candidcondor

[candidcondor]

"You must always raise your hand before speaking." The mantra sung to me by a chorus of teachers and peers. It's always been speak when spoken to, always never interrupt, always you can take care of your needs only after the lesson is taught.

So when I bow, my long arms trembling from the strain of expectation pinching nerves at the base of my shoulders, I learned to break.

Your patriarchs whispered sweet vile things about waiting my turn and only doing what is fair for the rest of the class- telling me the goods of others outweigh my own.

So when I notice the messy stitching pops open over poorly-healed scars, my first thought is "how unfair of me to make a mess someone else must clean up." I'll hide my wounds, fetch the towel to wipe away the still-pouring gashes, hide away in dark corners sacrificing my health to drain out over a dirty sink full of paint water and muddy rags so nobody will have to clean me up when I'm done.

I'll apologize a thousand times for the inconvenience of the smell of iron. I'll come up with excuses as to why it was my fault so nobody can shoulder the burden of the blame. I'll weep crocodile tears over sharing a space with someone and beg to be the one person alone in a group project because it would be a burden to take up any time that is not my own.

I'll bleed alone on your cross, like the good girl you raised me to be.

I'll die for your convenience.

Sorry, I'm sorry for it all.

[candidcondor]

If you could have a neverending candle, what scent would you want it to be?

I want it to smell like the book fair I went to the last autumn I was a child.

I want it to smell like the kitchen when my mom used to bake us cookies every Friday.

I want it to smell like standing in line to get cider on my birthday after it rained at the rein faire, arms filled with so many cups that I could barely hold them all.

I want it to smell like my lover’s hair the morning after a shower, when you can just start to smell her familiar pressed-rose scent through the rosemary conditioner she uses.

I want it to smell like the hot chocolate I drank with my family on Christmas Eve when we were walking through the old side of the city and it started snowing, snowflakes glittering in the night from the string lights strung between every building and on every tree.

I want it to smell like my dad’s workshop, always covered in a layer of sawdust despite how often he cleaned it, oil for hinges dabbed haphazardly on every surface and the ozone of all the equipment he used to build the most beautiful things out of.

I want it to smell like sneaking out in the middle of the night and stealing a bag of carnival popcorn to meet up with my best friend and spend the whole night talking about how big the world was and the dreams we had to look forward to.

I want it to smell like the lavender when I found out I wasn’t going to die before I had a chance to find a place to call home.

I want it to smell like the potato soup my mom made for everyone in the neighborhood when it got so cold that branches were snapping off the trees.

I want it to smell like my first great mischief, glowing in the starlight and hiding under heavy black leaves, when I climbed the roof and found the sun of Cygnus in the northern summer sky and saw who I was up there.

I want it to smell like spirits, the dizzy feeling of watching ghosts and sprites dance in the grass and flashing their own silent tunes.

I want it to smell like burnt marshmallows, my childhood spent around bonfires and spiders and rusty chains who taught me how to take strength in the sand and use the current to carry me home.

I want it to smell like incense burning in a dark room, asking my aunt I only met twice to tell me the future, crying in her arms when she told me that the hardest choice I’ve ever made doesn’t change who I am, a second chance of life if I were to find my path along the thorn bushes and the roots of oak trees.

I want it to smell like fire, a sacrament to a man who doesn’t exist with skin against stone learning things about myself I’d never forget.

I want it to smell like bones and dust, and like fire and smoke.

I want it to smell like the biting wind and the falling leaves.

I want it to smell like the life I lost and the life I found when I didn’t know who I wanted to be yet.

I want it to smell like the stories I haven’t told yet, and an old fiddler’s tune and creaking wood in the floorboards of an old house.

I want it to smell like the melody that hums in mushroom roots and leaves whispers in comet trails, the worms churning in the earth and the salamanders dancing beneath the leaves.

I want it to smell like learning how to live again, to remind me whenever I forget.

[candidcondor]

“i love you i loveyou iloveyoui loveyouiloveyouilove you iloveyou i loveyou iloveyouiloveyou”

- Partner #II, the partner you forgot

[candidcondor]

Thee first base:

- Bake bread with each other

- Go on a date to the zoo to support a fundraiser for her special interest

- Kiss each other, in the same bed, romanticizing your life together and the curtains you’ll buy

- Make dinner and dance in the kitchen- a balboa, you’ve never been quick enough for Charleston

- Dinner- chicken alfredo, cooked in your own pot, by your hand, and how perfect she laughs between bites. Charmed- you hope to see it for the rest of your life

Thee Secound Base:

- You have a cat now; We named him in Latin years ago but now he’s real now- tangible between our fingertips

- I taste you in my wine, your taste me in your whiskey

- Your hair is blue now- like the ocean. It smells like roses and linden trees.

- We cuddle; I missed your touch- oh how I’ve longed for you since you went away

- You are sick- I bring a care package, and you meet me on the doorstep, begging me to stay- (I would a thousand times over my love, we just need more time)

- We will meet each other again soon my love. I can still smell you in my pillows sometimes- I will always be here.

- Keep watching over the kids; I will keep watching over their mothers and fathers. I know you will love them and give them back to me when they are ready, and I will treat them all gently, as I know you’ve done the same.

- The start, the middle, the end, I shall sew your spare threads into my tapestry, my love.

Thee Third Base:

- We will be in each others arms again and the end shall once again meet the beginning. The elementary school teacher, and the cardiologist. I love you my love my love.

[candidcondor]

Broken like a record where the needle skips the sheet-

Constant humming in my head- the question I repeat

I shake and knaw my teeth, toss the thought and turn away-

Is it really sensible to feel both the night and day?

Prehistoric rhetoric screams of two types and no more-

While science says there’s more than that still, a wholly unopened door.

I shouldn’t feel such shame to wonder how real my findings are

But I’d rather hate to show the world a truth I find subpar

Never once yet have I felt like “Man” or “Woman” fit.

“Kid” was cool when I was young but now it doesn’t hit.

Am I male or am I not? I haven’t yet to choose.

There’s more to me I cannot grasp, a fish I always lose.

Some days I’ll feel girlier and twirl around a dress

But other times if worn a skirt I’d break down in a mess.

Im inbetween the two extremes but never in one place

The genders where I find myself are far vaster than their space

I understand it’s a-okay to never pick a side,

But imperfect and destructive, I’d rather hurt than bear to show the girly parts I hide.

Does it make me a bitter man to lock that piece of myself away?

I suppose it can’t hurt that much more than being a girl every day.

[candidcondor]

The Liar? // The Fool?

Studies say when you’re trans, your brain contains your gender // Zhou et al. (1995) and Kruijver et al. (2000)

And I feel like my father // But I think like my mother

The mind separates the brain // From the body

What if I’m wrong? // What if I’m wrong?

[candidcondor]

A poem for my beloved bluebird.

On many occasions I find that more and more my heart settles into the thought of you

Like cold hands to the outside of a warm bowl of soup, or like a mouse returning to its fluffy den after being out in the snow, or like a bird finding the place on its wire where its feet neatly fit to the groves it’s worn into it.

Like a cozy space safe enough to sleep in, and fuzzy socks when your feet get cold

It’s leaning into hugs and pressing your back against a wall when you sleep

I don’t think I will ever get tired of wanting you

and I don’t mean in any specific context when I say that. I mean that in a very all-encompassing sense of longing for every part of someone, I want you around and near and close and known in every way.

[candidcondor]

Hell need invent a new place to hold me the way I’m picking up men twice my age at the gay bar

[candidcondor]

Oh, to be a pet dog.

To be close and dear to your mistress

To follow her orders and her orders only with precision

To be big and menacing with claws and teeth

A monster- a beast, by all means

But know that you'll only ever mangle the ones your dear mistress orders you to

To be standoffish and cold and calculated in every scenario, but to work for her affection and validation

A weapon she holds on a chain

To wear a collar and bite and flash pearly white teeth but your dear mistress never fears you to bite her

So much trust and understanding

You wear the collar because it makes you feel secure. The leash to always feel her pull. Both unnecessary, for if either were removed, you wouldn't notice

But oh, how proud you are to show that your loyalties are absolutely as steel chains— To be everything your mistress asks of you

To be her law

To be law

Shower yourself in bloodshed and sing guttural threats on her behalf so she may never need to stain her hand

That's what you're for of course; a guard dog is meant to protect you from more than just predators

To have the freedom to choose what you can be and continually choose to be hers.

She has control over how close she keeps you

Whether you're out hunting for her pleasure, or curled up at the foot of her bed, security in tangibility, and soft fur to ground herself in with those gentle fingers of hers

You wear her badge of honor as armor, a thick band of leather around your neck, strong and absolute enough for you to breathe with, apparent enough you don't have to worry about leaving vulnerable spots open to breathe

In every manner of the word, you were born to do this task. It comes to you so naturally that you question if you've always had a notch between your head and your shoulders to slot her vow, or if you carved it yourself when you were reborn into the beast you are today

Afraid of abandonment

But good at the chase

Sweet lovers and soft whispers all by her touch, and you lay your head in her lap to tell her: "I will never leave unless you ask me to. I will always follow your words like commandments, and everything you wish is my duty. I would tear myself to pieces in order to please you, mistress, and I would leave without a trace if you asked me. You are so deeply ingrained into who I am that you have full access to me, whenever you wish, whatever you need, however you want me.

— I give you everything I have to offer, and shall find satisfaction from however you treat me, as long as you can promise my collar and my teeth (I would not be who I am without them.)"

[candidcondor]

I will continue loving the night sky when the street lights block out the stars

I will admire the color of drapes I’ll never be able to touch

I will hug balloons as they empty and mourn them until they deflate

I will sing about things I will never see

I will sew stars into quilts that I’ll never finish

I will continue loving things that will someday be gone.

[candidcondor]

Ego, Superego, and Id

The ego remembers ducking around corners

Lying out the mouth and hiding behind couches

The id remembers a loud noise

Paws tied in hands and fast heartbeats

The superego remembers none of it.

Ego takes 45 minutes to write 5 words on a page,

30 minutes to bathe, and a minute to blink.

Id takes snacks from the cupboard,

hides its heart in a cage, and never turns its back.

Superego doesn’t take anything.

Ego still cries when someone speaks too hard,

asks questions and cares about them too much.

Id still hisses, bites, and growls when you’re close,

walks with both claws drawn, and sits facing exit.

Superego doesn’t have a still.

Ego is tired, depressed, and worried,

and trying to write with its tongue.

Id needs a place to den for the night,

to shelter from storm, to sleep.

Superego doesn’t need anything.

So when id wants to burrow and ego wants to hide, they take their pillows and line the bed. Superego knows they need a hole to feel safe, and lets them.

We are the same system. I sleep in a nest. We I know that it’s silly but needs I want nest and when we sleep I keep watch and we curl into a ball and we sleep.

the wild animal. the hermit. and the monk.

[candidcondor]

☠️🕊️🚫🍽️

Spilled vent about my upbringing. Read tags.

I wasn’t yelled at! I just got… told that I wasn’t doing well enough… that I couldn’t do anything fun… that I was destined to fail.. that I wasn’t trying as hard as I should… that everyone would leave me behind… that I would be stuck somewhere everyone hates me.. that I was a disappointment… that I didn’t have a valid reason to be doing such a disappointing job… that they were sad I was throwing my life away.. that I wasn’t allowed to have any trouble because I was smart.. that I had to try harder.. that I had to do more… that i wasn’t worth the effort if all i was going to do was make the wrong decisions… that they shouldn’t have to hold my hand when i don’t know what I’m doing… that I’m not allowed to ask questions.. that i already know everything so they don’t need to help me… that I could do it myself… that it wasn’t as difficult with the first kid… that i could do it on my own… that they didn’t have the time for me.. that I didn’t care enough… that I wasn’t going anywhere… that it was never enough… that if i wasn’t tearing myself apart to be perfect then they raised a failure. They didn’t yell at me! They just didn’t love me with their eyes or their hands or their words. They just never said they were proud. Never happy to see me. Never treated me like a person. Never held me or told me they loved me. Truth be told, the only times I can remember ever getting a hug as a child, were times I stared it and begged them to hug me back and tell me they loved me. Even without technology, I grew up ignored and pushed aside. Dinners were dead quiet. Pain was invisible. I could never talk about my personal life. I could never feel anything. I could never understand why I always did everything wrong. I didn’t know how I could try so hard to make them happy and always disappoint them. It was always “we’re a little short on money and don’t have enough to buy you X” and then a dozen Amazon packages full of makeup and trinkets deliver the next day. It’s always been “go play” and “how about you draw something” and “why don’t you go write another book for me” and never “thank you for telling me” or “that’s very interesting” or “that’s cool” or “I care about what you have to say”. Nothing I made lasted as long as the things I messed up. Winning a trophy in academics was never as important as getting a B on a test. Drawing a pretty picture was never as important as taking up too much time and energy. Telling them I loved them never mattered as much as hearing I was making them feel embarrassed to have me. Human development is impaired when you don’t touch your child enough. Is that what happened to me? Did i fail so often because you didn’t love me as much as i needed?

[candidcondor]

Oh, how I wish I could live without you <3

Lungs >:[

[candidcondor]

[candidcondor]

Be me.

Dream.

A room with walls.

Sorrow.

I dreamt of a world I was a part of.

I belong somewhere between 4th dimensional branches taking paths in the corners of the walls.

Scurry.

Creep.

Scamper.

Crawl.

I’ll wear the blanket of a yellow room and cry into a green jacket.

More running. A chase.

The red one found my passage.

I duck and weave betwixt the columns of the parking garage.

Breathe.

Run.

Breathe.

Hide.

I feel the walls getting shorter, a mouse in a labyrinth. I was sure there was a gateway- ah, here.

Run. Feel the wall with my tiny claws, stretching into disproportionate shapes.

Running.

Hidden.

Distance.

Evade.

The path gets wider, the walls get smaller, the panels of the room start separating from each other. Like a glass maze, sky blue clouds dot a white sky.

Seen.

Hunted.

Chased.

Hurt.

I jump between walls, on floors not meant to be seen. I scurry through wormholes and paradox.

Relentless.

Tired.

Bleeding.

Backed against a wall.

Breathe.

Wind.

Gone.

I am awake again.

[candidcondor]

I wish the world was so simple. I’m being pulled in so many directions and being forced into so many shoes that don’t fit me; I was not meant to live in a time where you must work like a slave in order for someone to have the mercy to not kill you. In a society where anyone who isn’t working like a dog is shunned and hated. I was not made for cities and jobs and money and pain. I was made to scavenge mushrooms and make focaccia from acorns and curl up with you in my bed. I want to drink lavender tea with you. I want to watch the water bubble through the nearby brook with you. I want to listen to the rain pitter patter on a tin roof with you. I was made for planting flowers and climbing trees and humming a lullaby as I walk a dirt road that started where I was and ends when I die. Let whatever life comes next be the one where I can follow hiking trails and sing pretty songs and make paths of shiny stones and chart the maps of the sky

[candidcondor]

Transmascs with boobs who are indifferent or happy about it. You agree, reblog