the shit you shat upon my windshield

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

Reminders To Self

after Tai’s poem “Reminders To Self”

1. Your pain doesn’t negate the pain of others; you are allowed to acknowledge your pain. 

2. You can’t bring them back. 

3. He and she and they may make you want to shrivel and shrink and hide. You can, for a minute, then remember the love you choose to trust. 

4. You can’t bring them back. 

5. She was born this way, hey- she’s going to be ok. She’ll grow. 

6. There will never be “enough” but there can be adequate. Fight for it.

7. Adequate can be enough.

8. You can’t fix everything. 

9. You can’t bring them back. 

10. Your body doesn’t have to correlate with your broken heart; Your body can be broken on its own volition. Your arrhythmias don’t have to bleed out. 

11. You can keep those broken pieces and you don’t have to drown them in glue or bind them with tape to do so. 

12. Your broken heart is not defused. 

13. You can’t bring them back. 

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

As Holey as Thou

There’s a hole in my soul The perforation is perhaps in my heart but I do not know how to start To decipher its edges.

There’s a hole in my soul Its edges are expansive And extend into my unknown with an uncertain end.

There’s a hole in my soul Where you used to lay; Your head on my chest always pressed upon my sorest spots.

The hole in my soul Dissolves the stitches I endeavor patching it with to catch and cling To the echoes you etched.

My soul has a hole Who longs for damage control - Seeks solace in your snickers to get lost in your arms criss-crossed around me. It leaks your laughs, leaving me without them and seeps the sights of your smile. Your songs escape, your footprints wash away, and swaying into departure is the smell of you.

You left a hole in my soul And I cannot create a goal to Obscure your final mark on me.

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

As Holey as Thou

There’s a hole in my soul The perforation is perhaps in my heart but I do not know how to start To decipher its edges. There’s a hole in my soul Its edges are expansive And extend into my unknown with an uncertain end. There’s a hole in my soul Where you used to lay; Your head on my chest always pressed upon my sorest spots. The hole in my soul Dissolves the stitches I endeavor patching it with to catch and cling To the echoes you etched. My soul has a hole Who longs for damage control - Seeks solace in your snickers to get lost in your arms criss-crossed around me. It leaks your laughs, leaving me without them and seeps the sights of your smile. Your songs escape, your footprints wash away, and swaying into departure is the smell of you. You left a hole in my soul And I cannot create a goal to Obscure your final mark on me.

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

Cadence’s 28th

Roses are red Violets are blue There are some things I’ll not misconstrue

For though roses are red And violets are blue With the pair of us Mischief shall ensue!

Some roses are red Some violets shine blue But don’t ever doubt My love for you.

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

Cadence's 2020 Birthday Poem

Dear Cadence, I love you. Dear Cadence, I admire you. Dear Cadence, I cherish you.

Dear Cadence, you're a brilliant radiance of a human who flashed across my world and, somehow, I was lucky enough to capture your light.

I treasure every text and treasure every call, and I adore our tall rants, our shared tears shed, and our puns and everything     in between.

Dear Cadence, you leave people so much better than you found them and your drum beats to its own rhythm; your long cute-ie cats' streeeetches represent all of us meant to reach for giving you our best selves. 

Dear Cadence, they teach us that the planets orbits ‘round the sun; if I believe this, I would be remiss to doubt  that if you are a planet, I would be your moon. 

I gravitate towards you, I cannot see through a lense to a world without us together. The vastness of space hasn’t a place to pinpoint an end to your beauty and grace.  For this, for you, I am utterly grateful.

When asteroids come and get you glum, I will destroy them. When ableism hits and throws a fit, I will counter it If your thoughts turn to lies, I will always try to remind you of your values- our values.

Dear Cadence, I love you Dear Cadence, you’re a supernova  Dear Cadence, I love you

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

If I die young Bury me in satin. Drown me in your sorrows so that I may take them with me And relieve you. If I die young Lay me down on a bed of roses. Remember that the prettiest roses have thorns- This is why they are the prettiest. If I die young, Sink me in the river at dawn. Take my bones and make them stronger than they ever were; make them stronger and sharper and More alive. If I die young, Send me away with the words of a love song. I loved to send. Send all the best, send love, send hearts and flowers and letters. I’ll have sent you my soul. When I die young, Burn me black. 

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

I feel rescued by Your breath / or at least  / sustained.

I learned in First Aid how to do mouth-to-mouth; learned how to give rescue breaths, the little oxygen from an exhale enough to save a life …sustain a life.

I’m mouth-to-mouth with him but in his exhale into my inhale I only feel the void of air intruding my lifeform; And with my breaths that he took he stole some of my life. I’m mouth-to-mouth with him and my only thoughts are “Crap, I didn’t google "French Kissing Technique!” Naturally. …because this doesn’t come naturally.

I’m mouth-to-mouth with hhim and I’m trying not to recoil I’m mouth-to-mouth with hhhim trying and not trying to figure out what’s happening I’m mouth-to-mouth with hhhhim lips on lips with sudden hands on hips I’m mouth-to-mouth with hhhhhim and he tastes like death. We survive on death breaths.

They’re mouth-to-mouth with Him but “they” are I and “He” is you and I shouldn’t feel safe with you but I do. You’re mouth-to-mouth with me and my hands are cast in your hair because you feel like an anchor  in a completely different world.

I’m mouth-to-mouth with hhhhhhim and “I” am me and “hhhhhhe” is not you and I won’t even try  to think of this guy as you.

I was taught thirty chest compressions, two rescue breaths: that is the standard to save a life. But I was also taught compression-only CPR with no breaths and maybe this is how I sustain my life.

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

One of my doctors said that I “today seem more angry,” and asked “can you tell me about that?” I didn’t answer. To this cisgender heterosexual abled white doctor, How do I explain intersectionality? How do I explain transphobia and ableism and poverty and how they are woven together tighter than the air in my chest? How do I explain censored identities, “special” lifestyles, and taboo survival systems? How do I convey having to celebrate when treated like a living, breathing, feeling, human being? How do I convey life being every day in this society that brays  hate and denial and shame. 

How could you understand shame in being ashamed when you are perplexed by my “The Future Is Accessible” shirt. when you bring up family therapy every appointment. when, on a day where I was brave/apathetic enough to use my cane, your front desk people turned me into gossip that got passed along your staff? Doctor, I cannot convey my crying everyday or how I, athiest, pray just for them - for all of them - and will forever wish I could say so many last words. Words of praise, of awe and amaze, every phrase except “goodbye.” I don’t want to explain how much they meant to me. I don’t want to tell you how I knew them, then upon my answer feel you trivialize how much they meant to me. They meant, not the world, but a community to me. They meant a movement to me. They deserved the world. But instead, the world took too much from them and took them from the world. I will not end this poem on a positive note I will not conclude with an inspirational quote We are allowed to be angry that while everyone else sails, we struggle to float. We are here for the bitter, the uninspirational, the smoking, the drinking, the addict, the one who hasn’t tried everything. We will have our community, with its solidarity and intersectionality Its unity, and its discourse and inevitable deaths. 

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

Chandlery

I hate hands   I love hands Hands.

I hate hands Hands pull: pull triggers, pull wool over eyes, pull teeth I hate hands Hands are people’s tools for violence Hands are people’s tools for violence Hands are tools.

I hate hands Hands slide, hands seek, hands grab and hands grasp with greed Hands slide, hands seek, hands grab and hands grasp with greed soothe. Hands soothe.

I hate hands Hands are channels of ill will, avenues of vice Hands are channels of ill will, avenues of vice Hands are channels.

I hate hands I love hands Hands can heal. Hands are beautiful. Ribbon rippley, solidly sturdy, Calloused, or Soft.

Warm hands, cooling hands. Compressing hands, Feathering hands, Enveloping hands.

___

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

it's ok to be scared of my scars be them upon my skin or expressed through my body

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

Scuttle. Creep. Trickle on your tiptoes. Turn the knob before the door re-enters its frame Guide it to its place, softly; It never moved and you never were.

[one-for-your-bright-eye]

So turn it up The throbbing beats will penetrate you deeper Than you could ever reach.