Graphic novel for an english class

[soundcloud id='78582486' color='#ff7700']

It starts as a love story
where her voice filled my brain at the darkest times
and in return I made it rain for her.
Transformed tsunamis into summertime dances with two left feet and left-
thousands of raindrops kissing innocent cheeks.
We were flooded.
She was beautiful and I- captured the moments in tiny boxes so I would never forget them.
I made it rain for her today, and as each drop steamed on bare skin we danced.
And I wished it lasted eternity, so it did

and I am stuck in those moments like gatsby
trying to hold onto them
trying not to forget her
trying to not forget myself
norah jones always reminded me who I was
she filled me with love
filled me with something I cannot explain
it was magic

He shot from point blank range
leaving holes in her body that he touched gently and said
shhhhhh
the hand of man
touches the bodies of small children and they are blessed
outlines gentle souls of confused eyes
discovering what it means to be a victim

I refuse to believe this is right,
I refuse to believe this is manhood,

they've been forcing us into these impossibly small boxes
Silencing the slightest hint of self expression,
causing rape victims to be labeled sluts

causing sisters to fear walking alone on dark nights,

dodging glances on trains as though they were shrapnel

because men only want one thing
my daddy told me so and i decided
I would never be a man
but I had to be something

and I remembered, I am disabled
I remembered when I had to ask for a seat on the train when I-
Couldn't type complete words without hitting backspace
When I couldn't carry my cup of coffee to my desk without spilling it

I did the math and its the 7,876th time I've realized it.
That's 21 years...
You would think I'd have figured it out by now
But when i sleep
I forget
When I sleep I take shots of tequila without spilling a drop
and I drink in celebration,
not to mourn this sense of self
I'm not disabled in my dreams
I don't have to struggle

My body has learned to move in new ways
twisting like some complex puzzle into shapes
It moves to this music
flailing through muscles memories of seizures
and as this music flows through me, I am Proteus
the god of "elusive sea changeā€ only I change
myself into something I would rather be
the music flows through me and I learn who I am
I transform into an able bodied version of self
loving who I may

I find it beautiful
just as I find her beautiful
she too moves her body in mysterious ways
she- seduces the men who want nothing more than a girl for tonight
and we lock eyes
she tries to lock her body to mine but I resist
I did not come here for you
I came here for the builds and the drops
I came here for zeds dead
for the notes that twist our bodies into these positions
she calls me a bitch and I
call her beautiful
because she is
this I cannot deny
she tries to be what our world has taught her to be
an object
for men to use
I do not consent to this
I do not consent to security treating me like shit because they think I am on drugs
Or strangers asking me where to find molly
its just how I move
I was born this way
What an amazing life to be rolling every minute
every hour
every dance
its ecstasy
and I dance, dreaming of her
and I learned these moves from lucifer himself
we challenged authority and fell from grace
we challenged authority and dropped bass like acid
it broke beats and there was nothing evil about it
skrillex would be proud
we were all taught to love this music above any god

we twist words like saul williams
speak in jibberish only our ancestors could understand
like sho- nuff and it's on-
the beat goes on the beat goes on the beat goes ohm

but we are misunderstood
we did not write our own stories
They were carved for us in their expectations
We escaped into our own lives
and I labor in this room as a modern sisyphus
turning ideas into programs
over and over, I need to reprogram myself
and I've been locked in here so long the walls are talking to me
they speak in whispers barely audible
they are home
they tell me I am living correctly
that I am not a caged being
but I feel caged
I am frakenstein
a creation
made by social norms
trapped in a form that cannot be seen through
my body holds scars from the times I've tried to escape
tally marks on my wrist of the days ive been alive,
days when this deformed body has held this crystal mind captive

I don't know where I belong,
And maybe my cousin was just trying to guide me as I made my way through his room
through the piles of toy cars, his collection of action figures of impossibly large arms and, through his violence,
his desire to wrestle and overpower me, to pin me to the floor and punch me until he heard my heart break
I imagine this as a common occurrence in the boundary between childhood and adolescence
I imagine he too faces similar beatings daily on playgrounds like battlefields
And learned to never show pain from his father who, like mine, has mastered manhood with marine size muscles and plastic emotions

But I know this is not who I am,
And this makes me question what I am.
Questions I continue to ask myself to this day like:
If I don't work out,
If I don't objectify women or have desires for girls in two inch shorts or two inch tops
If I hope see myself being with someone I love
no matter what their gender-
Should I call myself a man?
Do I want to call myself a man when it means I must fit between the imaginary parabolic lines society has created?
Why should I limit myself to some definition of human when it tells me I should be the opposite of what I stand for?
I am not a man

this ends now
as a love story
where I've grown to learn how this body moves
Taught through music that filled a once empty soul
that drove me to be proud
and know that while I am disabled this disability is not me
I am massive
bigger than you could ever know
and I'm ready to change the world