i can feel that i don't belong here.
feel it in their stares
their "airs" of "wisdom"
sat there the first couple days
feeling twisted
in my ways
and a whole lot more
than my gut
felt like puking.

felt like extracting
the pointy smiles
porcelain fingers of humanity
a constant war
with my painted skin.

if it is a sin
to condemn and judge
a brother
tell me with a smile
and a hand on that book
how so much hatred
and resistance
hides behind their
lash plumped eyes;
their porcelain hearts.

beating far
to the beyond that i'd go
if they could know
to accept like me.

i'm learning to uncurl
my foiled toes to the world
tread with the tips of my fingers
molding my identity, a print
the sharpest laser couldn't forget.

cast my rusty skin to the sky
so i could show them
we are brother
derived around one another
a formula.

a formula skewed
for porcelain mates turning out doll faces
on the conveyor
belt.

we are moving too fast.
i can feel that i don't belong here.
i can't feel their warmth.