So many questions..

Why is it that a I,

a man, 

half a man,

barely a man, 

am so clumsy?

I can't begin to explain the embarassment,

the humility,

the shame,

that I feel when having been told

that my first make-out session was when I was black out drunk 

and the middle is all I remember. 

That wasn't what I wanted. 


How is it that I,

a man,

half a man,

barely a man,

Can't stand the thought of being alone

but when people get too close I pull a knife

"Back! Back, I say!" 

but theres always that one touch that gracefully breaks down every wall

His finger tips need not but to graze each barrier and they crumble, 

I'm sure to him, I seem weak. 

I'm sure in a few days I'll be a has been. 

I just hope he hasnt picked a date yet. 

they always pick a date. 


I look at myself,

a man, 

half a man,

barely a man.

I wonder how it is I feel like this. 

Why is it that I am who I am?

why did the chromosones of my mother and father fuck up so badly they lead to a life of 




self harm. 

Why was I born to grow up hating the very body that I am to dwell in for the rest of my life?


Hatred was born the day I couldnt pass as a male and I had to wrap myself to feel new. 

I feel used. 



View s.x.k's Full Portfolio
allets's picture


is a postpoem tradition. You do it well.