Stealing Silver From Mirrors

By Garnett Dawn Hayes-McKay

A poetry collection dealing with transitioning, faith and psychological health by a non-binary writer slowly getting better at accepting themself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garnett Dawn Hayes-McKay
• Release date: Sep 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005805579

Garnett Dawn Hayes-McKay

I am a "genderfluid transfem fluctuating between Girl, Demigirl, and Neutrois with non-corresponding pronouns and presentation", which is a super complicated way of saying messed up trans woman. I'm in my late twenties and began transitioning at the end of 2017, and started HRT in September 2018. I've been writing casually for most of my life, and am an avid reader of fantasy.

Book preview

64 a Pace of Change

Can't break down if I spin up instead,

Force mania from the shattered edges.

Lyrics are a different kind of language,

They make less sense the more you understand.

Where’d I go in the end?

When I finally stopped trying to fail.

Swim straight up till I run out of air.

Air is up right? The air below is a lie Forced

Through bellows.

I can't breathe this recycled air anymore.

Fresh Air?

It's a fraud. It's all a lie.

Reality is bullshit upon a mountain of half+truth.

I want to scream but don't want to wake.

I write and my mind slows.

It calms.

My pace.

Devolution is a half-lie to justify Eugenics.

The Tighter I hold to the Left-Hand path,

The safer my heart will remain.

A sane man cannot hold two contradictory values equally.

Good thing I'm neither.

I can breathe this air for a while longer.

The nausea is subsiding.

65 Missing Old Highs

It's been years.

Traded

Self-hate for Spironolactone.

Traded Ecstasy for Estrogen.

Traded Ketamine for antidepressants

Alcohol for actual attempts at happiness.

Fuck

I'm a mess

I want to get high.

Wanna get fucked.

I wanna be sedated?

No.

Searching for a new crutch to cast off.

Pills don't actually kill the pain,

No matter how many you snort.

They dull and recolour the world around

A pleasant illusion.

_I

__want

_______something

________________real

Please

Help me

66 Greed

Out of all the knives you sunk

in my back, I kept the one that dug deepest.

You hurt me so well, you could teach

a masterclass in causing agony.

In a way

You did.

I perfected all your lessons, and wield them against myself.

Someone has to,

Now that you’re gone.

I pretend it's you doing it,

pretend that you're still whispering bloody murder

into my ears. Tempting me with your horror.

Stop that. Don't blame me for your dark desires.

Slam your fists against Yggdrasil if you must,

For all the good it will do.

I'm not talking to you. You aren't really there.

Liar. You finally responded. You try to believe that

you are the hero of your story. You gaslight yourself

believing that I existed as more than a figment.

I tell myselves the quiet lies I need,

To deal with one part at a time.

You hurt yourself so much more,

Drawing out your suffering.

Fine. I will play along with this pretense.

For now.

67 not barrows

Valhalla isn't quite.

Heaven isn't either.

I don't want a paradise.

My soul is restless.

I crave my wings unfurled.

Is meaning too much to seek

at the bottom of a bottle. I want

to learn how to breathe underwater.

Bury me not in the Barrows. I

have no place in my ancestors hall.

Instead scatter my ashes to the north wind.

Frigg knows I don't pray enough,

Or read the lessons from the past.

My faith is strong, despite my failings.

I want no grave when I go.

I need no monument to my sins.

Looking instead over the family I've made.

68 Dialectic

Dialectical Behaviour Therapy,

Modified CBT developed by Marsha Linehan, PhD.

Designed for BPD and Chronic Suicidal ideation.

We will burn for eons.

Hush, Greed, I'm busy.

DBT and CBT, much different than DMT,

Joe Rogan's favourite psychedelic.

Dialectic,

Searching for solutions to the metaphysical

contradictions, I'm worrying too much about

contraindications. Are my pills really

keeping me up? Or are they speeding my spirals?

My worth is independent of the value I can offer.

//Or//

I am allowed to take pride in my abilities.

They both tug at me. To and fro, my current values clashing

and attempting to overwrite my past ones.

Sounds familiar. Are you certain it will work this time?

Obviously not. That's why I'm in therapy.

Pride is not a negative emotion regardless of connotation.

Pride is different from hubris, as I know all too well.

Pride, like the other deadly sins, is good in moderation.

Isn't that right, Greed?

So now you talk to me.

Well, yes. You are an egregore, created to

work through my issues, aren't you?

Am I? How insulting.

The Worth of a person, a sentient being, regardless

of race or species, is not limited to their value.

Value is – Hypocrite.

I've upset you now?

Continue, damned fool.

Value is merely a component of worth. Not

the focus, but to disregard value is to disregard effort.

Hard work is a virtue, of course. Knowledge gained

over years of experience is important. However,

We don't limit to such. People are not objects

to be bought or sold. Nor livestock to be slaughtered

when use runs out. We treated people as such once.

We knew better then, we know better now.

69 Nice, once again.

Today

Without real prompting

I made a change in my perceptions

Traded a label for another to improve precision.

I began to call myself a lesbian, months ago.

When I was first accepting my femininity.

It felt right and validating to me.

I prefer women over men.

Femme over masc.

Even still.

It's hypocritical.

I'm Non-binary, and would not date a straight man.

It's absurd to expect others to conform

To my sexuality, and reject their gender.

I wouldn't do that for another.

So I'm bisexual. Or pansexual.

Still Sapphic,

To pretend otherwise,

Wouldn't be nice.

I started where I left off.

Beginning once again at Zero (∅)

Seemed the height of dishonesty.

The ending was deliberate, but

Arbitrary. Many things are.

I changed my numbers. Nine seemed

Insufficient to hold the value I captured.

I'll go to F. I'm unsure how far this one will go.

As far as I can, the usual promise. I'll splinter

My psyche, before I give up. I said that

An unsound heart and an unsound mind

Cannot create real beauty. Well,

You dear reader, are my beholder.

Gaze upon my wreckage and judge.

Just this once, I'll give into

A different way of counting. 6A

6B Childhood Songs

looking back at songs I loved

when I was young, and closeted.

They screamed the Truth I didn't yet live.

"I'm just like Cinderella, locked up and hid away"

The more I review, the more I reflect

on choices I made, the media I consumed.

The Matrix, Fight Club, The Prestige

All stories of rebirth and hiding the truth.

They are looked at by society, through a

White Male Cisheteronormative lens.

A gaze that I thought I shared.

"You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son."

Peeling off the mask made the scales fall from my eyes.

I saw the truth I was trying to show myself for so long.

I saw my Truth.

I'm living it.

6C Stealing Silver from Mirrors

I'm holding this knife without a handle, spinning it as I scrape

against the back of a mirror I rest on my legs. The silver sloughs off

hesitantly and spills into a bowl, as I gouge my hands on the blade.

Silver dissolves as it mixes with blood, slowly leaking from my wounds.

They form a cinnabar of most vibrant vermilion as I choke on the fumes.

I work quietly, as not to wake us up. We do our best work while I'm asleep.

The first mirror done, I gently return it into place, my depression visible in

my reflection. No more lying to myself. No telling myselves that I'm fine.

Disgust builds