Aubrey Phoenix

That’s what I mean, though-
Everything has burned down.
I’m rising from the ashes,
Albeit traumatized and shaken,
But I’ve never felt more alive.
It feels like The Universe
Has stripped me down to my bare soul-
Pulled me apart into pure essence,
Leaving behind scattered nouns and adjectives
That I’ve claimed in this life,
Ultimately, it all means nothing.

I mean, seriously;
I was once a daughter,
Now I want to be a son.
Instead, I’m not sure I exist at all.
Certainly not to my parents.

So, which is true?
I used to be Savanna
But I don’t even know who that is anymore
I was her once, but she is not me now.

How could one’s ego not die in these conditions?

Nothing tangible lasts,
You can acquire things, but what’s the point
When one day the other shoe will drop
And you’ll lose it all anyway?

Staring down the cliff, I inevitably have to dive,
About to lose my pets, my bed, and my mind.
It’s terrible, but I can’t help but laugh maniacally,
And not just because I’m off my meds.
Raw truth is often found in insanity,
Though most fear unfiltered notions-
They don’t want candor unless it’s sparkly.

I mean, this is just “another one of those” situations to me.
I feel like I’m ultimately doomed to die and lose it all,
But somehow, I survive the blaze every time.

Believe me, I’m not cocky.
I know it’s a dangerous line to walk
And that each day that I breathe fresh air
Is a gift for which I am very grateful.

This poem appeared in Record of Dissent: Poems of Protest in an Authoritarian Age — Summer 2025, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project. We’ll be featuring each poem from the collection individually in the weeks ahead. You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.

Aubrey Phoenix is a twenty-six-year-old nonbinary, neurodivergent, alternative artist struggling to survive in America—but surely not the only one. Raised in a self-help, toxically positive “it’s all in your head if you get sick” household, they hastened away from adolescence into adulthood, naively trusting that the world would welcome them on a path to their destined success. Their rose-tinted glasses shattered when their existence and truth proved time and time again to be something they would have to fight for. Their first book, All The Things I Left Unfinished, shares poems from some of their rawest moments of self-discovery—harrowing accounts of parental trauma, heartbreak, and struggles with bipolar II disorder in early adulthood. Five years, lots of lore, disowning, and some domestic violence later, they continue to scream out loud—still trying to make sense of their life and their place in a society that would prefer they stay quiet or cease to exist. Healing, growing, and humbling are lifelong quests—but Aubrey carries on sharing their story in hopes of reaching others who have been forsaken by a family and a world that they once hoped would make space for them, or at the very least let them be. You can find more of Aubrey’s work on their new website, aubreyphoenix.com