This poetry, this Art..is Me…

It’s home, it’s Encinitas where Self-realization did happen. Love or no, this is the real Me when someone else wanted to take a picture of  a moment when I was.. me. This is what sits across from you, unafraid of anything “you” have to say, write, think or feel. Unafraid. Period. Comma, *gulp*

It’s gender fluid me, it’s non-criminal me, it’s Jesus me, it’s just “me”, which has nothing to do with my sexual preference, by the way. And everything to do with believing that I am write, wrong, weird, crazy and X, Y, and #Me too. C’mon now, let’s stop torturing each other with these X and Y games?

I found X..

I identified with Y.

There theY are with me,.. with we!..

With Us, I suppose, if we you want to combine

These seXes of genders that make no sense to anyOne

Including me sometimes. All I ask is that “we” keep talking

to One another. that we keep talking and expressing and letting

it out. it’s ok to be mad, I can get with mad. Yell if you need to, wreck

the car. let it all out with me in Space even, let’s yell together about how

crazy and mentally insane this all really is, doesn’t it seem? does this seem healthy?


When I wrote this, “I do” seem sane (to me).

Sweet home, Encinitas…?


~Stephanie Bird_Test:20180417:22:24, Over and out

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