Got a bit of that T Girl Swag

Arts and Drawging–24 y/o She/Him Commissions open (dm) Trans artist 🏳️‍⚧️

[hatsugayfreeku]

After a year and a quarter of waiting I am finally releasing:

Who Will You Be

I made this as a senior in college for jazz, and after a year I have grown so much as a musician, but that also makes me nostalgic in a way for this album.

In many ways this was a project of growth, and those questions I asked in the title track, I still ask today, though I think I have a better grasp on the answers now.

Hopefully y’all like Jazz, Free Jazz, Hard bop, Latin, Jazz fusion, and a hint of classical.

For more information I also included the other musicians on my instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DNnmf2JAik2/?igsh=MWIzMGRvYnA1anF6dg==

[hatsugayfreeku]

Sometimes she’s plucked from the safe and enriching earth

And revealed

Even though she did not want to be

And someone else’s ideal beauty

Was poured on her

Drenching her in a dream

That she didn’t wake from for the longest time.

And told she was beautiful

For all the wrong reasons.

And kept in a vase

A trophy

For someone else to look at.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Get more groceries, get eaten, by the ones you love

[hatsugayfreeku]

NSFW, CW Dysphoria

She is told off. She is told to be a certain way. She is told how she can’t.

But for what reason?

Does it start with the hair?

She shaved it.

She wasn’t right.

Maybe the thighs.

People still stare.

She wasn’t right.

Then it’s the way she dresses.

And still.

Not quite.

The worst is shopping.

Eyes everywhere,

On a body

While not rotting

Told that it would be

Gaudy and distracting

To be too thotty

Baudy if a baddy

But never able to

Stay at the table

With the other girls

No matter if her curls

Grow out

It’s still shoddy

And shabby when her brows furl

The girl is as contagious

As the plague is

Or so she thought she was

Since those who stop to see

Stare and flee

Act as if she’s filled with bots and fleas.

And the mirror’s new cruelties,

Based upon the insecurity of

How she is perceived

By gawking groups

Of onlookers who

Can’t get enough of

Telling her she’s not enough.

Dysphoria’s a bitch ain’t it,

Then again,

I worry that when I don’t shave,

That I am not enough,

To be a bitch huh.

[hatsugayfreeku]

It was her bad habit

Picking the scabs she had from carelessness

Keeping what was trapped inside

Each time one was picked

A pulsing cthonic wave was released.

Each time a scab fell away,

The more aware those around her grew,

And the more frantically she tried to cover the exposed inner flesh.

However the itch always remained.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Yeah it’s that time again

[hatsugayfreeku]

More and more, which I give, and wish to be pulled apart, and fully rest.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Man I doodle in one of my classes cause it kinda stinky hope yall like it

[ahmnorhein-zkn]

Repost, now do your honors.

[jkl-fff]

Trans people just existing is no more sexual than when cis people just exist.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Epilogue:

It’s time now!

[hatsugayfreeku]

It’s time

[hatsugayfreeku]

Wings Part 5

CW Self Harm, Gore, depression

As the frame was freed,

As my wings were freed,

Was I freed?

I still felt the same feelings, actually many of them worse as the catharsis subsided,

As the adrenaline faded

As the wound dried.

Everything hurt,

Everything still hurt.

The pain did not erase my heart,

It still hurt.

The pain did not erase the tornadoes whipping around my brain.

They still hurt.

I still hurt.

But I had started to realize,

As I sit in a fetal position, reminiscing of a point before…

Way before I had knowledge of pain, and knowledge of others…

The roommate… was crying.

It came to me, still with my veins hanging out of its teeth,

And wept.

It embraced me, wept, and as its tears ran down my back, it seemed I was not the only one infectious.

No its tears were spreading to my eyes, and I wept as it held me.

For the first time in years that wasn’t due to frustration, but the deep ache,

The deep ache that had always persisted.

And hurt everyday for years, no end in sight.

And my tears and it hit the wound.

The salt and water, a disinfectant that stung like hell, but started staving off my sepsis.

And the stinging brought more tears.

When the frame started joining in,

One had hugged my spinal column that it was attached to, another clutched my exposed shoulder blade.

But one of the main ones, finally exposed to air, finally escaping asphyxiation, fully rose out of the womb of my back,

And began shaking my shoulders.

Shaking pain out,

In a claustrophobic bathroom.

Exposing it to a tiny audience of us.

Shaking my insides to help guide them into place.

Its tears joined the rest.

I have learned much since then.

The roommate comes to call when my lights burn low,

But usually can help to light them again, or at least keep me from bumping around in the dark.

The frame is always here,

They are friends, actually more like family.

They help love me, when I refuse to take it from others.

And they no longer live in my back.

They live everywhere.

And my wings.

Well I was born with those wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

But now,

I use them to help myself.

When I remember to,

And the others help remind me.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Wings part 4. (A look back)

CW Self Harm, depression, gore

Looking at it, a mirror of all of my infractions on other people,

I believed it to be the harbinger of my cause of the ruination.

Or rather the cause of that.

Years of harsh lessons learned from the parts of life lived hard,

And subsequently avoided when living it easy.

A kicked can down the road that cuts your foot.

I thought it a monster.

So I asked it what I thought only a monster can do.

Unlock the secret cavity my back hides,

Pimpled skin from a dull razor covering untold masses,

Masses that would never show unless exposed to the elements

My blood froze at the thought,

The thought of revealing the underside,

Stones when flipped,

Sent a cascade of ants, rivers of centipedes,

And I feared what would be revealed when doing the same to myself

So I held it in place,

Even as bones grew uneven, poking out of flesh as a perverse root system, and new muscle wrapped around them tight, anchoring into place a warped spine.

I held it in place,

even as a forest on my back grew, and the eternal war of razor and hair claimed thousands of acres of bumpy, red-raw skin, somehow both bleeding, and yet still full of puss, as if the itch was a mockery to the land of my shoulder below

I held it in place,

Even when I was slowly transforming into the monster.

Weird…

I thought that thing was the monster

It.. the roommate,

Who lived with me for years, the monster.

And yet, it warned me of my wings growing wrong,

It warned me of the frame being warped by tectonic pressure of fusing plates of bones.

And yet now I was always the monster.

Even though I always apologized.

They said I apologized too much, and yet how do I not apologize for spreading my pain,

A leak in a blood river that infects those who touch it,

Bacteria thriving from all the light sins committed

How do I not apologize?

And then I was told, the bacteria was not from sins,

But from a wound turned septic.

A wound that I had refused to clean long ago, believed that I deserved the itch, the ache, that it would bestow upon my body a fiery outlet for my transgressions.

Transgressions I was told that either didn’t exist, or didn’t need repent.

I had no understanding of it.

How do any of my transgressions need no repentance?

This thought spiraled in my head,

I grew nauseous, a strange vertigo that had held for years, now creating a turbulence that rolled my stomach for months on end…

So I decided that it was time to take action,

And free my wings.

The roommate seemed no monster anymore,

And I finally loosed the prisoner of my skin.

[hatsugayfreeku]

CW Self Harm, Gore

I would be remiss at this point to frame the roommate as vicious,

It never hurt me,

For it was trying to reach those wings by my request,

It, the caring creature it is, wishes to avoid me harm, and usually steers me clear

And as such was in a hurry to free those wings before they cause more damage

It may be frantic, but I noticed the terror in its face as it tore my back open,

Its struggle with skin toughened by years on the farm,

Muscles fused together around an inflexible spine,

A spine, it made sure to avoid clawing with its blunt nails and teeth,

Until it finally managed to unzip the back,

Muscles limply clinging to the moist blanket that had kept them warm,

The air cold, and sharp,

Sharper than the teeth used to tear them open,

Dry,

My flesh drying,

My wounds drying,

A strange itch mixed with a throbbing pain as only viscera exposed to the elements can create,

And finally

shifting.

As bones move, the pain excruciating, and yet entirely satisfying

As they pop one by one into places they were supposed to have been in since childhood.

And yet the process is slow.

Glacial progress is made, as the muscles of the wings had grown tangeled,

While some were large from overuse,

Others atrophied into thin strands,

But they were moving.

And something else moved,

The frame,

It housed a part of myself,

more like parts of myself that I had forgot

Housed, or should I say trapped in a cavity,

Causing a flutter that could be occasionally heard in the chest.

After it had finally opened,

They finally crawled out,

The frame, which was blue from the lack of air, and which was now freed by the roommate, blinks in a fluorescent environment.

Hostile yes, but exciting.

Blinks a few more times before they crawl over my spine,

Hugging it,

They help warm the exposed flesh.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Wings part 2.

CW Self Harm and Gore

I was born with wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

They always just seemed to be buried deep in my back…

Hidden within pulsating muscle tissue, and tough sinew,

But they were there.

The larger they grew, the more it hurt,

A natural feeling I assumed, as it always hurt when new parts grew,

Teeth hurt when they grow,

They collide with each other, and push the others either out, or into place.

This was no different.

Muscles hurt when they grow.

Tiny tears appear in the strings of cells, and as retribution, the muscles grow more to avoid the pain later.

This was no different…

At least that’s what I said.

I never checked on it.

I didn’t want to worry everyone,

I also despised going to the doctors,

So avoidance was the best policy.

And this was no different.

But the dull throbbing ache didn’t go away.

It never went away.

So I decided to sleep on it again,

One more night,

One more night,

It would be better in one more night.

For this was no different.

But that was what I told myself.

…

They had grown in wrong.

Grown in a way that collided with the frame packed loosely inside already,

Warped around the soul rattling inside,

It suffocates my roommate in there.

But it was already wrong, and these were right…

At least that’s what I was told

I was born with wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

And because they were buried in there I just needed them to finally grow outwards,

And then I would be better

I would be good,

I would finally not feel that dull ache,

Of my evil,

I was wrong to hurt since these wings were good,

And I was born with these wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

The roommate knew they needed freeing,

So they helped rip them out,

Skin on my back opened in the middle,

Like The frog from science class,

Whose innards can help inform us of what goes where,

My innards are there,

Loosely packed in,

The frame

The frame was bent,

From years of the wings growing in wrong

Wrong?

They can’t be wrong,

I must be wrong,

For I was born with wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

And I will help everyone,

A sick noise of meat being mashed into a pulp and then pulled taught into a fleshy rope could be heard from my tearing back,

I would not scream for I forgot how to react to my back pain from years of silence,

I lay stoically as the roommate slices through layers of meat,

And finally wrenches out it’s prize,

A thin jagged wing,

Its removal causes everything to shift, the other wing popping out,

But instead of subsiding,

The pain increased.

And what was worse was a nausea that followed,

My insides now finally loosened, sloshed around, the packing finally letting my lungs expand

And yet, it was the beginning of something new,

I may have been born with wings,

I knew it,

Everyone had told me so, and that they would help everyone,

But that’s not why I had them.

And not everyone needed them.

[hatsugayfreeku]

CW: Self Harm

That is what I say…

And it’s actually true!

Slowly clawing back a sense of self,

However fractured it is,

It’s regaining some shape, some structural integrity.

But…

The, for lack of a better term, stuff inside…

For it does feel stuffed inside,

Packing for a trip that was supposed to be a few days, and yet it’s now been a quarter of a life,

Lazily thrown in with a few blankets, an old sock, a towel I forgot to put with the toiletries,

Stuffed haphazardly in a vain attempt that by putting it in snug, it won’t, by a chance, luck, or a miracle,

Shatter.

And re release what I originally trapped in there, but now rather than trap, I have made it a home

We are roommates, and it actually likes me much more than I liked it in the past

My tolerance has grown to it, for it only acts out when times are tougher.

But

Times are tougher again,

And i wonder how I worked with this, when I was worse

It now seems so big.

It roots around in me, trying to find my wings , the ones that I had torn free from my back, and tried to stuff back in the cavity when they had sliced a hole in the wall,

It only does that when I sink back into the rug, so as to not take room in the hall.

The hall that they all walk down and back to their busy lives.

I thought I was an impediment before,

But truly I realized a year ago,

Curled up on the floor,

I defeated my intended purpose, as I indeed took up more floor space there than anywhere else.

However,

What I realized a year ago, is that the space was never the issue.

The wings themselves were never the issue.

But, I used them to shield the warped frame that had been bent over years of travel, bumping on the road, by me, by strangers

My body for the longest time a thing

And my selfhood for the longest time was stuff that I had put in the thing

And recently I had repacked my things,

But I was told it’s ok if that happens occasionally,

But I feel remorse for repacking my things,

For I had intended to stay this time,

So why keep the stuffing, why put it in the bag,

Why open the scars that hid my wings,

To fly back to that island, I spent mentally self-flagellating,

Am I not grateful for what I had received.

But of course,

This had not happened because I was not grateful.

It’s just another step,

Until I can unpack my bags again,

To stay home, comfortable,

And let myself be loved.

By my bodies roommate, that I shunned for years,

And yet always welcomed me back.

[hatsugayfreeku]

Sketches from the Cocoon - Sketch 4

The Theater

The mimicry was unsuccessful. While it tried to imitate what those around it did and said, it had gotten into a rhythm. Its routine held suspicion for a while, but repeated cracks break the facade.

It has no choice but to flee.