Bevelled slick edges,
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
Chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
Wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
Daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.

it took me nineteen years to realize that sometimes
you are the five year old child with sixty cents of hard earned pennies in your sweaty hand
and even though you smashed your piggy bank and clenched your fist around your life earnings
and counted it out loud at the register one at a time
that little red bike with the horn isn't meant for you
because sixty cents can't buy love
and all of the tears in the world will never change the fact that every particle of your being wasn't enough for a soul like his

you wrote a poem once about how i was a flower and you were a monster and you dropped your grape juice on my white peddles
you spelled petals wrong
and that bothered me
but the idea that i was beautiful enough to be somebody's muse
well
i was willing to overlook the fact that you weren't good with hearts, so of course your faults with words meant very little to me
i dreamed in purple once
and grape was the taste on my tongue when i woke, which was silly
because your poem didn't really say anything about knocking a glass onto me like a paperweight to watch me suffocate as its juicy contents stained me violet
i just thought it sounded lovelier as a white lie
like you didn't mean to hurt me and it was just an accident

you told me later you made me a flower because they are at the mercy of whoever plucks them from the garden
and that's when i knew that you knew you had bruised me purple on purpose
i just don't like to think about the part where you are a monster

I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.

I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.

Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;

For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.

No Matter What I Still Love you
No Matter I Will Always See
You, So Young And So Beautiful

So filled with life a young soul
A great mother
I Know you try
As you grow older

No Matter What I Still Love you
No Matter I Will Always See
You, So Young And So Beautiful

I want you to see,
yourself through my eyes
you deserve so much more
and I know one day
you will have the world,
but everyone's trying these days
But your going to be okay
and the world will see...

No Matter What I Still Love you
No Matter I Will Always See
You, So Young And So Beautiful

A man standing tall; a madman in leather shoes.
With a wave of an unseen hand, with the aid of a pen,
The thoughts and minds of a species are forged.

The beasts teach by doing. The evolved teach by writing.
Yet a word only contains the truth one assigns to it.

So where does honor reside?
Where does that unconquerable and objective
Nobility rest its tired limbs?

Is it found in the ****** of lawlessness?
Or in the temperance of our betters?

Is all certainty lost to them?
With abandoned streets and crowded fears,
The evolved, so different from the beasts,
Look nervously for that that unseen hand.
That hand aided with a pen.

And still,
Safe amid the outer rim,
The beasts look on.
And the proud and evolved accept their blindfolds.
An existence where truth and falsehood ...
Where good and evil ...
Where freedom and imprisonment ...

... Are all just words written by an unseen hand.

If I could snap my fingers for you
Take your troubles down
A peg or two

Unencumber you from life’s demands
And set you free
In a moment

I would not

Don’t get me wrong
It hurts to walk away
To wake each day aware that you’re in pain
And feel your years encroach on time
You won’t get back

But if I took away the gift you have
Given to you by years
Of indecision and opportunity

You would not know
The joy of freedom
It would feel empty
You have to earn it

It is not taken
It can’t be bought or sold
Your rights to it are eternal
If you believe it to be true

It’s up to you
To grasp the thread of hope
That waits in you and leads through pain to joy

It’s your decision
Only your footsteps matter
No-one else can get you there

And it sounds horrific
But imagine the alternative,
That there is another who could carry you:

What if they left or died or disappeared
What if your only chance at life
Lived somewhere else?

Your chances lie inside you
They never die so long
As you are living

They are your one true breath
Your fight will be their name
Your prize their liberation

If I could snap my fingers and release you
I would not
But I will hold you close
When times are light and heavy
And life is at your side

For those who know what freedom feels like
Pay the right price
Every time