If I kiss a woman, I am a lesbian
If I kiss a man, I am straight
I have this illogical need to scream at the heavens from atop a cliff
To scream I’m here in this world; I exist!
To say I am just bisexual is wrong
To say that certain aspect of me is the most oppressed is wrong
I am a woman, I am bisexual, I have tourettes, I have depression
I could go on for hours saying I ams
Saying statements that describe me
I am oppressed and stereotyped by the society I live in
So why is being bisexual the one I defend the most?
I asked myself this daily
Until I found the answer
Every other fact about me is undeniable;
I have a ******
I have diagnoses
That is tangible evidence
I have no sheet of paper with a signature of some fancy M.D.
Nor do I have some body part that labels me as bisexual
There is no definite way to tell if I am bisexual
Which makes it easier for people to say You’re just confused or It’s just a phase
And no matter how often I say it’s not; they won’t believe me
They don’t believe me because I don’t have the evidence they want
I don’t have an M.D.’s signature
I don’t have that ‘bisexual bodypart’
All I have is my own knowledge
And I don’t give a **** if that’s not good enough for you
Because I do exist
And I am here to stay

Leading two different lives
Takes its toll on the user,
Tires him down,
Reduces him to nothing.

I try to be the son
My parents always longed for:
The perfect guy with the perfect life,
The epitome of all that is good.

My accomplishments make me proud
Because they make my parents proud.
And I have to marry the perfect woman
Because anything else wouldn't do me justice.

But then I leave home,
Hang out with friends,
And I realize I'm not that son,
And I never will be.

I like men and women alike
And have had *** too many times to count.
****, cigarettes and alcohol
Help me forget who I have to be.

I get messed up
But never tell my parents
Because they need me to be
The perfect son.

Nothing quite so exquisitely painful
As watching the one you
(Maybe)
Love gaze at a man far better than
Any woman you could hope to be.
Your heart wrenched with
Possibilities scattered to the spring wind
Like a thousand seeds of hope-sorrow.
He's better than you. She's better than you,
How could you ever hope to lure her from
A better man than any woman you could
Ever hope to be.
Golden-honey curls that will never
Wrap around my fingers are spread over
Notebooks full of love poems
To a man far better than
Any woman I could hope to be.

language warning*

So what.
I am a person, with hobbies
Interests

We need labels to understand, but I don't remember anything about labels to discriminate.
How can a feminist be racist? Or any other paradox

They are just labels- to explain and no more. **** all of those *******

So... I'm bisexual
Shock!
Horror!

Nothing more anymore
Identity limited- Why the **** should it be?

To say that just one of my labels defines me, it makes me inferior- well that makes you as a ****

The Jewish labelled with their numbers- me with a word- do you see what you do to me
And to yourself.

i laid down across the desks
     like always
and started writing
     like always.

i felt her hands on the back of
my upper thigh
she wasn't trying to arouse me
but i could feel her little fingers
bumping up my thigh in
a rhythm, thumping while she texted on her phone
and i felt a light touch on my ****
a packet of papers
and another pair of hands doing work
on their work
on my ****
and i felt the light massages of her fingers on my thigh
and i wondered if other girls felt this way
when they were touched
and i wondered what made me different
and if i was different.

Rain water soaks us
Runny mascara, but you still think I'm beautiful
Lips so soft
Lips so sweet
We're pressed up against each other
Bare chest to bare chest
You on top
Me on bottom
Hips locked in place with the other
Warm soft sweet lips slowly caressing my body, my lips and my neck you **** on
Soft gentle hands caress my ******* thoughtfully
Finally, her lips reach my thighs, I, trembling with lust and fear
I was scared and she knew it
Her hands and lips touched me
*So softly, so gently

Just because I potentially could love anyone
It does not mean I want everyone.

Lack of prejudice: that's what I do, and what should be embraced.

At first sight, any person could fascinate me.

Every person is unique and unreapeatable. That is absolutely stupendous.

Some people just don't get me.
But I'm the one who cannot understand
how someone could be so picky
to the point of defining somebody's essence
for this being's gender
before its soul.

Maybe all this time,
all these feelings I thought I had
weren't what they seemed to be.

Maybe I went numb
because you weren't
a warm bath,
you were ice water.

Maybe I buried that part of myself
so long ago
that even I don't remember
where it is.

Maybe I need
to find it.

Maybe I already have.