rage fragment

I mean, what is it with men thinking.

I mean, what is it with men feeling

entitled. I mean what is it with men

thinking they own any body they want.

//

So what, rejection? It can’t be, I can’t be

you. I won’t be you. You, you. I write

poems to you, hidden. I wrote twenty-eight

pages addressed to somebody else

//

but they weren’t really. I’m only ever writ-

ing to you, these pieces, teeth and nails

bared I want, I want

you say but no, stop wanting.

//

I am not a man. But what if all I know is

man? I want, I want. I mean, what is it

with men & wanting but not knowing how?

I am not a man. So what, rejection?

//

It’s 2018 and I want to be a bird.

I never lived inside this body.

I did always stare into space.

You know, you know and I know

//

you’re only trying to protect me,

these pieces. The skin of my wrists

and my toe bones. I am hollow

and you are strong. What is natural

//

but coping. We vibrate, shaking

our body apart. I’ll be honest again,

we did nothing but sit in the dark

and look out for years

//

seeing nothing seeing nothing

how did we survive how did we

survive how as if we weren’t

even

//

But what if all I know is

not being not being sitting sitting still

inevitable inevitable I don’t want

hate

//

I know you you my body me

but I don’t see me in you any more

(and the birds wanna fuck, wanna?)

fuck I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

//

I’m sitting here, you’re sitting here.

I am not a man. You are not a man.

We are only the things we thought

we should be. Let me write this now,

//

we can be anything. Let me write this

now, living is so much more than words.

I am going to write this now for you,

we never have to be angry again.

This poem was included in my book "I want you to feel ugly, too," which can be read on issuu.

Read part 1 of this poem

Read part 2 of this poem

Read part 4 of this poem