- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Why is he not a boy?
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Languishing in his insanity,
femininity’s soft shell weakens him.
Dead in a coffin made of soft wormwood,
his organs exist in a shorn cavern of lost masculinity.
DEEPLY CUT in a hell of dripping pink blood,
he grasps for the emasculated strength that is not there.
There is no relief of the torture wrought from his missing genitals.
The cavern tests his manhood with haughty raucous red vomit.
He cries each day and asks god why his body is she,
when his mind is he.
God does not answer; she does not care about shemans.
There is a single ray of light as his lover opens the coffin
and validates his existence with a single kiss.
~ ~ ~
This is what it feels like being a man in a female's body. On most days, I am happy to be a woman, but on some occasions, I wonder if nature screwed me up. On July 23rd, 2010 at 9:59 p.m., I wanted to be a man for her. I cannot. I want to please her as a man pleases a woman with a cock, but my cock is not real. I want her to feel my love in her that way, and I want to feel what it is like to love that way.
She does not care; she loves me as I am. Most of the time, that is enough. Therefore, my existence in this small feminine frame has meaning.
Thank you for loving me B.
I do not think most can understand this need to express these feelings so openly. I am not sure I know why, but I feel better. Perhaps I simply seek for others to understand what it is like to be me.
