The whistle of the train is not far off from the whistle of the man
As I walked my 50 pound dog down the sidewalk and the man
Going 50 down Central Ave pursed his lips together and whistled at me.
It's the kind of noise that makes me want to shut my eyes tight
And plug my eardrums with my pointer fingers, soften the reverberating tinnitus.
I'm the penny on the track, he's the train. I know the tall myth that
I could derail him is false since it does not matter
how shiny and untouched I might be
He will make sure I am flattened and reduced

I am still that perpetually misunderstood child. I knew when my mother called me too sensitive that's what my crutch would be for as long as I live. When mom's say something about you, it has to be true. She's your mother. Of skin and blood and body, who would know you better than her?

I think I am still healing from the realization that I was uncared for. I can't recall when love was soft in the way a child needs. There were four of us, how do you make sure each one feels loved and special and noticed? I don't have the answers. I just don't think I was very liked at all. And it is residual and rearing it's ugly head into my adult life. I am marking tallies and keeping count of people who show me the slightest affection. I want desperately to stop. But wanting to be liked is a primal thing. Social media has a way of making me feel like everyone I know hates me.

where do the vulnerable belong in America? America tough. America no mercy. America you can have the dream but only for so long and at a steep price. You can pay it with your body. Or your child's. No, your mental sacrifice is not enough. We need blood to keep the America heart pumping.

When I was 10
I saw Texas Chainsaw Massacre
And thanked god every night for a year
I lived in North Carolina and not Texas.

Where do the kids in Texas
wish they lived right now?

Today I'm 29 and know
A massacre can happen anywhere in America.
The Uvalde children will stay 10 forever
And know that too.

I have just finished reading bell hook's The Will to Change and I feel like the only way to put my thoughts in order is to spill them out perhaps? I have a strained relationship with men. Who doesn't, right? Men have daddy issues and women have daddy issues and daddies have daddy issues and it's all very revealing what this boils down to. There is a reason why the men in our lives are able to cause so much damage and, as we can look around and see, have a strong tendency to. It's their conditioning. Boys are conditioned this way. And it's not just by their own fathers, no. Mothers can be just as guilty of pushing boys into perpetuating the very conditions that they themselves despise in their adult male partners. Assigning young boys "man of the house". Telling boys their interests "are for girls". Making sure any signs of high emotion, i.e. crying, is shut down so as not to exude weakness, "boys don't cry". Allowing young boys to play the role of "dominator" in all good fun. We are failing ourselves. We are hurting our futures and our children's futures. And I'd bet if you traced back on your family tree, the thread of generational trauma will show you this. After digesting this insightful text I see males in a new light, I really do. I feel sorry for them. It's easy to hate men. It's a lot harder to find the compassion to want to take care of men. And they desperately need to be taken care of. By themselves, by other men. So much unspoken emotion and longing compressed down in them and it is visceral and it is violent and I wish for them all an earnest acknowledgment and a cathartic release. What a burden to carry. A burden that the oppressive patriarchal system works very hard for men to never speak up about and to never come to terms with. And bell hooks brings it all back to accountability and action. Men must possess the will to change, the will to heal themselves and to connect. Heaven is here if you want it.