A search for solace.

You ask the Universe,
if it was a mistake
that you made.
Do I deserve
pain?
You fault yourself
for living.
You deny yourself
mournfulness.
Emotions are a gas.
You may try to keep them,
hold them,
bottle them away.
But there is only so much space.
It will seep
out of you,
a combustion
of you.
Self loathing will ignite
into rage,
then solace.

Love At The Hotel Chisca.

Light falls
easily
through the ever open
windows. Glass panes,
 left vulnerable with anticipation,
allow
rays of sunlight to pierce
the inner workings of a shell,
an abandoned hollowness. The
 light lands lightly
upon broken floor boards
and unpainted, dirty walls,
 illuminating the secret
of a forsaken stronghold.
Why would any person leave a space like this?
 A place once painstakingly fortified?
 Who do we expect to rebuild us?

Am I good?

Am I good
Enough?
I just can't grasp
Good.
Is it bodily?
Can you smell it?
Does the scent,
The cloud of my past,
Overpower my chances?
Perhaps if someone gave
Me
The opportunity to bathe.

(For Linda.)

Good morning.

Be careful where you lay your head
The sun will set and you'll be dead
Be careful where you lay your head
Your life be published, your life be read
Be careful where you lay your head
You make the sheets, but what's in that bed
Be careful where you lay your head
Dreams will go where dreams are led

I'm gay.

I’m gay. Know that I realize this lacks the surprise of the Casey Anthony verdict (though I’m sure it’ll hold much disappointment to some) and has the shock value of a Pixar sequel. “What? They’re doing another Finding Nemo, but the first one was so average.” To a few, this may feel like a sequel. “Isn’t his twin brother a queer too???”  Yes, we were born this way. *Cue Gaga* I am hoping, however, that this is more like Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, self-explanatory,  and less like Son of the Mask…..Really? Don’t remember it?

For a good, long span of time (20 years), I have been playing it neutral.  In a reality where all three of your sisters are pastor’s wives, the decision to come out could also become a decision of eternal damnation (bring SPF). I should note, however, that I have three very loving, beautiful sisters, who care about me very much, but that’s exactly why I am writing. Many young people with my sexual status have been unfortunately stranded within a family whose idea of support is punishment and exile, due to the misconception that children are more property and less people.  In my experience, most of this distress created by family and given to a homosexual is brought on by a spiritual belief, the one in my family being Christianity.

It is an extremely volatile atmosphere to grow into adulthood in, strongly feeling drawn one way by your body and fervently being taught and conditioned inversely.  All of you struggling with this one currently know that your body will ALWAYS prevail over your mind, always. In my life, my body has frequently led the way into the search for my soul. Think about it, what’s more trustworthy, some concept an outside source has given you to mull over, or your own flesh.  The biggest barricade in my search for me has been the Church’s idea that you have to “let your flesh die away” in order to become all that you were meant to be.  

Luckily, truth is the most potent and addictive of drugs. It only takes a single hit of veracity to completely ruin your life. I remember my first trip, it was the sixth grade. So many of my peers taunted me for being gay that if someone shouted “Hey, Fag!” in the hallway, I’d immediately look up, and then quickly back down as if I had a nervous tick. “I probably have Tourettes, going to the doctor this week.” I was in the bathroom, where I spent much of my time in school, this one located on the sixth grade hallway. Some very unfortunate girl in my math class, one of those girls who drew ponies on her notebook and cut her hair like Rachel Maddow, had asked me if I was gay. “Are you gay?!” she asked assertively and a little too loudly for my liking, “because I have a horse who is, and I love him just the same.” In a mad rush of embarrassment and in an attempt to be as rude as possible, I excused myself to the bathroom directly. Looking in the mirror at my blondish brown afro and the brail on my face to match, I laughed. And just as I laughed it came out, “I’m gay”. Not counting the current event taking place, this was the single most liberating experience of my entire life. As a result, I cried in that bathroom for the rest of the period.

There are most certainly children and young people in my vicinity, daily, which are just like me.  Growing up, all I wanted was an adult to tell me that there was nothing wrong with me. When I realized that I wasn’t inherently nasty or disgusting, I was free. My hope for all those living in this stage is that you live your life ardently and with kindness. Understanding that those who oppose you are not always an obstacle, usually they are merely senseless opposition, and a big waste of time.  I’m gay. I’m not a pedophile, and I don’t worship Satan (mostly because that went out of style).  I am tremendously happy, because I made the decision to live that way, and I hope you do as well. 

Head on.

Every once and awhile I will glance into the eye of things. Like when someone I'm with takes a swift turn in front of oncoming traffic. My heart races and I look straight into the faces of those that could destroy me. I wonder if they feel it too, if they can sense the life in every cell of their body awaken. I wonder if they too, sense fear and exhilaration simultaneously, the pleasure of panic. This is my love for you, dear. I am just passing in font of you, hoping to catch your gaze. But do I want a collision? I want to be held and secure with in my own car, with in my own. Yet, the idea of your life exploding into mine, tantalizes me. I have stalled, will you destroy me, head on?