#disparate
A zip runs from my forehead to my bellybutton
Pull it down
step out
fresh and new and clean
"you ruined me," I say at the sobbing sick-stained fat
thrown on the bathroom floor
For all She's done
you still can't see Her beauty.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
What if I just sat myself in the chair with open ears to silence?
In quiet, would the voices play over and over, even then?
What if I unplugged myself for a moment, no longer?
Would it be time enough to see the vitriol I become?
In quiet, would my love be renewed?
In quiet, would I realize the pain created by hating the hater?
More than disparate views, I hate anger. I hate violence.
The master's walls resist the master's tools, I read it.
Even she, she would despise my guise. "Oh, really?"
She'd maybe say, "Get lost. Be gone." I feel it.
What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
Do I spend my days hiding or out fighting?
What do I do when I'm part of the crew hated?
What if I want to change minds and hearts slowly?
What if sudden, forceful changes break us?
I think you know the answer -- we're primed to explode
And I don't
Believe a racist, transphobe will ever love me, or learn me.
And I don't
Believe a word, a turn of phrase, deserves a bullet in the brain.
And I don't
Believe for a second that I'm anything but truly naive.
And I don't
Believe that's bad.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC