the cold breeze crawls against his skin
powerful enough to give him goosebumps
but not the kind he's been searching

he treks against the snow, hurriedly
as if time is passing by too fast
and he's afraid he might fall behind

his constant worries trail him
like an unwanted game of hide and go seek
except he is always being found

he longs for the sun, an image
destroyed by the constant winters
that ceaselessly plague his mind

but he doesn't need to hunt for
what he already has in
the palm of his hand

all he must do is wait
for the snow to melt
and spring to come again

where i will welcome him
with open arms, like the ones
he so desperately yearned for

Baby if you call me at 4 am,
Too sad to even say hello,
I will listen to your sadness,
Until you fall asleep.

What if I just sat myself in the chair with open ears to silence?
In quiet, would the voices play over and over, even then?
What if I unplugged myself for a moment, no longer?
Would it be time enough to see the vitriol I become?
In quiet, would my love be renewed?

In quiet, would I realize the pain created by hating the hater?
More than disparate views, I hate anger. I hate violence.
The master's walls resist the master's tools, I read it.
Even she, she would despise my guise. "Oh, really?"
She'd maybe say, "Get lost. Be gone." I feel it.

What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
Do I spend my days hiding or out fighting?
What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
What if I want to change minds and hearts slowly?
What if sudden, forceful changes break us?
I think you know the answer -- we're primed to explode

And I don't
Believe a racist, transphobe will ever love me, or learn me.
And I don't
Believe a word, a turn of phrase, deserves a bullet in the brain.
And I don't
Believe for a second that I'm anything but truly naive.

And I don't
Believe that's bad.

Broke, sitting with half plate
Pasta, butter, spice
Shuffle through my old clothes
I used to look nice

What is nice, but smaller?
Smaller, smaller, still
String bean and potatoes
Go fine together

The grocer tries to tell me,
"Divide, conquer, divide."
"What is nice, but smaller?"

I guess the grocer's right