coming out

bein’ born a soft boy made things sometimes unpleasant
in secret ah held parties
“down there” gatherings of fellows lookin’ ta explore wat pleasure can be found
in giving throat
in public ah picked flowers
amid taunts an’ slaps
mah chest a target fo firing squads
mah speech in question
ah heard “man up” before it made any sense.

wat is man feelin’s
an wat about a world dat creates em’
an’ wat will it mean ta have dem seen an’ gone?
wat creature will ah shape den?

patriarchy is de though had eatin cuties while lookin at cuties
it is de thought urging conquest
seeding
an’ breedin’
he demands dat every man be mine
an’ says dat cause him is cute dem him is mine
lak slavery cattle
lak dere beauty is somethin’ dat ah have sole right ta affirm an define
lak all bodies are on auction blocks

when in truth, de fact dat all bodies is beautiful has little ta do wid me
de just are
till spirit makes em’ otherwise
an all bodies belong only to deyselves.

de taste of dis reminds me of how foul a poison it is.
it sits on mah tongue
an’ everytime ah remember
moodswings an’
spirit calls an’
maddness an’
sirens an’
men cryin’ at me cause a forced charm made dem believe love in me.

addiction
possesses
speaks fo’ itself
it don’t ask permission ta inhabit

ah wonder if mah mother’s tongue felt dis
ah wonder how other hands can hold me- if dey sense affection when it’s dere
. . . wonder if dey smell out de half truths.

sugar is a kind of meth
lak gossip
lak sex
lak money
an’ so is charity
for it distorts
lak
Babylon, an’ mcdonalds,
an’ television
an’ suddenly ah wonder where an’ why ah felt sick

on de second day
ah use to forget de lies of yesterday
de pain of dissappointment breedin’ through self hate
an’ mah body is sucked into itself
clothes don’t fit right
ah scratch
food sucks an’ folk always appear sad

ah am sad
ah want death
perhaps grand,
flowers fot only for goodbye
an’ of course horns

“ah am not sad”- ah write
ah am here, movin’, fallin,
an ah repeatedly come back
ta center, less mahself, holdin succulents as reminders
so as ta never forget dat ah too am immortal- growth is a possibility an’ regeneration a gift.
dis life- all energy an’ imagination
all a glow from sun kisses
all torn histories an’ patched families chosen

ah shake at night
am scared ta sleep sometimes
scared ta reach out fo’ help cause ah hate not havin’ complete control
it feel lak de beggin’ mah granfather warned against.
so ah self soothe wid wat tools ah have
bathe in lavender,
envoke eldars past an’ whisper apologies ta mah body
mah feet bleed blocks till
half grins, violent sex, an’ various dicks is present

addiction holds a pattern of bein’ triggered, speakin’ triggers an’ bein’ triggered

last day.
mah side pains somethin’ slight
an’ ah wish ah could hold dis always
cause forgettin’ de process indicates dat things still yet ta be learned exist
blah
mah days feel incomplete an’ ah day dream
write ferociously

ah can make mah magic material
ah can make mah magic material
ah can make mah magic material
ah can make mah magic material
ah can make mah magic material

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