When it all goes quiet
Behind my eyes
What I feel is the paradoxical
dissonance of comfort and frustration
coursing through my veins
When it is quiet,
Existential and emotional
Weirdnesses hit like
A five year-old
Soft-armed vice grip
Around my puppy dog
Chest and knees
Squeeze, burn, repeat
Like some ****** up
Manila slum beauty salon
where This type of shampoo
Burns my eyes for days, weeks
Not just for that moment before
Approaching the eye-rinse station
Because you seek the kind of validation
And appreciation of your masculinity
That your wife, girlfriend, children, parents
And Soccer bro's do not afford you
And I know it is my fault
--the gay community warns against
falling for the charms of the man who--
Oh yes--will love you
But not the way you love him.
That is, of course
Unless you can coax, ****
And dump him like he has done
To so many girls
But
I am still blessed with
The ability to feel and share
The warmth of my mother's
Gray eyes, and arms, and
Sun-dried blankets
For what--if not this--
Am I really here for?
I overflow with colors
From that rainbow
pressed into the Earth's clay
So let the geyser gush
I guess
And in the meantime
I will search for sacred and
Grace-dipped patience.