I came out of the closet swinging my **** around all the while singing and wearing a crown it’s nice to be here out of the darkness now the way I steer is the farthest without a harness I go wherever I may it’s the greatest decision I ever made and all I had to do is say that I’m gay.
It’s National Coming Out Day:) if you are facing questions or issues with your sexuality you should reach out to family and friends you can trust. If you don’t feel you can trust anyone then please reach out to a positive and supportive online forum of people with a similar modality.
once you choose to leave the closet you can never crawl back inside so he stays hidden unseen silent waiting for signs of change the accepting sound of safety it takes a certain level of brave to leave that anonymous space to know the closet will always be open and choose to leave it anyway
When the apocalypse came it was not raining fire from the skies no schism in the ***** of the earth, the seas are not swirling over, nor the rivers welling up in grief; Quiet as tears of the early sky we mourn - how many more do we count lost and begone? Shovels and pick axes say ‘no more’- a touch and hug and a word of cheer, who knew death comes in garbs so dear ? there burn the pyres endless in their dirge, painting distant the Sun in hues of the dark and we hope and we pray, let this be it, Lord, if we must suffer let this your coming be then - for we can’t take this anymore How many more do we lose ? How many the logs that weary feed the fires of the infernal?
growing up has been holding eulogies for the people that i used to be maybe that’s why i’ve been wearing black since i was bruise kneed and fourteen when i look in the mirror i don’t recognize the girl i see but when she stares back there’s a sort of comfort, in her hunger pain frame... grown out of the cracks of the city like a **** on the sidewalk— surviving despite being stepped on.
when i was older i knew who i was, bright eyed and bushy tailed, bruising my lungs with the songs i’ve sung in sacrifice for this body is a temple but it is far from sacred and i am the god to whom it is devoted.
it’s raining salt like sunday nights, self doubt and sea water, everything i could be escapes from my mouth faster than i can breathe— i woke up tired seven years ago and i haven’t recovered since.
i wear myself like my second best skin, we are the mask and the wearer and every me is me the past is just as infinite as the future but i’ve been holding eulogies since i was fourteen and mourning is always harder on monday’s when everything is new but me.
— when i was older
not fond of the title for this piece. feel free to suggest a better one below. still experimenting with line break and punctuation (was written to be spoken word more than read. attempting to replicate spoken word with punctuation)