I Like to Read, You Like to Watch the Life Drain Out of a Person is a 56-poem collection. This was written between late 2024 and early 2025. The poems here confront mental health, identity, pain, resilience, and the complexities of existence. All of these are written from the perspective of a transgender man navigating life in Ohio.
Content Warnings
This collection contains references to suicidal ideation, sexual abuse, childhood trauma, emotional inability to regulate, identity struggle, internalized rage, dissociation, mental illness including borderline personality disorder, self-harm, self-erasure, PTSD, panic, and depersonalization. This work is not softened; it is shadow work in its darkest and barest form.
Why Read This Collection
These poems bleed, scream, and name what was never supposed to be spoken. This collection is for readers prepared to engage with shadow work, emotional truth, and the survival of a human being facing immense struggle. Each poem invites reflection, awareness, and empathy.
Sometimes we wait for a prince to save us… or discover we must save him ourselves. Sometimes the Prince Needs Saved is more than a collection of poem. This is a season captured in words, 69 pieces of lived emotion, written mostly in 2025. This is a book for anyone navigating love, grief, identity, or the quiet acts of becoming.
Sometimes the prince needs saved cover
Within these pages you’ll find poems that speak to the fractured and the whole, the tender and the fierce. Moments of heartbreak, moments of discovery, moments when identity is questioned and reclaimed. Each poem is a witness to a life lived, a journey felt in bones, in breath, in quiet nights.
Whether you seek reflection, understanding, or just a voice that meets you where you are, this collection opens doors to introspection, empathy, and emotional clarity. These poems are intended for readers who do not shy away from the raw edges of life, who appreciate lyrical honesty and emotional depth.
The ebook is available as a PDF download, easy to read on any device and always ready to accompany quiet moments, reflective evenings, or moments of self-care.
Carry these poems with you… let them sit in your chest, echo in your thoughts, and hold your heart when you need it most. Sometimes the Prince Needs Saved is now available for instant download. Explore, reflect, and become alongside these 69 poems of life, love, grief, and identity.
Ramblings of the Lost and Found is the second full-length poetry collection by Axton Mitchell. A transgender poet exploring the raw intersections of identity, grief, love, survival, and memory. Written over the span of a season in time. This 63-poem collection captures the in-betweens of life: the moments that break you, rebuild you, and leave you asking why.
Through vivid, intimate snapshots, Axton navigates relationships, trauma, mental health, queer joy, and parental loss. Each piece feels like a note from a storm or a whispered secret from a healing place. Either way, offering readers a deeply human, unflinching perspective on life’s complexities.
Content Warning:
Themes include grief, death of a parent, trauma, mental illness, identity-based experiences, and suicidal ideations.
Why You’ll Love This Collection:
Vulnerable and unfiltered exploration of life’s emotional landscapes 63 poems capturing the messy beauty of existence. Insight into the lived experience of a transgender poet, perfect for readers seeking connection, reflection, and honesty.
Visit Poeaxtry and the Prism’s Archive Cheat Sheet. Discover all post categories, with a blurb and link to full post archive for each. Then find every post in that category in chronological order.
One of the most sound pieces of advice I’ve seen in recent graffiti. Two other examples of good advice in graffiti in the post below. I found all three here today in Wheeling, West Virginia at the Overlook Castle.
This collection captures Days 13 through 19 of the 100 poems in 100 days creative challenge I am participating in. These entries were written daily. They were just shared as a batch in one post. The first 12 were shared daily as solo posts. These poems reflect a week of observation, reflection, and response. Each poem is a moment in time. You’ll find poetry that is personal, political, and more. I am documenting memory, grief, injustice, and the search for clarity and home.
While these seven poems are shared together, the writing continued daily,as it will continue until day 100. Future entries (Days 20–100) will be posted either individually or in small batches, like the first 19. This will keep readers present and on their toes as to when new daily poems are coming. The ongoing rhythm mirrors life itself: unpredictable, urgent, and evolving.
Each poem is paired with a Poet’s Note to deepen the context. It reflects on its inspiration. It draws connections between the personal and societal, and the intimate and the global.
Day 13 – 1/2/2026
“Rhyme”
Ukraine
Palestine
Venezuela
There is no point in trying to
Rhyme
Nigeria
Iran
Sudan
Their lives the cost at the end of the billionaires
Riches
Oil, minerals
Human greed
The West strikes again to save the Middle East
American propaganda machine
Poet’s Note
In the shadow of global conflict and the Christmas night bombing in Nigeria. This poem names the human cost behind headlines. Revealing the repeated cycles of violence. Then highlighting the ways ordinary people bear the burden of power, greed, and war. This is poetry that challenges the systems that profit from oppression. Naming places directly like Venezuela, Iran, and Sudan. I want to mention this poem is about all the places affected by these systems, and the people impacted. It is a call to witness what is often ignored.
The Top level View and the Rolling hills in the distance at Mount Wood Overlook in Wheeling, WV.
Day 14 – 1/3/2026
“Warm Places, Cold World”
I am blessed to have
many warm places in a world so cold.
My home
My car
The woods
places I feel safe
Yet when the lonely days are too rough
My partner’s arms
My mother-in-law’s couch
Or friends with shared spaces
Are places I am blessed to know
On this winding road, finding pieces of home
West Virginia roads once led me there
now the memories of
the place are
scattered
everywhere
Curating a place for me
after searching eternally
Poet’s Note
Written 1/3/2026, this poem reflects on the fragments of home we find throughout life. Safety, warmth, and belonging can appear in unexpected places, from people to landscapes to fleeting moments. Home is not just geography; it is collected through memory, connection, and care.
View from the top landing of the spiral steps at Mount Wood Castle.
Day 15 – 1/4/2026
“The Same”
Swipe.
F
l
i
c
k. M o .
v e
The days on the calendar float on by,
though they always stay the same.
R l o l.
T u r n. Change….
The numbers on the clock, never showing a repeating moment….
Though, they always stay the same.
Fast-forward or reverse, wherever you choose to press play.
World history or familial ties through bloodlines, cursed or blessed, they never look the same.
Though, they always stay the same.
Who is to blame for never making the change?
Those in history? Or Those of us living through its repeats?
Poets note
This poem traces the rhythm of repetition, the illusion of movement in days, clocks, and history. Swipe, flick, turn… As we do on our phones. Then we press play, like a movie, thinking we are deciding, thinking we are moving. Yet so much is actually left unchanged. The poem artistically depicts the movements we make on our phones. As well as showing how we rewound, fast forwarded, and pressed play on VHS tapes, DVDs, and more. Using both depictions to show time and how things change yet stay the same.
The lines stretch, scatter, and move on the page like our attempts to grasp time and meaning. Showing how moments pass, events unfold, generations bear patterns… Yet in their echo, the sameness persists. Asking quietly and plainly: when cycles repeat, who holds the responsibility? Those who lived before? Or those of us who carry the weight now?
This piece is both a mirror and a map. Acting as a reflection on history’s repetitions and the intimate, daily rhythms we navigate. It acknowledges the frustration of watching patterns endure while searching for change. Poetically playing on tension between inevitability and agency.
Axton a Transgender man posing next to graffiti reminding people to chose love over hate.
Pause here with me for a moment.
Did any line, feeling, or piece here stick out or to you more? I’d love to hear the details regarding which and the ways it resonated. Think about it and tell me in the comments?
or
At the end of this post you could comment a line, quote, or your full poem. Poems from the past, that align with these daily themes are welcome, as well as those written this week.
Any and all interactions or additional conversation pieces and starters highly appreciated. We enjoy reading your creative pieces, input, takes, reviews,reflections, and all the interactions in between.
Day 16 – 1/5/2026
A micro-poem on Grief
“Goodbye, Breathe”
I wish you had
thought to
breathe your quiet
warmth inside of me
one last time
before you said
goodbye
Poet’s Note
Today’s micro-poem captures grief and the longing for a final shared moment. Its brevity emphasizes the weight of absence, memory, and the lingering warmth of those we lose. Even in few lines, poetry can cradle the unspeakable and hold the echo of those gone. This was written in the shadow of grief after the loss of my mother. “Goodbye, Breathe” works at showing how some poetry is adaptable to any type of loss. Here I leave the meaning up to interpretation by the reader yet fully convey my feelings.
A Cute Graffiti Art Cat to Brighten the Post.
Day 17 – 1/6/2026
“Circus and Cake”
Downplayed self‑care in society
Overworked, under‑lived lives….
Romanticized
You work a hundred hours a week…
Just to spend all your time off feeling weak.
You barely scrape by.
Yet you have the mind to brag
and boast.
Making the hours you waste working
a competition to make yourself feel better…
No matter how much you try to… disguise it
it’s true
They made the working-class slaves
Then we thanked them for it.
They took away the circus and the cake. And instead of throwing a fit…
we blamed each other for it
Poet’s Note
“Circus and Cake” a poem reflecting on distraction through comfort. Small pleasures and fleeting indulgences that can pacify people while systemic exploitation continues. The stolen “circus” and “cake” are symbols of joy and entertainment. Throughout history, government agencies have used bread and circuses to distract their citizens. Panem et circuses was the Latin term used to represent this. The poem highlights governmental distractions and questions readers in different ways.
What has changed in our society? We had our stability (bread, cake, food, etc) and entertainment (circus, distractions that are fun, etc) all but fully removed. Yet we remain distracted. Why?
View of West Virginia, Ohio, and the Ohio River from the Overlook In Wheeling, WV.
Day 18 – 1/7/2026
Prelude: Axton curated the piece below while sitting at Mount Wood Overlook in Wheeling, West Virginia. Also called the Castle Overlook or just the Overlook. At present time tourists and locals alike use this overlook for an array of things. Most visitors come for sightseeing, unique photography, and outdoor hangouts. Others are drawn to public murals created by the local Wheeling Art Commission. Urban-exploration also tops the list of reasons you’d find an individual visiting the overlook.
But, for creative and emotionally driven humans, this paces exists to reminisce. Grief, childhood memories, or even a longing for home. Add to that the need to unpack big things in equally big spaces, that call us places like this. Last and maybe most important a giant serving of nostalgia. And now you can truly see why the overlook fits for these needs, as well as some mischievous happenings too.
“Cremated”
And every time I come home,
it’s a little
lonelier
than the last.
And every time I come home,
I wonder if
somehow
home
has picked up
and left.
Or did I?
Was the place I knew turned to crumbled remains with you? Cremate my home right along with you?
Ashes to Ashes,
Dust to Dust,
I still
just
collect
the
pieces
along the way.
My torture evergreen.
Poet’s Note
Written at Mount Wood Overlook in Wheeling, WV. A poem that explores home, memory, and loss. Sharing Feelings of grief and loss I feel when returning to the place I grew up since the death of my mother. The loss of feeling at home since she was cremated, “Cremated” poetically describes the cremation of home. The overlook, was built in the 1920’s. It was originally supposed to house a doctor before life drama got in the way of completing it. The structure now watches over absent families and scattered histories. The overlook castle (as locals call it) also showcases wicked graffiti, which doesn’t stay the same long. Here home is collected in fragments, in memories, and in what remains. For some reason, even when it feels lonelier each time I return.
Day 19 – 1/8/2026
“Vigilante Justice”
Let’s start a fire inside the United States,
figuratively, of course.
We can start by using oppression,
hatred, and bigotry
as gasoline to fuel this movement.
Melting down ice into nonexistence.
Covering the country’s soil in fluids
other than
spilled blood
from darker complexions,
the first time in a whole fucking year….
The presidency ….
has three entire years to go, still ….
Scariest thing, if you ask me,
the collective inability to remember how things were before…
When they were just a minute fraction of the pie closer to equality
We do not want… Venezuelan oil.
We do not want to overthrow……
Greenland.
Mexico.
Canada.
We want education, affordable healthcare, workers’ rights,
equality for all
Now
OR vengeance for each and every infraction.
Come tomorrow and on.
A vigilante is what we need….
And a vigilante I may soon be.
Poet’s Note
A piece that uses fire as metaphor, representing accountability and resistance rather than destruction. It critiques complacency, systemic injustice, and the erasure of memory. Then it names the need for moral vigilance and collective action. This is poetry that refuses to stay passive in the face of oppression.
These seven days trace a path through personal and global reflection, grief, memory, and resistance. They examine cycles of oppression, moments of warmth and home. The tension between complacency and action lives in these poems. From international injustice to intimate loss. Stolen joy and moral awakening find their homes here. Poems as witness, critique, and call-to-action. Each a fragment of a daily personal creative contest. Join me in observing the world and responding with honesty, urgency, and reflection.
I feel like everyone in the world could use this advice right now.
Please feel free to share this post with anyone you think would benefit from reading these poems in any form. Have an artistic or poetic friend? Share this with them and challenge them to create one poem or piece of art every day for 100 days.
Before you go, are you interested in supporting the creative dreams and goals of a small-town Ohio poet? Axton N.O. Mitchell the voice behind Poeaxtry is a transgender man with a neurodivergent thought pattern. He has a black belt in being a mental health warrior, he earned through lived experiences. The digital creations Poeaxtry by Axton designs always align with advocacy. Axton ensures Poeaxtry and the prism always keep community care centralized.
Cashapp. Paypal. Ko-fi. Buy me a Coffee. Monetary donations, subscriptions, and purchases are all welcomed. Comments, shares, likes, reads, reviews, and trades are greatly appreciated. We value any and all interactions, regardless of money spent.
Poeaxtry by Axton aims to destroy pay walls. Art & Literature have often been hidden behind these. By design paywalls keep individuals who need these creations most at arms length in a lot of situations. Here we offer many ways to access forever free work. While offering paid collections and items by trade for honest reviews or other indie creations. As well as advocacy based creations for free by form to those they aim to advocate for. Free Collections For Honest Reviews Ask about trading collections, physical items, and services. Free zine for Mental Health Warriors. Free Zine for Gender nonconformists. Don’t like forms? Email me about any of the mentioned forms or any other concerns at Poeaxtry@gmail.com or reach out to me on any of my many social platforms.
Poeaxtry Links. Portfolio. Random day. A different day. This book feels relevant to the last 19 days. Thank you for reading Poeaxtry by Axton’s original poetry.
More surprisingly sound advice from graffiti in Wheeling, West Virginia.
November has its own temperature in my life now. A private weather pattern that settles into the days leading up to my birthday. Sometimes even the days after my birthday too. When grief meets a date that is supposed to feel bright, something shifts, something lingers, and something refuses to fade. This poem moves through that space, the place where candles and memories coexist. The place where a mother’s absence still shapes the month and every breath inside it. I wrote this to honor that truth…
to let November speak the way it insists on speaking.
“No November Will Ever Be the Same”
November holds its own weather, a sky that remembers even when I try to forget.
My birthday rises, a candle in a tiny room that never carries your scent four years later… I have grown to miss it.
Four years without you, the month keeps its imprint, a bruise under the skin of another year, tender when I press it, tender when I don’t. I press it just to feel alive sometimes…
November keeps the ledger open, ink still wet, pages turning with your scent hidden somewhere between the cold mornings and the early nights.
People say time softens, but November disagrees. I walk through this month as if I am carrying two fires, one that celebrates my breathing one that flickers for the woman who taught me how to breathe at all.
What does November mean now? A point between what was given, what was taken? A place where joy and loss sit at the same table… neither greeting the other?
No November will ever be the same.
I keep moving through it anyway, candle in one hand, memory in the other, hoping the light I carry is enough to keep them both lit.
Poet’s Note
This one carries the weight of four years. The very echo of that week and a day before my birthday that will forever lead me back to her. Writing it felt like holding two flames at once. The one that marks my birth and the one that marks her leaving. The poem flows with the tension, the ache, and the pull. They meet at the quiet acceptance that no November will ever return to what it used to be. If you are someone who walks through a month that changed you, I hope this piece sits with you in a way that feels steady.
We all know grief never asks for permission to reshape a month, a date, or a ritual. It moves in and alters the light around everything that follows. Sharing this poem is part of learning how to keep moving. With my candle in one hand, and her memory in the other. I will continue trusting that honoring both is enough. November will never be the same, but it still holds space for growth, reflection and the kind of love that keeps shaping us long after loss has taken its form.
I was inspired by the sky Monday evening… blue, pink, and purple. In that moment I realised how my mother learned to paint. Four years after she died, every sunrise and every slow‑burn sunset feels like her newly found brush‑stroke across the horizon. This poem invites you into the space where loss becomes colour and presence becomes visible light.
The view that inspired this poem.
“Four Years Later, She Paints”
The sky’s been a little more beautiful since she left.
Four years now,
and she still finds her way back,
not just in dreams,
but also in color.
Pink, blue, purple,
the hue of the view she painted
this evening
the kind that makes you stop mid‑sentence,
just to take another look.
Never painted a day in her life,
she paints now.
Every sunrise, every slow‑burn sunset,
she’s learned a language that allows her to share even when she’s no longer there
Somehow I know she mixes those shades
just to show she misses us too.
And sometimes,
I think it’s her way of saying
I love you,
now that her words
don’t
reach
our
ears.
Poets Notes
This poem came from noticing the sky and realising it carried messages from the one meant the most… My mother wasn’t the painter she is now, in her absence she became an artist in the sky. Seeing those colours reminded me she’s still at work… even when I can’t hear her voice. Writing this piece helped me feel her presence not as a memory trapped in time, but as light moving, transforming, still reaching out.
Even when words fail us, love remains visible. This piece is a reminder to look up, to notice colour, and to feel the presence of those we’ve lost in the world around us. Let this poem and photo stand together as proof: what’s lost isn’t gone, it’s just changed form.
Introducing “The Best of Axton N. O. Mitchell” – A Curated Poetry Collection
I’m excited to share my latest creative project with you all. It is a carefully curated collection of my most powerful poems. It is now available online for your viewing. This collection shows some of my most personal work. It is thought-provoking and explores themes of identity, loss, and relationships. The human experience is also explored.
About the Collection
“The Best of Axton N. O. Mitchell” features five poems that hold special significance in my creative journey:
“Wheeling Roads: Mother’s Home”: A deeply personal exploration of grief and friendship. It also delves into the lingering questions we face when someone important leaves our lives.
“TDOV”: A powerful piece written for Trans Day of Visibility. It examines the intersection of identity, community, and the struggle for recognition in a world that often seeks to erase.
“Transitional”: This poem challenges societal constructs around gender, examining the journey from childhood expectations to authentic self-expression.
“They/Them”: A celebration of love, connection, and the beauty of relationships that transcend traditional boundaries.
“Hands-Off”: A bold statement on autonomy, identity, and the right to exist authentically without interference.
The Creative Vision
This collection is presented with a distinctive aesthetic. Powerful words are set against moody, grayscale landscapes. These elements enhance the emotional impact of each piece. The visual presentation complements the raw honesty of the poetry, creating an immersive experience for readers.
Each poem signifies a different facet of my voice as a writer, from intimate confessions to bold declarations. Together, they create a tapestry of experiences. I hope these experiences will resonate with readers who have walked similar paths. They also resonate with those who seek to understand different perspectives of their own.
Experience the Collection
I invite you to explore “The Best of Axton N. O. Mitchell” presented by Poeaxtry. The collection is designed to be experienced at your own pace, allowing each piece to be absorbed and reflected upon.
Are a longtime follower of my work? Or you are discovering it for the first time? I hope these poems speak to you in meaningful ways. Poetry has always been my way of making sense of the world. Sharing these pieces feels like extending a hand of connection.
What’s Next?
This collection shows just a part of my work, and I look ahead to sharing more in the future. If you connect with these poems, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
How does poetry help you process your experiences? Which poem in this collection resonates with you most?
The One Where I Got Published… Thrice. Dear reader in the wilds of the prism, You know those months where you blink and suddenly your inbox goes from “we regret to inform you” to “we’d love to publish your work”? Yeah. That happened.
In the past few weeks, I’ve had three poems accepted, two rejections (because balance, of course), and I officially partnered with Forever with Pride which is a UK-based queer e-magazine and online store that actually gives a damn about uplifting trans and minority voices.
It’s been a surreal stretch. Not in the dreamlike, float-above-your-body kind of way. However, more like I tripped into a publishing alley and somehow hit three bullseyes with a busted pen and a pocketful of trauma. So naturally, I’m celebrating. Well, WE are celebrating
SALE: 30% OFF EVERYTHING Ebooks. Prompt journals. Witchy spells. Sad boy poetry with a resistance arc. Cool rocks and MORE!
Whether you’re new to my work or have read me sobbing through syllables since the beginning, this is for you. These pieces were written between hormone shots and grief spirals, in hospital parking lots and on trailheads, with shaking hands that still wrote anyway. Publishing feels weird when you were never sure you were even allowed to speak. But here I am. Still writing. Still showing up. Still turning my story into spell work and eBooks stitched from leftover bravery.
Maybe you’re reading this because you’re one of the ones who believed before I ever had a byline. Maybe you’re new and wondering why this trans guy keeps mailing you metaphors about dirt and ghosts and gender. Either way I’m damn glad you’re here. This is just the beginning. That I know is a fact.
Community, Submissions, and the Power of Voice
The Prism Discord is growing — and so are the projects. If you’re looking for a place to share your work, connect with other creatives, and find opportunities to get published, come join us. Right now, we’ve got two major submission calls open:
Voices for the Voiceless — an ongoing eBook project highlighting art, poetry, and essays from marginalized voices in the aftermath of the 2024 election. Open to BIPOC, queer, disabled, immigrant, trans, and allied creatives. Submission cap? None for visual art, 10 for poems, and 2 essays. Deadline? September 2 (for now). The Joy They Cannot Erase a trans masc and nonbinary masc-centered collection that will become a full eBook project. Open to those who identify across the masc spectrum. More details, prompts, and themes coming soon but it’s already in motion. Looking for solo pieces and bros who want to go all in on one piece.
Got a piece that fits? Submit it. Got questions? Come ask in the server. Just want to read and vibe? You’re welcome too.
We’re building something honest, weird, and inclusive one poem, one eBook, one voice at a time.
Or visit the updates button above for more. Now that’s out of the way have a goood day!
Until next spill, Where the wild things write. Where silence softens. Where stories spill.
With ink, bruised knees, and gratitude, Axton N. O. Mitchell
@poeaxtry_
I ALMOST FORGOT! Want to sharpen your spell work or stitch cleaner lines into your prose? Maybe you’ve got poems that won’t behave, a story that needs scaffolding, or a website dream still stuck in your notebook margins. Udemy has become a favorite haunt of mine lately. Plus, it is stacked with free and paid courses covering everything from: HTML & web design (so you can build your own digital altar) Creative and professional writing (because sometimes the magic needs structure) Storytelling, poetry, journaling, publishing, and beyond Whether you’re a total beginner or someone who just needs to refresh what your brain forgot during burnout season, you can scroll through their list yourself right on the Udemy app or their website. No subscriptions. No gatekeeping. Just click, learn, repeat. And maybe finally finish that weird little writing project whispering in the back of your mind.
