me make sense from the ashes. This is the real essence of what I stand for, and conversely what I’m scared to fall for.
At the edges of me, I find the stripping away of ego and a smile without a face. I feel myself beyond my worries and fears. I’m seeing “me” for the first time and worrying about becoming too attached to something that must be scorched away.
Yet, here I am again, regenerating. Did you know that I am color, light, and sound? Yes, in this world, I cannot be shrunken down. All these pieces of me take time to be digested and savored and come right back around.
Allow me to be a slow burn. Then, I can be so much more than these edges of me; becoming more than all of the glimpses we’ve seen. A spark in the dark, beyond my mind’s eye, I know that liberation for me is more than what I can even dream.
Flight(less)
I’m not going anywhere
But perhaps that’s not how it seems
You see me leaping
Flighty, flightless bird
Reaching out of my cage
How I must be itching to get there
Without asking where “there” is
And all along
Inside
I have been waiting, hoping, knowing
That I don’t have anywhere to go
Because my destination is here
And to be here
Is to be so high up
Soaring beyond the trees
With my feet
Still planted
Firmly beneath me.