The screaming in my mind*
can't be drowned out by the music
anymore

is watching raindrops easier from heaven?
perhaps if they're still streaming down my cheeks
it'll be easier
from up higher

they
d i  s   p    e     r      s       e
like paint dropped into a glass
of melted ice
and try to enjoin once again
but are u n a b l e

they
tolerate
what they think they deserve
which isn't much
and push to give more
of themselves away

they
plop
like coins into a fountain
only asking for a wish
but not expecting one
in return

new year, new me.
old year, old me.

why can't i separate my problems, one from the other?
they just carry over.

I sound like him; we write poetry the same
and the silk flows from our lips creating a road
to the unknown dustiness that is passion.
we are splattered paint.

i am negative like her; we expect too much
from ourselves and from others in such
a fashion as to make our lives and those of others
completely and totally miserable.

i am the lone feather drifting into the weathered
blue green sheet that is the ocean.

the question is whether i will sink
or i will float.

I wish i had the strength to say
what i do quoth in rhyme,
but someday i will look away
and show my words in time.

So welcome my arms instead of words
and my lips instead of letters,
for nothing is surer than this is sure
that i'll show instead of speaking better.

It's a waterfall.
You know, the kind that cascades hard like
the white water rafting trips' featured waves
and just when you think they've calmed,
they're back even stronger.

They said they had their suspicions.
You've been more flamboyant.
You don't want to dress like your gender.
Stereotype, stereotype, stereotype.

But to be accused,
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US
To be yelled at,
YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU THEN?
To wish you were anywhere else but here...
Somewhere over the rainbow...

But I'll never be over the rainbow.
Contrary to her belief,
it's not a phase or something I'll grow out of.
It's genetic.
Contrary to his thinking,
it's not helping
when all my communication with
others is severed.

I'm gay.
There, I admit it.

It's not like I'm gonna scream it from the rooftops, and no,
it's not the reason that I really like bowties and short hair.

Can't you just
accept me?

The final blow
is when your family
decides you're too good
for that type of lifestyle.

WHAT MORE CAN I DO TO IMPRESS YOU?
I've tried my whole life to make you proud.

I guess this just goes to show
that being myself
will never be enough.

So leave me to my cascades and wet cheeks in bed-why do you care-
because we all know you're wishing I'm something I'm not.
Someone I'm not.

Disowning me
would have been the
far superior alternative
to the disappointment.

"Our youngest daughter is just like her father, but looks like her mother. And our oldest daughter? She looks like her father, but acts like her mother. Well...she did."