My Pronouns are Boo/Bies

I will never have two bull’s-eyes
Shooting direct daggers into the retinas
Of masculinity

It’s a precious pity
To ponder, to never know the feeling
Of a calzone, equally hemisphered by God
Filling out a baby tee in a
Ready-spaghetti fashion
Protruding to the public, pectoral pepperonis
Proof of perfection —
A hormonally-balanced body

In this matrix of vanity metrics
Chest is currency
And while the Silicon Valley Kings
Promenade in the Crypto sun
Vibratin’, titillatin’, tiddies Californicatin’
I’m left vulnerable, hands on them
Pensive ‘bout the profundity of these
Non-binary Bitcoins

Speaking of trade,
My Biology is the ultimate traitor
Cursing me with an overdose of
Oestrogen, I’m curved where I should be thin
Bump where flat should be, they are
Engorged like imprinted baby teeth
Gnawing away at fabric to be seen
Pronounced without bra because
That would be extreme

But goddammit, can’t an F-word dream?

It’s a beam I cannot balance
The way the ‘mones meander
My two flowers, one not quite bloomed
Must be Oleander
At 21, I wandered
The doc said, “It’s not Cancer”

A saturated sigh of relief, yet there’s still
Grayscaled grief, my mind not fully weightless
Paper-thin, misshapen
Psyche ‘bout to cave in, like my body came to be
(Ungrateful, woe is me, you prick, you’re Cancer-free)

So why do I feel trapped?
Untreated cell, thoughts clustered
I s(him)mer like The Killers
Mr. Brightside, so I must-(h)er

“Body Positivity”

I guess in this instance, perspective is the key
To lock away those feelings of genetic ambiguity
Is it one side puffed-up?
One side so blown?
Or a honey-hazeled hill with an inclined slope

The gradient’s quite radiant
When they’re hanging wild and free
Bouncing to a beat, ballistic
These rarities are not statistic
Dilated and angled, they hit their mark, sweet
Bullseye — Androgyny
Right in the retinas of non-conformity