dysphoria

let

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

Throw them
Lead them

The narrative arch of eroticized killing is inevitable,
it even happened.

I thought about meat.
I try to distinguish affection from hand combat as a means to sex.

See it
Refuse to end it

No empathy protects my body,
my organs spill out of intimate violence.

Leave my own senses…
was wrong
was intrigued

The bile spills onto me because I own death
Or because I am not to do anything at the kill
I am so still, clearly violence
And he finds it so cold being equal

Available protections:

  1. Preclude the camera is actually killing.
  2. Carry the danger.
  3. The possibility of poetry about how someone feels.
  4. Play the instruments of alienation.

Perhaps if I didn’t know how to hand,
how to submit,
how to believe there is,
then

mistake

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

Steam rises from my calves
am I hot or cooked?
burn in/out my core

Blood rises to my head
press out the borders
of my flesh
remind me I’m alive
still feeling numb
angry at machines
and their capital

Blood pounds in my ears
mask the sounds
of his.my shame
cover me in my own fluids
still feeling helpless
angry at landlords
and their egos

Water trails down my chest
am I sweat or tears?
drain me in/out

I hear I’m about to make a mistake
I realize to        that mistake is
you                                            me
hide <> erase <> problem

I’m the best at collapsing make room for your insatiable
I don’t need                      fuck
you                                  myself
big dick <> little d’clit <> forever girl

Light flickers behind my eyelids
am I dark or light?
replay in/our danger

Shadow betrays my            frame outside my            brain
female                       male
show me you t-ts                               c-ck
whore                                              monster

Fog coats the mirror
what is my name?

I am a constant                                         temporary
state of                                                    amnesia

Elliot, Mike, Frank, David, Joe, Jack, J, J…
JJJJJJJ
is something

J…{}{}{}{}
Ja –~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jac//?!

Wake up!

Please

I need       inside
you            me

severe

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I will own, or I will sever
My body runs the line

He prefers people as objects, resources of distance
The victim is hiding something
Submit to protect his heart

“Go ahead and let go to try to want affection”

I don’t.

I try to return the haunting familiarity of intimacy. I feel strange.
I confuse love with combat
I am not seeing it makes me he

“Who was the victim here, the wall?”

It wasn’t.

I can’t bring myself to,
He freezes me

lost

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

who is..
where is…

what happened to your sex?
is it in the bathroom, the bathtub?
did you drop it into the toilet?
did it get sucked down the drain?

or is it still sleeping entangled in the bedsheets
while you left for work in the morning?
with socks lost to the laundry,
on the kitchen counter,
or in a bag in a drawer for safekeeping?

Did you ask someone to hold it for you,
and then they ran off?

Was it removed by a doctor,
as an anomaly?

When its taken from you
its hard to remember

Maybe mine is in the car with bad breaks
in the ruins of a New England mill
lying in the tall grass next to the river

Or gathering dust in the teacher’s closet
behind the dugout
caught in drag in a bridesmaid dress

You search frantic
sweating
pounding
wanting

for what you misplaced
fearing it is gone

And then you realize
he took it from you
he lost it when
he misplaced his own

I kept me

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I lost my gender in white lies. That’s the hardest thing about who I am and what you are to me. I write with anger and gratefulness as you read my words nearby. I have been afraid you will address the affection I project onto us, that I might lose you. I will bind my tears to it, with gratefulness, open to thinking love is unknowable.

I need to be interpreted in our relationship. I remember that aspect of each letter, where the other person takes all of my heart. The times I was going through sacrifice were when I felt your most desperate moments. I could receive your presence through my own difficulties and become more thoughtful each time.

Your presence, your touch that I wanted. Everything you are. But my attraction plays outside of your perspective, predictable as non-attachment and antagonism.

What about you in this conversation? I leave so much unexplained and just try to figure out whether it can be said. I do it in action, but not giving anything through my body. I want to lead and feel your desire as if we are normal human beings.

I knew myself in you and I kept me.

inside

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I had to focus just to say
are you there?
I read dreams and visions to find my reality
become more poetically erotic
shed our skin to find clarity

I was sweating nervously in his subjectivity
What if it was something about what he did?

Safely twisted I reside inside a fantasy
but when I enter him I meet his virility
he is afraid to be seen, drunk, without will
I rape myself with my own subjectivity

Just take some notes make observations
construct a man
Let him out for a few days where he can be playful
clever

I’m in the men’s room gagging on his hard edges and my lived experience
write my own anger in his energy

I do
it is the difference between us

sight

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

There was once a beautiful boy in here. His wrists are bound and bleeding from the rope. He’s naked and hiding in a corner underground, not quite aware of how to stand straight. The light hurts his eyes. Insects have started to eat his flesh. He’s muttering, “I will love, I will grow, I will live. I will love, I will grow, I will live.”

I am so naked.

Wake up!

Look at me goddamnit!