When it all goes quiet
Behind my eyes
What I feel is the paradoxical
dissonance of comfort and frustration
coursing through my veins

When it is quiet,
Existential and emotional
Weirdnesses hit like
A five year-old
Soft-armed vice grip
Around my puppy dog
Chest and knees

Squeeze, burn, repeat
Like some ****** up
Manila slum beauty salon
where This type of shampoo
Burns my eyes for days, weeks

Not just for that moment before
Approaching the eye-rinse station

Because you seek the kind of validation
And appreciation of your masculinity
That your wife, girlfriend, children, parents
And Soccer bro's do not afford you

And I know it is my fault
--the gay community warns against
falling for the charms of the man who--
Oh yes--will love you

But not the way you love him.

That is, of course
Unless you can coax, ****
And dump him like he has done
To so many girls

But

I am still blessed with
The ability to feel and share
The warmth of my mother's
Gray eyes, and arms, and
Sun-dried blankets

For what--if not this--
Am I really here for?

I overflow with colors
From that rainbow
pressed into the Earth's clay

So let the geyser gush
I guess

And in the meantime
I will search for sacred and
Grace-dipped patience.