Gays are no different
Because we have eyes, though some of us may be blinded
We have ears, though some of us might be deaf
We have fingers and toes, although we may not have all twenty.
Gays are not hell bound
Because we eat shellfish just like you do
We are flame resistant just as you claim to be
We have sinned, like every other person out there.
We are no different
We are wired differently as is every human in existence
We dress differently just like you
We all love differently, but we love anyway.

We say as our ancestors rebelled
We don't carry Satan on our shoulders as you have tought your children
We do our best to hold in the hate
And we feel as though we can acclimate others to their peers
We do not though, force ourselves on you
As you do to us

So we like rainbows
I can guarantee we fine more pots of gold than you
So we have our wn clubs and bars, because you have yours
She's a woman and he's a man, and there are no picket signs at their door

NOthing breeds us to disown and hate  but ourselves- so that is who we can blame or that's who we can talk to*

Gays are no different. So don't hold me from walking down an aisle

I prefer staples over tape.
I prefer someone who's high over somebdy drunk.
I prefer fixing the roof in the rain.
I prefer mashed potatoes.
I prefer teling my secrets to a plush otter than someone who can sell me.
I prefer loving her, rather than him.
I prefer a story that's not quite readable.
I prefer Paramore.
I prefer waking up when it's still morning.
I prefer the drumming of rain that spans over 24 hours  than a year of sun.
I prefer sticking up for myself.
I prefer picking my own battles.
I prefer power outtages as it snows.
I prefer wondering about people.
I prefer yeling to the oppression.
I prefer cuddles when I know you're not perfectly okay.
I prefer ties over skirts.
I prefer Polaroids over selfies.
I prefer to tie my shoes constantly.
I prefer cnvincing mysef she's on another trip
she'll return from, rather than believing she was robbed from us.
I prefer Sora.
I prefer masculinity on myself.
I prefer RedBox movie nights.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that we came out to be that high school couple who beat the odds and made it to forever.

These curtains they fold
These lights they shine
And this microphone
It echoes to eventually fade out
I am abandoned to see the chipped wall paper
Soft resonance substitutes yet
My voice is still clenched
Gave way as I beg for
Some to tell me anything anyways, like it's my right
"Speak for her. Encore, encore"

Shambles with bullies and rigs
Fumbling to my chest I lose my breath to
lose my balance

Oh these symbols they rain
And this rain hits
Swallowing us as we manage to
Follow our feet and walk
the walk where our hearts are spread out like
A smock n Picasso or Poe

Troubled to dangle on
Speak for her, encore, encore.
Dripping a nuisance
For my Father I am foreign to your tongue
As I do not intend to spread misguided fortune in a sin
I crumble in my lips speak for her.
As I do not have substitutes
Will you hear me either way.

Below the sun starts to droop
like my eyes in the winter haze
Swift and aloft, mesmerized
The penny looses its shine
And the well seems fit for drowning

Rummaging the the rubble
My heart's not a store
Scarred and broken
open through the door comes the looters

I am robbed
bobbed for a bite on the floor of unseen
Though these eyes are sore for looks
Scandalizing props a broker through
stained glass windows
faulty ceilings and fogged up glasses
Elapsing through the Praise scratched Lord hands

Am I left to compose
Iced over good mornings as honor and parishioners rumble over
Where am I headed, where do you go?
plastic pieces flexing
Docking down to where the light never seems to hit
But we take mark with a bouy-
To say your words *"This is how far I got"

Through my meadows I burn
To the chimney stack scoffs
And the melancholy sweeps to rotate the blinks over
and over and over again

Sora
Sky
Empty

Take me to your sanctuary
For I will
Empty out the skies to keep them within my heart

Falling into the dream
That I've fallen asleep to every night
With Kairi falling higher and higher into those emptied clouds
And I pray that there's still enough left to cushion her fall

Tell her that I'm at the station
My train's come to let me replace
And bleed out the skies so that she can fall asleep to the stars again.

With the starfruit brushing the shores safely before
I wanna line the pieces up, yours and mine.

Smooth iceman
Sitting in the cinema
His hair rustled by the claps
And his identity is just in his clasps

Shadows flow
Echoing cries of the wolf
And then it's black, serpents
Strangulation and presents

Brought up to restrain
Beasts roam from the trainers

As the iceman
Sitting in the cinema
Regains power and steers
Turning back time, to simply reset

Before the wedding cake tiers
Slide and droop, they fall from tire
Falling to the end
The serpents came out of the den

As he was slipping, the iceman, the painter
Began on himself, to repaint

And the power of the anagram, endless

Labels. Square. Cut. Legible enough to judge.
To rank and trivialize, hollow out a once million dollar view.
Leave only the shattered confidence and trampled mind to litter the scene
The roof of a skyscraper seems inviting with a
neon sign reading "Thank society for this."
You find yourself weeping, attaching, flooding your gates
To this sign, next to where you're going to surrender
Because no letter, no word, no other human
could grab your slit wrist  and lead you away. To say
"**** the square, cut, legible enough to stand scenery. Stop painting with your running blood"

Go with a plastic bag.
No- not over your head. Pick a size off the shelf
Now pour that million dollar view you make up in the bag.
Drip a few branches and some lamp posts,
or paint the sky arching to the shore with a flock of birds swirling around
Make it bulge
Warmth radiating through
Now toss it. Throw it. Hurl it. Hand it.
It holds, it shifts from a silent setting in one eye to a hurricane coming

Though the contents are still exactly the same
You cannot escape interpretations
For fear of the unknown and the trap door to never open up beneath you
But you can be a plastic bag instead of a box.