I Only Hate Men Who Love Their Penis Too Much

I am scared of everything.
And not “Oh, I’m scared of bugs.”
I mean I’m scared of fucking everything.

Automatic doors, for example--
I cringe a little when I walk through them.
One closed on me once, when I was five or so.

I don’t even remember it, but my mom told me about it.
Now I always think it’s going to happen again.
How very female of me.

Maybe I should get a sex change,
But then Mike would continue to believe I was a lesbian.
Only now, that I was a gay man.
At least then he’d finally be right.
Sometimes I think he has an issue with that.
Needing to be right, I mean.

But maybe if I had a penis my words would actually break through walls.
Penetrate them, if you will.
My morbidity would seem less out of place,
And instead of being a “punk”, I would be a man.
Only because I got a sex change,
I would know there’s not always a difference.

Hello, I’m not a femme-nazi,
You just think I am.

That’s called a one-track mind,
For you un-trendy folk.

Go make-out with a hipster and her eyeliner.