The name is genocide

Can we really claim

our heads aren't in the sand

if our voices remain silent,

if our fingers are on the trigger

to keep the others silenced?

Can we truly say 

we didn't know 

when the bombs are this loud?

When life is lived screaming?

When the aching and bleeding

create rivers around your shoes?

Our hearts are wide open,

thrown against the walls you build around us.

You call it protection for our so called sensitivity

but the only one you are protecting is yourself.

Can we keep up

our claim to ignorance 

and innocence

when everything is happening 

where we all can see?

What is it that you want us to believe?

That you have a soul?

That the blinding light of heaven

is going to lift you up?

That piling bodies into the sky 

is your ladder to God?

Our hearts are broken open,

and I keep trying to fill mine up every day,

to keep the lives that were cruelly cut short 

in a place that doesn't feel forgotten.

And it still doesn't feel like enough. 

I will bite down on this.  

I don't care that you hate it.

You want peace of mind.

I don't want people to die.

I will clamp down on this

and I hope that you hate me.

I will speak to the truth,

say the name that you hate.

Spell the letters 

between my teeth.

Ignore your insistence

on complacency. 

Spit it out

at your feet

and hope 

that you choke on it.

I will put it

it my poems,

make you figure out 

if it rhymes.

You can take 

my tongue 

but I will still 

call it a genocide.

You can 

stitch my mouth

but I will speak

every time.

You can not ignore violence

to hope peace into existence. 

Hide and seek

Hide and seek

Tw: heavy themes of childhood abuse 

Count to ten. 

Come and hide me.

In the dark.

I cry like how I bleed.

Hush my mouth

so they can't find me.

Break the night.

Interrupt my sleep.

On and on 

you creep.

Too much time spend 

On my knees

(Not praying).

Tell me in the morning 

that it was just a bad dream.

Tell me that I made up

then tell me no one will believe me.

Did it even happen 

if no one can hear me scream?

A lone tree in the forest 

unable to grow roots.

Pt2

I bleed my words into this poem

so someone might know this happened. 

A record of who you were 

that spells your name in another language.

Will I be heard if I make it flowery?

Will I be believed if I don't mention the name?

Pt 3

Sometimes I dream 

about us playing hide and seek.

But in those dreams 

I found you.

I want you to know that

those dreams are not about 

bruised ego's

and power imbalances

and scratch marks

and split lips,

saliva spilled into

pink traces down your neck.

None of that matters.

No,

in MY dreams 

I pass you by

even though

I know where you are.

In my dreams 

you hide

until you die

and I forget

you ever existed.

A perfect ending

to an imperfect existence.

Bi-erasure

Bi-erasure

All you do

is take pieces of me

until I no longer exist.

If I were a man you'd call me gay,

If I were a woman you'd call me straight. 

Either way it's men YOU center

in your narratives about how I love.

I swallowed myself down enough 

for your convenience.

Shrunk myself so much

to fit into your story of me.

All you wanted was for me to become

anyone else

and I nearly did.

I am glad I have nothing left to give you.

Never thought the day would come 

that I could express just that. 

But I know now that

my existence needs no softening.

I have better dreams to chase

than your approval.

Death never bargains

Although we said goodbye

what felt like a million lifetimes ago,

I think there is a part of me

that just didn't expect 

that this was the end.

I wasn't expecting an invitation

back into your life 

but I felt strongly that

one day I'll see you again.

A passing smile,

a small talk moment,

the way two people who knew each other

connect.

We shared a story 

that spanned many books,

and spread out over the decades.

It felt like there was always more to tell.

And maybe that time was

long and winding

but it was never boring.

Time flew by like a spell.

There was love, even when 

our hearts moved in different directions. 

There was care, even when there was not.

That fire we carried was never lost.

There's a part of me that still lives 

where we left off,

despite knowing we would never 

pick up from there again.

I tried to image I had the power

to still time, but in the end 

it remained waiting

right alongside with me,

its companionship constant.

And now, suddenly,

there is no more story.

and nothing more to tell.

This comma turned to a full stop,

opportunities lost,

two becomes one.

There was an us and then there's not.

Death the great unequaliser. 

I would have gladly sacrificed

all my hope to give you more life,

even if it would have never touched mine, 

but Death never bargains.

Ventilator

Zomerhitte.

In de bezwengende momenten.

bezoekt zij al mijn gedachten.

Haar rondingen,

haar lange benen,

de innerwerking van haar brein.

Ik haal alles wat zij is

uit de doos van mijn herinnering. 

Gepassioneerd

maak ik contact met 

haar, en ik voel geen graan van spijt.

De verkoelende lucht 

danst haar vingers over mijn huid

met de kennis van een oude vlam.

De strelingen vinden de kern

van wat ik verlang

tussen mijn dijen.

Ik wou 

dat ik meer kon dichten

maar de zon vraagt al mijn aandacht 

als een jaloerse ex-geliefde.

Sinful love

My eyes will always find her,

even in the most crowded room.

She's like an electric fire,

sending sparks that make me bloom.

Just one look

is enough to make me catch my breath. 

I'm not ashamed to admit 

that I'm a puddle in her hands.

Her lips like cherry

dragging marks all over my skin.

I can taste the divine on her,

I can touch the sacred within.

Her lips like cherry

dragging taste all over my tongue. 

It's right here in this moment

that I know where I belong 

So if love is a sin,

then let the whole world be condemned. 

We can use a little hellfire, 

we can use ways to connect.

If love is a sin,

then let this be the end.

I will bury myself in her heat,

and leave my life in her hands. 

Community

Community 

Their embraces that

smell of alcohol and smoke.

Her smile that

let's me know that I'm home.

It's all I need 

to know:

Sometimes I'm lonely, 

but I am not alone.

I am not alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

(They are glitter,

euphoria, 

and late night whispers.

They make me shine.)