Sincerely, Aaron

I'm Aaron or Aharon

Other names: Ash/ Lark/ Caelan/ Faer/ Rayn/ Wren

Nicknames: Cae/ Ray

Literally any of those names or nicknames are fine. Idrc.

I'm 15. So a minor. Don't be weird.

Pronouns: He/Him/His

----------------------------------------------------------------------------Stuff I normally post about:

Trans guy shit

Being visually impaired

Chronic Ilnesses

Complaining about my parents

General Lgbtq stuff.

Gay shit.

Asexual Shit.

Poetry

Music

Mental Illness

Other things I can't think of.

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DNI

Transphobes (includes transmeds, terfs, etc.)

Homophobes

Racists

Ableists

Fakeclaimers of DID/OSDD systems

Non-Traumagenic systems (Endo)

Misogynist

Think pronouns=Gender

Against neopronouns/xenogenders

Maps/Pedophiles

Zoophiles

Use slurs you can't reclaim

All lives matter

You know me irl and I didn't specifically give you permission to have this account while sober.

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Written by Matthew Dickman ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of us were boys only some were taller or already in high school, and almost       nothing else mattered but to learn some new trick, to pull off something we saw in a skate video, wind cutting  around our bodies when we flew off the lip of a ramp, grabbed the board and twisted into a 180, kicking  a leg out and landing it, the only way to run through the neighborhood

was to run through it together, flipping off cops and skinheads, I almost don't even remember girls but a vague sense of the taste of bubble gum and how they smelled so different from us, sitting in some kid's basement drinking his parents' vodka, we grew out our bangs, moved in a pack, jumped in when some one of us  got jumped,

Written by Anthony Lawrence ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My darling turns to poetry at night. What began as flirtation, an aside Between abstract expression and first light

Now finds form as a silent, startled flight Of commas on her face — a breath, a word …     My darling turns to poetry at night.

When rain inspires the night birds to create Rhyme and formal verse, stanzas can be made Between abstract expression and first light.

Her heartbeat is a metaphor, a late Bloom of red flowers that refuse to fade. My darling turns to poetry at night.

I watch her turn. I do not sleep. I wait For symbols, for a sign that fear has died Between abstract expression and first light.