Category Archives: LGBTQ

Christmas Lights

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I came in 
to work tonight 
for my dad 
at midnight, 
as I have 
been tending 
to do lately 
so the majority 
of my time 
can be free 
of Christian music 
and misgendering 
and deadnaming, 
and I saw 
that my mom 
had turned 
on the 
Christmas lights 
on a cool 
mid October 
midnight. 
I automatically smiled.
Then I appreciated 
that smile,
 and the fact 
that I could 
appreciate 
that smile, 
and how far 
I have come 
to be at peace 
with myself 
while they 
be them. 
Suddenly 
my dad 
walks in 
while I am 
writing this, 
to check on 
whether my brother 
left his office 
light on. 
Just me. 
Tapping on my phone. 
He mutters 
about the doorknob 
needing work 
and says 
his goodbyes 
and wanders 
in to bed. 
I fix the doorknob 
when he leaves. 
Sometimes 
it feels like 
all the effort 
towards a relationship 
is on my end, 
other times 
the conversations 
between us 
flow incendiary 
and the world burns 
and societal norms burns 
and spiritual standards burn 
but then on such a fundamental level 
they just don’t get me, 
they’re waiting for 
this phase to pass, 
they hope if 
they just ignore 
Halloween 
they can skip 
the demons 
visiting their house 
and head straight 
to the celebrations 
they understand 
so here we are 
hopefully lighting 
Christmas lights 
on a cool
mid October 
midnight 
and waiting 
for the demons 
to pass. 

-Rex M

Happy Pride

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I wish a

“Solemn Wrath”

to the people

who can’t yet

muster up “Happy”,

or “Pride”.

To the folx

who realized

why it was

that they

wanted to kill

themselves,

only to realize

that now

there’s a

huge faction of

vocal and cruel idiots

that want you dead

instead of you

and you have to wonder

at every moment

if you are worth it

if you are real

if you are more than a plague

if you aren’t really an abomination

when mothers

clutch their children

away from you

in the goddamn grocery store,

to you I wish an armor

so mirrored and fabulous

that you might return

every laser gaze of hate

with a reflection of understanding,

followed by a spiraling dance of non-caring,

and an eye shattering glow of exposure,

bringing to light the hateful hearts

of those that wish

to strike you down.

Becoming

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I am
becoming
satisfied
with the
idea of
myself,
the way
my brain
maps my thoughts,
the way
my body
maps my responses,
the way
my journey
maps my future.
I am
who I am
becoming
who I am,
an ouroboros
phrase
that you
can jump in
anywhere
and to all
those who
share the
slightest smattering
of shared humanity,
I say to you,
walk with me
for as long
as our paths
travel together,
and our travels
will be that much
lighter and brighter,
for I will always
welcome a fellow.

Unfinished Daddy Issues Poem

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My father says I can’t be a man because I express too much. I’m a slave to my emotions, and I’m using a gender transition to stuff my trauma. 

I feel. 

I sit. 

I process.

and everything I make is steeped in emotion, every drip of paint or drop of ink or flash of flame or cut or weld or arc is sacred feeling encapsulated in a single moment on canvas or metal but then 

I feel.

I sit. 

I process.

and I abandon those loving harsh moment of truth in closets because they are past truths and they are therapy and they exist for me. 

Shameless Self Promotion

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Please check out my Kickstarter!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/iamzine/i-am-who-i-am-becoming-who-i-am-lgbt-zine

If as my friend you’re counting on me to get published copies of the zine and planning on throwing me cash sometime, instead of supporting the kickstarter, I would like you to consider that every purchase on the kickstarter will directly buy me more copies that I can hopefully sell for more income. Additionally it helps me with my planning for how many copies I need. Your dollars go further as an investment this way.

Also it’s a little above fully funded right now so there’s a good chance I might be able to add another set of pages.

I guess to put it another way, if you buy on kickstarter you’re also helping buy copies for two strangers. Sort of. Or you not taking away a copy from a stranger. I dunno. I’m bad at this.

Words of Wisdom

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My Very Wise Friend said 

“If your family 

demands you perform 

what they perceive 

as your You-ness 

in order to be 

part of the family, 

that’s not family 

and that’s not love.”

My family has struggles. 

Every one does. 

I think we battle 

more about 

my You-ness. 

See I can’t restrain my me-ness 

and all they seem to think about 

is imaginary penis 

while my brain attempts to run from all 

of these problems with expert fleetness 

but really could I be less

Worried

Ashamed

Real

if I wasn’t truly here 

or am I pretending that my absence 

is a problem solving algorithm 

when the question posed 

by the riddle was always

“How do you have your best life?”

and the answer to the system 

was never supposed to be

“Tap out, give up, it’ll only get harder,”

but instead the lesson was

“FIGHT. Fight and YOU’LL GET STRONGER.”

Pure Sterling

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My mother told me

that God is the potter

and I am a cup

but I’m trying to

become a plate

but what she

doesn’t understand 

is that I was 

never meant

to be so simple

and utilitarian

in the first place

and it’s much 

more likely that 

I’m an abstract sculpture 

out of precious metal clay 

and this is my trial by fire 

in the kiln of cruel expectations 

burning away impurities 

and anything less 

than what I need 

to be pure sterling. 

Delirious With Sputum

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I had a doctor’s appointment.
They gave me antibiotics.
It’s been more than a month
with this sinus infection
but I just kept hoping
I was gonna kick it.
But I’ve been in pain
and I was already there
for something else.
I winced when she
touched my neck.
Later that night
I massaged it,
and panicked when
I felt how incredibly
large and swollen
my lymph nodes were.
As I caressed,
tension released,
and I started coughing.
Delirious with sputum,
I researched
what was happening.
Turns out
lymph node massage
is a thing.
I massaged
until my skin
felt loose.
My double chin
had been storing
extra human goo.
I poked and prodded
the result,
staring at myself
in the mirror.
Was I manlier
with my skin
hanging loose?
And then I pulled
on myself,
enough to
tear my heart,
enough to
rip a seam
where I had
sewed myself together.
I often joke about
being 23 weasels
in a human suit
(It’s supposed to be 24.
Oscar is on FMLA,
he’s working through some shit.
It’s why I limp
unexpectedly sometimes.).
I pulled at the corners
and I saw behind the mask tonight.
The pilot, he feels trapped.

Sheep black by stain

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I know that I’m not supposed to talk about being crazy.
I know that I’m not supposed to talk about my family.
Or politics.
Or religion.
Or suicide.

I know for damn sure I’m not supposed to talk about my gender and sexuality.
A bunch of anonymous people know I’m not supposed to talk about my alcoholism.
Or my autism.
Or my PTSD.

These are things people get judged for.
These are the things that cause family members to turn into black sheep.
Some black sheep come by it honestly, just melanin, all natural.
But most are stained that way by the vile oily sludge of judgement.

I know these things make people uncomfortable.
You think I don’t know that?
I’ve always known.

I think a little discomfort is a small price to pay, to relieve some sheep of their Sludgement Day.