April is National Poetry Month

Thanks for the response on the last poem. This one is a little darker. I'm trying to quit drinking and live healthier and that includes being more emotionally honest with myself and my wife.

I am currently reflecting on my sexual history and dysfunction and trying to just figure out me. Sometimes I find it so awful that I can't choose. Isn't gender supposed to be natural? Isn't our sexuality?

I don't know anything...



NEWS FROM THE FRONT:
A Crossdresser Contemplates GID & Guilt


My secret hands and my secret desires can fill a theater
and entertain all the young whores
dressed for a fuck.

My heels make a click,
click.


Oh, comely nights.

There's a holy war in my head
about how to walk,
talk
and I don't mean
there's many causalities

I mean there's no end to the causalities.

Like Batman and the Joker,
the tedious madness
of two minds
that inhabit the same body,

the city,

fat as my psychiatric file.

There is no winner, and no
bomb, nor
truce,
a countless counting
of coups,

a shredded nightgown,
a worn dress,
scrubbed skin
of those who hands mark secret work.


Let's be honest:
I'd love to burn down
like the skirt on the floosie
in the back of the club,

how it turns to ash as she dances
to the music.
By the end of her night

the whore
will wear nothing but a slur and a smile,
her high heels snapped
from all the broken hearts she's tramping.