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 Jul 2014 Tommy Johnson
Margaret
If no one
Knew what gay was
Who'd be gay?
Steal away at twilight's calling
make your bed and tell your lies
meet me on the lonely hillside
bathed in guilt and alibi's.

Take me to the singing river
hold me under, wash me clean,
rid my spirit of this longing
breathe to life my only need.

Lay me down on emerald pasture, moonlight pale with eyes aglow
make my skin your only comfort,
savour pleasures yet unknown.

Touch me where he shall not enter
take your hands and soothe my soul,
press your holy weight upon me
taint my flesh and make me whole.

Take me home in sacred silence,
once again we mourn our deed
hearts now closed, our minds preparing
tales of time, meant to deceive.

Quiet guilt it will not linger
as we crave to taste once more
taken hearts and love forbidden
wrapped in lies forevermore.
I rolled you up
Your insight, your beauty
And all the love you had to offer me
I threaded you with American Spirit
And tucked you in an origami wrap

From grass and earth...
To clouds
One hit
And the world went silent
I juiced the oranges
That grew from my limbs
And poked holes to drain sap from my shins
With needles and pins

You suckled from the fruit
Forbidden, it be
And leached life from this succulent tree
No scrapes on your knees

Tangled vines sprouted up
Took hold on my throat
And my small branches, one by one broke
Along with my hope

Do not follow me, dear
Into these woods, thick
The darkness will creep up on you quick
It's only a trick
6, 5, 9, 5
She walks with purpose
Strides like roots,
Her naked toes break even pavement
To turn the gears at the deepest core
In her favor

She runs the wheel
Collecting coins and gold stars
Which she blows coastal with a mighty gust
Morphing trophies into sea spray

Her neurons work as spindles
Making into thread
The fibers of daydreams
And she weaves it to webs daily
Despite the destruction that comes before dawn

She is creation
She is the West Wind
Bringing bouts of turbulent change and
Opportunity?
Who knows but her?
I feel inside out.

As if the inside of my flesh is exposed and vulnerable to the outside world,
susceptible to people and circumstance who poke and **** as they often  do- perhaps to test resilience.

Well what if I don't have the strength to endure?
What if it wears on me? drains me? kicks me around?

What if i don't want to get back up after I fall?
What does that make me?
Weak?
Un-stoic?
loser-like?
sensitive?
vulnerable?
tired?
apathetic?
finished?
socially suicidal?
in denial?

If i resist so much and close down so much and let my world shrink so much until i back up into the tightest corner that existence will allow,
until i resist life itself and contemplate death as a alternative to "living"

who am i after the image i've strived to maintain ever since i was taught to upkeep one is utterly obliterated?...

When I'm stripped down to my most basic layer  of inherent humanness

who am i?
Who am I!?

*WHO THE **** AMM I!!!???
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