I hate how the words
"Lesbian," "Gay," "Bisexual," et cetera
Are thought of as bad words.

It's like, oh, no, don't teach your little sister the word lesbian
Don't tell her there are some girls who like other girls
How inappropriate!

It's like, oh, no, don't teach your little brother the word gay
Don't tell him there are some boys who like other boys
How disgusting!

Don't let anyone under the age you deem appropriate know
That there are people who aren't heterosexual
Why?
I can't possibly understand why.

There is no reason for homophobia, not really.
I saw a metaphor somewhere that went something like this:
"I was in Subway, and I bought myself a ham sub. As I was paying, the man behind me bought a different sub than me, and I was immediately offended that he got a different sandwich."
This is what it sounds like when people say homosexual people affect them.
How do they affect you?

Just because they don't love someone who is of the opposite ***
Or just because they like both
Or something else
Just because of their ****** preference, no matter what it may be
You think that gives you reason to hate them? Really?
Just because they're different than the 'normal' you're used to?
Normality is relative.
You can't say it's not "normal."
That is not a justified nor sensical argument.

What is wrong with those people?
Can't they just see past all their biases and realize that we're all people
And we all deserve the same rights no matter who we're attracted to
No matter who we kiss
No matter who we touch
No matter who we have *** with
Is it really that difficult?

We're all humans when it comes down to it, and we all deserve the same rights.
Everyone should be able to see that.

And you know what I wonder?
Why are we voting on whether people deserve rights or not in the first place?

And then there's people who act like homosexuality is a disease
People who act like anyone who is anything but heterosexual is broken and needs to be fixed

They're not broken.
They don't need to be fixed.
They are who they are, and the government shouldn't tell them what they can and cannot do
Based simply and only on who they're attracted to.

"You can't get married because you aren't straight."
Do you realize how shallow that is? Do you?
"You're disgusting because you aren't straight."
Why?
Why should it matter to you who they're in a relationship with?
It's their life, their decision.

No one ever asks heterosexual people why they're heterosexual.
No one ever says, "Hey, when did you decide you were straight?"
It's just ridiculous, and I'm fed up of it.

"If gay marriage is legalized, more people will become gay."
Oh, yeah, sure, of course, that will totally happen.
Just like when African Americans were given rights
Everyone decided they wanted to go out and become African American.
Just like when women were given rights
Everyone decided they wanted to go out and become female.

People of all sorts of sexualities and preferences have grown up
With mostly straight media everywhere
It didn't "turn" them straight.
So gay media won't "turn" anyone gay
It won't hurt anyone if there's a gay couple in a commercial.
Or a TV show.
Or any other form of media.

It makes me sick to think that just because of your personal opinion
My friends who are not heterosexual would not be allowed to get married
To the person that they love.

Do you know what will happen if gay marriage is legalized?
Gay people will get married.

Why can't you just understand that it doesn't matter?
Why should you care what they do?
Why should you care who they like?

It doesn't affect you.
It doesn't change you.
It's just giving LGBT people more control over their own lives.
It's just giving LGBT people rights they should have had in the first place.

**Why?

"Greedy girl," they whisper
For two was not enough.
I am not whole, with one more soul
I need two to give my trust.

Lovely trio of mine
I couldn't wish for more
Yet they call me a freak, "Love's for two, not three!"
They mutter that I'm a *****.

I'm not jealous or undecided
I'm not cheating and it's not abuse
Just because you've never doesn't mean three isn't better
For one who is not confused.

"Perhaps this is a phase,"
"No-one in their right mind would wish
For three or for four, how about two, who needs more?"
They all think just like this.

But I am polyamorous
My partners are in the plural
And we love equally, it doesn't matter that we're three
Our relationship breaks no ethic or moral.

So judge as you will
Judge as you please
I am proud of my *** and sexualities
And it's polyamory for me.

What is a *******?
But a woman
Who partakes in joy with another
A person who provides acceptance and pleasure:
Both emotional and physical
Despite being called "*****"

What is a *******
But a woman
Who nurtures and loves another
A person who provides pain and pleasure
For those in need for a strong hand to the light
Despite being called "crazy *****"

What is a pornstar?
But a woman
Who has the courage to bare her body to the world
A person who provides guidance and desire
To those exploring their sexualities
Despite being called "****"

What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who breaks society's taboos
A person who does what she loves
For those who love her for what she does
Despite being called "disgusting"
"*****"
"****"
"sloppy"
And so much more


What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who is beautiful,
strong,
empowered,
and a truly liberated woman.

For years I’ve had marbles tucked in my mouth,

Different colored weights that pulled on my glands, on secret saliva.

For years I’ve had marbles in my mouth and I forgot to spit them out or hide them away so I let them become permanent placements in my always-cavities; soon they even slipped so easy into my bloodstream.

The black ones made me say yes too often.

The reds made me want to bleed.

The blues made me cry, obviously. They stood guard on my tear ducts, deciding when and how to show emotion. They didn’t let me cry that night. They didn’t let me cry for months. Now I am crying almost everyday, and I am shooting those blue marbles straight to the moon; I’ve had it with avoiding emotion every day of my life.

The yellows made me want to forgive you, made me want to **** on sunshine, made me want to clamber into your mother’s arms, let her know that it wasn’t your fault. The yellows are *******.

The cat eyes have me avoiding eyes with every man on the street, so sure they will spit out words that they expect me to lap up like milk with an easy grin, tail twitching for attention. The cat eyes have me distrustful, have me always knowing it could happen again.

The rainbows loosened my tongue, had me admit secret sexualities, let me march in parades and kiss girls, had me falling over myself tripping into love.

I’m not sure who this poem is for anymore, or what it’s even about. The doctors say I have the cleanest bloodwork they’ve seen in a while, I don’t ask them about the marbles. They refer to some of them as disordered.

I’m not sure if they’re marbles anymore, I think they’re just me,

and I’m sorry I’m getting off-track, the marble in my hand right now is glitter and sparkle and confusion and I’m trying so hard to stay put.

Give me the orange ones, the fire, ones that looks like Mars

or Jupiter.

Give me two moons, or maybe sixty-six.

Give me a giant ladder.

This is about running away.

This is about playing with your marbles

and learning everything about them

and staying put.

Anxiety ******* tearing up inside of me. ***** ******* **** with some *** stained cavities and now shes coming onto me entirely. I should be like finally, but instead the anxious brain of mine avoids the blankets and gravitates towards the rhyme cause reality... what the **** is reality? My extended ****** up morality, apprehending the shortness of mortality or all these sexualities?
He, she, they, them.
See me hock phlegm.
Maybe stock them.
Lay low till' ten.
And then when,
They stop,
My pen cap,
Pops off,
Stabs lead into the head of the said ***, already wishing they were dead, but the use of a mag would cause attention, so I'm carrying a handbag full of pens. This is my pencil pushing, pen pushing straight into the gay neck, rushing to **** the wreck of a man and get paid through bills or a check again.

From my anxiety to killing gays, cause I'm willing to get lost in my ways of letting my mind wander, even though I kind of wonder why the gays were on my mind. The ***** that broke my heart was bi, but that's fine. I got nothing against you, unless you hurt me or the ones I love. You get two feet up your *** at once if you harm or speak bad about any of us.

This society does not wish to keep you safe, you are inbetween the cracks

You are the slums, you are the ghetto, you are the problem, you are the obstacle

You are the different, you dress against the code, you do not conform to what the male populous tells of you

You are the sick, you are the freak, you are the disease, you are the immoral

Your love is to another of the same gender, you are not right, you are a cancer, you are what is wrong

Do you believe your society wishes to protect you?

You are a different color, yet you are blood and organs just like the rest of humanity, the same as any other mammal

But you are the problem, you are the volatile, this is the certainty of this society

What of the kids?

What of our privleged?

What of the moral fiber?

What of reverse hate?

Countless excuses to mask the hate and ignorance which this society holds for those that don’t follow it

Excuses to cast its fire among the riverbanks, to scorch and burn anything it deems unworthy to it

You are fat, you are human, you live as any other person that walks and breathes

But you are ill, you are sick, you promote a sickness that is damaging to the health of the society

Do not confront the hypocrisy of the society, how it wished to damage the self love of you, it wished to destory your self esteem

You know what you are in your heart, in your soul, in your body, yet you must wear a permanent mask

You must live in fear of violence, of explotation, of the darkness in humanity

You are a monster, you are sickness, you are things that deserve no love

This is what the society tells you, this is what they wish of you, to know that you aren’t human

You don’t fit the normal constraints of love, you express it in ways that scares the society

You are immoral, you are wrong, you are sick

You do not fit to the normal sexualities, you do not fit to what they think you should fit to

You are a disease, you are sin, you are hedonistic mistakes

You, you are different, you are nothing like the model that the society wishes you to be

They are afraid of change, they know that with change, their reign will slowly fall from them

Do not believe that they wish to help you, this is only a crocodile smile

This is only the wolves dressed as sheep

They will try to destroy you at any point, this is their goal, for you exist, and that is a problem

You are a threat to the old ways, you are a threat to the old ignorance

For you will fight your whole life to get your respect, it is a dark truth, it is a sad truth, but it is truth

But you are a fighter, you always have been

Do not listen to their words, it is merely a way to break your bones

You are the moon, you cannot be broken, you control the tides

You are the sun, you are bright, you are radiant

You are the rivers that span across this earth, you are the life to many things around you

You are the flowers, you are the fields, you are the birds, you are the creation

You will fight your whole life

Fight for what is your respect

But you will win

You will

Win

Mornings born on a
      bowl of confidence,
or grain-flavored pellets
      that stick to the back of my conscience.
The day will end with a decision,
      a jury and court weighing the outcome.

Easily influenced by the surroundings,
      silk and cotton drapes,
one for the table and the other for
      obstructing neighbor’s view.
“Why is he not married? Is he even religious?”

It’s funny how their opinion wavers
      on a wafer in a building
made of the same materials as this
      kitchen. Did I leave the stove on
on accident or intentionally to burn in Hell?

I never thought it was true
      that we poke fun at the
things we fear most. I haven’t poked
      or prodded in my lifetime,
but my neighbors sure do.
      “No, Mrs. Smith, I embrace this loneliness.”

It’s almost as if they think I run
      a ***** house, or
have the most questionable of sexualities.
      I am as plain and inconclusive
as the toast I burnt – dry and unbuttered;
      it goes down unconvincingly.

I will sit in this chair, hiding from the houses,
      eating my dry meals
in the morning, under the beaming lights,
      possibly reviewing this day
in tomorrow’s morning.