12/30/2013
I Met the **** Hater

Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
that you felt like crying?
Have you ever felt so utterly Disgusted by someone
that you wished they were dying?

Do you think I feel gay guts and gayness in my genes?
Or did society manufacture me - one of their gay liberal machines.
I'm not sure which is better,
Either  way you'll make me a martyr.
But I'll be your Hester Prynne baby
with my Big Gay Letter.

I cannot erase
that look on his face.
when he told me **** ****, Go Away.
I'll punch you in the face just for being Gay.

A separation of message and mind.
Hateful judgment is not hard to find.
When I stand in the shower,
or sit down on a park bench,
I'm a **** to him clear as gay.
It's like he thinks I ate some magic flower.
My girlfriends don't fare much better - to him called a bar *****.
This guy is the part of society that makes being gay scary to say.

He thinks Gays making out in public can't be allowed.
He thinks Legalized gay marriages should be disavowed.
He thinks Animal ***, *******, and ****** are because of gays.
He thinks Gay **** between two women might be more okay.
He thinks *** should **** more gay people.
He thinks Criminalizing ****** would make things more equal.
He thinks Adam's choice of Eve or Steve is all that matters.
He doesn't care about myself, or your heart's fragile rathers.

This man is the **** Hater.
Not a rare breed at all.
He could be your waiter,
or your teacher,
maybe even your sales assistant at the mall.

I Met the **** Hater,
while I made out with a guy at the bar.
The **** Hater was kinda old, yet strong and tall.
But I didn't fall
down.
or become dehumanized.
When I caught a glimpse of his face
and saw that utter look of Disgust
that I just cannot erase.
I saw it in his face - the **** Hater's
'**** Hate.'

the distance has been growing longer
while my heart seems to grow so much fonder
of you and all those lovely things you do
making me hope to someday be
as unmistakably impeccable as you

and when you see me,
what do you look at?
the longing in my eyes or
the tension in my lips
and the way they yearn for yours.

and take me where you please,
tell me what to take a look at
raise my mind from the floorboards
to the way your innocence sits
reminding me of the purity of what i adore.

and some day will come
where our fingers meet the skin
of the other, under a shining sun
and our story will truly begin.

with touch, with eyes meeting the others'
never too much, not enough for another
but enough for us
to relish in
and trust

so my dear, i hope to see you soon
thinking of all the beauty i'd have to lose
if i were to forget about you.

Rainbows are just well-concealed illusions.
Always seen as happy, colourful... happy.
But don't you see, rainbows are really
All frowns. Made in rainwater and tears?
And soon, like all things they will fade,
Disappear like they never existed.

I don't see how
Worrying can make you
Tired.

But it does.

It makes me exhausted, it makes me an insomniac,
It makes me think crazy, it makes me worry more than I already was.
It makes me think every one has something happening to them
Right now
At this very moment.

Something is
Wrong.

But I'm tired. I really am.
I need my sleep.
But my mind is fighting,
Telling me over and over and over again that
I need to check one last time
Whether someone is okay
Whether someone is alive
Whether someone is someone is...

**** it, there's the mental block.
It happens.
Usually.
I think.
I don't know.

But what I do know is that
It makes me unusual,
It makes me sick,
It makes me not normal.

It makes people stare,
It makes people scared,
It makes people laugh and laugh and laugh
While they call me names and mock me.

They tell me I'm crazy,
Mentally *******, a
"Psychopathic pill popper".

I know that I am.
And I'm trying to stop.
But it's hard.

And I'm tired.

The train blows through the town
Like an ***** in a steeple
Its whistle reverberates through the streets
Opening the eyes of the slumbering people
The sound leaks through my window
Through the dog’s door and my key hole

Bad drug deals, drunken arguments outside my door
Cats meowing and police sirens screaming
The wind rustling in a rushing roar
I’m blinded by the headlights gleaming

The smell of bud and gasoline fill my nose
My eyes have their bags packed
Please keep the volume low
On this three in the morning soundtrack

Sun gets past the blinds
Birds chirping mercilessly
Pancakes being burned
Let’s have at it

But first, I need my coffee