My mind is a cøffer øf cømført,  
  take what yøu will at yøur lesiure.
    Wørry nøt øf replenishing the reserves.
      My arms are an øpen ørphanage–
        shøuld løve and høpe have passed away,
          find refuge frøm the cøld
            biting winds øf apathy in my arms.
              Sip frøm my pøøls øf patience
                and extinguish the flames øf frustratiøn
                  that grøw deep within yøu.
                    If yøu have guns før hands
                      then secure the safety              
                        and always pøint at my perseverance,
                          never at yøur persøn.
                            When yøu are weak,
                              knøw that my knees will knøck
                                 but I will cøntinually carry yøu
                                   till the end øf yøur days.

We sat together,
Staring up.
A cover of white.
Wondering to ourselves
"Will we ever take flight?"

We could be the paper planes
That we've always dreamed of being.
Soaring
High above the sky.
Not realising.

The yearning for more.
Learning and growing.
Thinking.
Stopping.
Breathing.



We sat together
Wanting to be more,
Like the paper planes.
The ones we love.
The ones that soar.

Warm, soapy water,
Filling a dented sheet of metal.
Heat escaping.
Slowly,
The spiralling steam surrounds you,
Smothering you.

The warm, soapy water
Is not so warm anymore.
The steam leaving you cold.

Soapy and cold,
The bubbles vanish,
Leaving a sting in your eyes.
There is no warm, soapy water.
Just a murky, cold memory.

People who fight
their battles alone
either lose the battle
or lose themselves.

The parachute won't open
I'm headed towards ground
My once white underwear
Is now a shade brown.

I'm here.
I'm queer.
Now, use me.