Medium: Paper and chalk Size: 8.5 x 11 in “Gender person stands and looks at the sunset in a binary land.” #ThirdEditionSpring2020

Medium: Paper and chalk Size: 8.5 x 11 in “The superhero Gender Chaotic crashes down into Binary City.” #ThirdEditionSpring2020

Medium: Digital Art Size: 1080 x 1080 pixels "This piece was created to celebrate love, in all its forms, shapes, colors, and sizes." #ThirdEditionSpring2020

**TRIGGER WARNING** Homophobia Physical abuse/domestic violence Verbal abuse Please take care of yourself before, during, and after reading. I had at last found salvation in the small cottage at the top of the dark silent mountain. He had taken me in. Finally, my father had shown he could be a dad, and not just the man who abandoned me. I lay there warm on the couch appreciating a kind of serenity I had never known before. There were no lights to shine through the windows whe

Keep. That’s all I wish. For you to hold tightly to the crushed velvet and blood That calls for you. Sanguine takes some getting used to, But you won’t regret it. Actually, I’m sure you will Because ragged glass is nestled inside, Ready to cut if you search too deep. “Keep at the shallow end,” That’s what they tell kids who can’t swim To keep them protected. But you can drown in an inch of water, Or love, or blood, or anything that keeps Building, building, building Until you

The reason I do this is unclear, Unclear like our relationship. It’s murky and dangerous Waters I can’t navigate. At least, it is for me. My lungs feel rotten, Filled with hate, love, heat For someone I’ll never be Enough for. Enough; a tricky word. It says everything Yet remains unheard Because Enough for you, isn’t me. I can rip myself to shreds away with my fat, my hair, my skin everything that isn’t to your liking. I want to be clear; simply your own, your Enough, your ev

Persecuted desires in pitch black rave-parlors play pretend-dance on tables teetering toward catastrophe viewed through pin-holes wait, no, I’m sorry, bullet-holes into the love now wounded because of bold, brave men and women compelled to glance, not at each other, nor the same other, but toward the soft rain riddled pockets of moonlight puncture drywall, windows, skin in an attempt to raise the spirits an alone-boy gently trac

America has a ban on consciousness, and we love it. We are not a proud kind. We sacralize death but refuse to acknowledge our own morbidity. We think if we use chronic codenames and sing la di da under our proverbial mango tree that we’ll forget that our words taste of vomitspit. We put down our coffee and pick up our needle whenever we feel the grinning, thin-lipped faces of our mistakes gnawing away at our sanity. Our politicians kiss the feet of dead men, they cut off the

I used to lie in my bed and stare up into the abyss of solitude as I wondered why God hated me. I would spring up after hours of attempted sleep, feeling the tears cascade down the sides of my freckled cheeks. Why me? My rib cage would expand, shrink, expand, shrink, faster faster hyperventilating from the fantasies that played on and on, an everlasting movie in my head until the intrusive thoughts consumed all the energy in my body, permitting me my peace. I

“Tonight, I just want to hold you,” he said; so, that’s what we did. I slept inside his built arms, he slept in mine. The light peeking through the white curtains woke first me, then he. The birds chirped. His muscular body pressed up against me. My hand rested on the small of his back, his on my hip. I smiled at his beauty. His ebony eyes, eyebrows, and hair accentuated his rosy lips. Stunning. Awake now, his neck bent forward and his eyes closed again. I kne