So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.

I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.

I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.

They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****,
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.

The storm rubbles in the eye
Of the man who never said goodbye
The lilac clashes against the fire
Home is the one place he is the liar

And the passion of flames fills his ears
The loudest screams, he does adhere
From the doubt he set at an early age
Caught in the cycle of endless rage

The scarred lips touch his own
The array of curls is not unknown
To the limit of time he did not speak
But in the stars the fire does seek

The bright light reflects
from my tear filled eyes
With countless vents
It is time to say goodbye
And I don’t reach out

My identity is a circus act
For those who find it amusing
I am not to overreact
Yet I am still self accusing
And I don’t reach out

I have to put up with more
Than anyone else
I have more to endure
In a world of parallels.
And I don’t reach out

I’m the human embodiment of Atlas
Holding up everything unfurled
But the sky isn’t just mine, alas
Not everyone is rivaled
And I reach out

The Bible says not to judge anyone, but does that apply to yourself?
The Bible says to love thy neighbor, but am I my own neighbor if I live alone?
The Bible Says to forgive others, but is their a limit I need to reach?
The Bible Says to love thy enemies, but what if I am the enemy to myself?
The Bible says not to lay with a man, but am I even a man?
The Bible says to not ******, but would I still go to hell if I was the victim?

On the church steps sits a boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
A book lies on the skirt of the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"Why are you not inside?" I ask the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"They kicked me out" Replies the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt

The church has "All are welcome" on its doors, refuses the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"What's your name?" I ask the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
Nothing is said by the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
I adjust my skirt and button up my shirt, as a girl in pants and a blouse welcomes me, the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt

I'm trying not to stare cause you're built like heaven
you walk back in the door, flushed
strong, but all curves and lashes
keys in your hand and your jacket comes off

delivery boy, talk to me?
you look different up close
and I'm wondering if i kissed you
would you taste like pizza sauce?

talk while I'm falling apart
i'm looking you dead in the eyes
and i don't get paid enough for
the way your breath makes your chest rise

oh, you're clocking out?
well, I'm stopping mid order
you want pepperoni?
i made yours with extra

If queer was a joke,
You’d be the first to laugh,
If queer was a guide,
You’d be the first one to be lead,
If queer was a song,
You’d be the first one to sing,
But when queer means queer,
You can’t accept it.

my life without you, your life without me
the saddest, worst kind of life that would be