Chaser

It starts off hot

speeds up real fast

Meet him and he say he likes it

He goes,” Are you a tranny?”

I say I’m transgender

Do you wear wigs, makeup and heels?

No I don’t.

Do you wear a thong?

And the phone goes click.

It makes me sick in so many ways

The ways these chasers play

and the fixtures and appliances they covet

Real person with real feelings and real life be damned.

You want a porn star. You want a fake bitch.

You want fake parts and pieces.

You don’t want me for me. You give a fuck about my story

You care less about my conversation. You want scandalous details

about all the surgeries Im posed to have. You want to know how

big my dick is and can I still come? You want to know how close I get to

them visions on porn sites. You like the rest of them do not see

me as a woman. You dont see me as a real person.

You want flashes, amenities and fixtures, bells and whistles

There is no possibility of discussions of anything else

I hate you and hope you go to hell

For failing to be more

For throwing salt in my face and the game

You not a real fan, nor are you a supporter

You’re an endorser of us never being mainstream

of remaining dark, dirty little secrets you can harbor

that you self flagellate everytime you cum and everytime you

pretend to be a good husband, family man, favorite son,

regular dude from around the way.

I see you chaser, you lowkey hater,

you superficial bitch with your affinity for bells and whistles

I hate you and I hope you go to hell

For almost being nice and failing like the rest of them

to see us as real people, as real women, for forcing us

into boxes of performance and making null and void the possibility

to be anything else.

Fuck you Chaser