With the wrath of a thousand moonbeams,
The sting of a hundred Killer bees,
A Pacific rip-tide on my insides, It’s a fine time for change.
but I guess it’s not really up to me. Destiny’s come-a-calling,
Presently dissolving these small wings so if I’m gonna follow my dreams,
I’m gonna have to do it on my own two feet
See, historically it hasn’t been easy.
Was surprised to feel my heart still beating at 18,
My skin still warm at 23.
It’s not that I didn’t expect to live, it’s just that I never thought I’d live so happily in this body –
My mind a thunderstorm.
The perfect storm of Anatomy.
My parents beautiful mistake. My wouldn’t have it any other way.
How many times do I need to repeat
Not the wrong body. Not the wrong body.I was not born in the wrong body
Until the textbooks start to believe.
Until my GID 180’s from my Gender Identity Disorder
to their Disordered Identity of Gender
Return to Sender.
It was my dream as a kid that I could hide inside the confines of my skin.
It’s not that I always wanted to be a boy.
I just wanted to be bigger than my secrets.
That the whole of my difference could be part of somebody’s greater experience.
I used to think myself birthed minotaur.
Mythology born two bodies in one form.
And in that sense, the textbooks were correct.
A mind-body disconnect.
A resurrection of intellect.
We often know ourselves better than we’re given credit.
And I’ve apologized a million times.
To the binary. To the expectations left behind.
And every sorry out of my mouth has been a lie.
Because If I had to do it again,
I’d rise the same split cells from one egg.
Be pulled from C-incision and begin again this same life I’ve been living.
With consent this time – no fighting fate.
You want to play a numbers game?
It’s statistically impossible that none of us change.
So I’m constantly fighting solidity.
Solidarity with inconsistency.
Idiosyncrasies, social symphonies,
Heart beating the rhythm of tympanis.
Accompanying a four-chamber quartet of blood pumping life’s essence in mathematical sum.
Part of us is always gone.
upon billions of blinking electrons.
It is chemical law that we are at all times partial.
Just ions bearing witness and removing themselves from this harsh world.
And now Saturn’s back.
Reminding me that the things I have come from the things I lack.
Distracting the detachments with tight schedules and excuses for all of my actions.
And that ringed queen’s returned, and she’s disappointed by the distance
and I’m resistant to being passive, all snobby like I’m passed that.
When inside….I’m aging backwards
Teenage idealism and cursing.
Want to crawl back into the womb and begin again at first breath.
Expand my diaphragm and do it again
Expand. Explode through sternum.
Not just a metaphor, I’m morphing into new form.
And I don’t even know where I’m going with these words.
Just a water sign pitting fire against earth.
Talking about rebirth to validate the worth of today’s work
As to say I’d do it again. Paper meet pen.
This verbal vomit, the reincarnation of all the monsters I used to live with.
I can’t sashay through my third decade with all this weight of yesterdays,
So Saturn, I’m waiting.When you’re ready come find me.
I’ve come to terms with the complexity
A master of my own designing.
Saturn come find me. When you’re ready I’m waiting.
This is not a threat nor a promise, just a long-ass declaration.
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