The dissociated brain

Have you ever felt
inside out?
Backwards and forth
like someone else.
Ever looked at him
and thought that is me
felt the utter horror
of not existing
replace all your thoughts
with what his could be?
Just have to shake it off
no point in listening
it’s just your fucking mind
not reality
but this won’t move aside
no it’s meant to be
can’t hold this in sight
I’ve let go of me.
All these symptoms collide
and his face takes over me
he’s just handing me my change
but I’ve become a he
if I don’t break this hold
I might end up in ward b-reality
it chokes on my brains news feed.
I cannot keep up with these
thoughts you see
reality is not something meant to be
it’s quite tiresome you see
I can go a long way just to breathe
but the scenery becomes a bit of paint
and every interaction is unsafe
I may walk away fighting your face
thoughts of living your life in your place-
my reality in space, no memories or piece
of who I might be.
Have you ever lived your life this way?
I have to be aware to stop the pain
exhausted though I am
I will remain.

I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

Cut off your tits

Feminism has taught me;
women are weak,
a product of a harsh society,
victims of their own biology,
never surpassing what’s meant to be?
Feminism sold me
a story not my own, see?
Raised on strength and knowing
that I make my own way.
That’s what my father taught me
don’t take this the wrong way-women beat me mostly.
Telling me I’m not queen
they didn’t even want me
a product of their own team!
My gender disowned me.
But I should play the old way?
I should love the words you say?
Raging statistics that just aren’t true!
Paid cents to his dollars
a vain pursuit
chivalry is dead
whoop de doo
until you know you’re on a date?
Feminist expects the man to pay.
Free the nipple but don’t sexualize-take his top off
he’s just a guy!
These double standards
are just fucking lies!
Not even standards just a blatant disguise
women are the majority
but we still feel victimized?
You keep the theory
I’ll keep my pride.
Feminists have told me-
cut off my tits
just because I’m not
buying their shit?
Feminist should turn in their cunts and their breast
you don’t what being a woman truly is.

Dysmorphia

You know
once
I thought I was a boy:
too big, too tall, not feminine enough.

Looking like my brother
not a single sign of mother.
I’m a little girl but confused about my cover
I have the body-but maybe I don’t?
I think I’ll bleed-but maybe I won’t?

I’m a little girl
my body barely grown
can you fucking tell me;
what story do I own?
What the fuck is female
when dysmorphia is home?
What the fuck is my tale
when anxiety has grown?

You tell me what is female
tell me what to do
if it’s not about my vagina
surely it’s my everyday pursuits?

Yet, I don’t know my face
can’t visualize my body
my mind a mental wreck
plagued by symptoms-mind is foggy.

You know,
I use to think
I was a boy
a girl it seemed to me was void
of everything my body meant;
too big, too tall, too masculine,
but then you see
I found the truth within-
genders just the outside skin-present the way that feels the best
it’s biology that dictates sex.
Tell me what it is to be a female;
lipstick, nice hair, and seashells?

Nature and nurture
the real deal
a concept that saved my life-
so surreal,
despite the lies that have been told-
just females,
my body, my own, so unreal

I am a female.
A mix of masculine feminine freedom
owner of a cunt and reason.
Dsymorphia undone
through treatment.