Stefan


Bright lights burn my eyes and make me sweat under
The large, grey, beard I am wearing,
My feet in too-big shoes on stage,
Still thinking I will see him in the audience,
Smiling at me,
It was only a week ago that we
Were painting a castle wall, 
Pretty pastel colors with glitter, his favorite.
We broke into the art rooms trying
To find a sink to wash our brushes,
Screaming and singing Lady Gaga’s 
‘Born This Way’ as we skipped down the hall,
Happy for once.
It was then that he convinced me that it
Gets better being a gay adult, much better than
Being a gay teenager.
He smeared purple paint on my face, 
I stopped caring that I had missed my queue 
To dance the Spanish Panic
Because I was finally having fun.
On the stage where I stand now, 
I hold back tears.
It’s opening night and I’m trying not to 
Remember anything but my lines,
The smell of spray paint still lingers on stage
From him and I’m reminded of a time where
Everything was okay,
When no one relapsed with his drug habit,
When no one was found dead in a car
In a Stop & Shop parking lot,
Overdosed on a bad batch of heroin,
When we didn’t have to dedicate a musical to our dead friend,
When I wasn’t completely broken,
When I didn’t need to keep re-reading the same
Facebook post to convince myself this is all real,
The smell of spray paint that lingers on this stage
Reminds me of a time when everyone I knew was alive,
Including Stefan.


Stefan

I’m a five year old child on my knees
Hands folded,
Praying for world peace and good health,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m an eight year old, crying,
Asking for some sign that my 
Grandmother won’t die in surgery tonight,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m ten now, sick at home in bed,
Infected welts coat my body,
I’m in pain and need relief,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m twelve years old and I’m gay,
I’m confused, is this allowed?
I don’t know who I am anymore,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m thirteen and the remnants of razor
Blade cuts line my wrists,
My head is in the toilet, fingers down my throat,
Throwing up the only food i’ve eaten this week,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m a sixteen year old now, 
I’m transgender,
I’m changing everything and I need direction,
Hey God, can you hear me?

I’m a lost soul searching for purpose,
The songs I once sang have died,
The things I relied on have failed me,
And now I’m Atheist.
Hey God, can you hear me?

Hey God, Can You Hear Me?

Dear Teachers,


I am not sorry for the hell I caused in your class.
You sit there and tell us about the world around us,
We discuss politics and global issues, briefly,
Until someone has a real opinion.
You need to do something different.
We talk about Christopher Columbus and what an
Amazing man he was, paving the way for the American Dream,
But that’s just because our History books are etched in lies
Instead of the blood of our ancestors,
The bones of the Native Americans we slaughtered,
And we don’t ever talk about that in your class.
We just sit there,
A room full of teenagers desperate for the truth,
But you grew up with racist parents, grandparents,
Hell, your great grandparents owned slaves
And you still sit there thinking that Hip-Hop
Taught white people the N-word.
We debate the right to equality for gays like me,
But it’s 2015 and I still can’t bring my girlfriend to prom.
We talk about police brutality, Ferguson, 
Until someone says it’s a racial thing and you
Can’t breathe, can’t breathe,
And shut our conversation down.
We talk about Bill Cosby, and how it’s never
Okay to hurt someone like that,
But my skirt is always too short, 
My shoulders, legs, 
Distracting to boys education and
Male staff member’s jobs, still.
Now, teachers,
We are the children of corruption,
We need guidance and truth,
And it’s about damn time you
Started to do something different.

Dear Teachers

What I’ve Learned

What I’ve learned is that learning is hard,
Absorbing information through thick skulls is difficult,
I know that what I know is important and beneficial to my well-being,
Sometimes.
I know that I shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp things
Or be left alone with my thoughts for too long,
I know by now that you can never be someone you’re not, and
I know that I’m still a boy if I’m dressed as a girl,
I know my name is Emmett regardless of 
What my records say, what you say, what you think,
I know that I like girls. A lot.
And I can’t change that no matter how many 
Pictures of dicks I look at, trying to convince
Myself that I’m into that,
I know that a cup of coffee can improve my day
By a million percent and that telling someone
To “fuck off” can be a term of endearment,
I know that terms of endearment are different 
In different situation, so picking up on social queues is important,
I know that I suck at picking up on social queues ,
I know that making friends is hard for me,
I know that friends don’t stick around,
I know that friends lie, and cheat, and hurt,
I know that friends are better than girlfriends and
I know that girlfriends can be difficult,
Especially when they screw their best friends,
I know that screwing best friends will screw you over,
Even if it feels good at the time when
Bodies are intertwined and lips collide,
And I know that lips colliding doesn’t mean love
And love doesn’t mean trust,
I know that trust is important in
Any and every relationship,
I know that relationships fail and,
I know that failure can be okay and
I know that something has to be okay before it 
Can be good,
I know that good things don’t last and
Things that last aren’t good
I know that death comes at the most inconvenient times and
Inconvenience isn’t always the worst thing,
I know that the worst thing is not believing in yourself and
That not believing in yourself will lead to regret,
I know that regret can and will and will always hurt you,
I know that hurting kills and that killing hurts,
I know that relief comes with pain eventually,
You just have to wait for it,
I know that waiting is hard and
I know that that waiting isn’t nearly as hard as learning

emmetts.second.sounds