"people are afraid to merge"
there's shadows on the walls,
stuck like glue
I've never seen anybody cling
so hard
the way shadows cling to walls
the way lovers might do

with significant others and
away from the crowds;
you're my hidey hole, my safety
my excuse
not to linger round
"come over," they say
not today, not today

they're loyal to these bricks
we made vows with anxiety
paint cracks and wallpaper
rips
but nothing will rip us
from these walls.
shadows, I see them clinging
for dear life
and not living

life on the freeway,
bet that's a fast one.
"people are afraid to merge"
standing out the top of a convertible
arms in the air
yelling, "I'm alive, I'm alive!"
and seconds away from tumbling
over the edge.
when his head hit the concrete
I bet his last thought was "finally"

whether it be your
local shop
or the park across the road,
a nightclub
or a library, or
the school where
your children go

we're here

the bathroom,
the classroom,
the living room and kitchen,
marching downtown
with a rainbow parade
or hidden
in the closet

we're here

we've been here
forever
did you know that
ancient Greece
was a homonormative society?
we've been alive,
just trying to live our lives

we're here

no less human,
no less susceptible
to hurt or pain
or love;
we love in bright, bright colours
and we love freely
never bound by binaries or convention

we're here

you'll never be rid of us
as we are not
a disease
to be cured.
all we want to do
is be as free to love
as you.

we're here

we aren't going anywhere

Neither Nightingale or Crow
Neither Whippoorwill or Sparrow
Perched on phone lines, never trees
Still those birds have the right to sing.

Target of bad boys’ B B Guns
Splashed with water canons
They fly til they can fly no more
And tremble in the shadows.

Their feathers have a bit of shine
When sunbeams fall just right
But all too often that just makes
Them that much easier to find

And targets them for hatred rocks
Thrown by those who only
Recognize a Woodpecker
And a Robin Red Breast.

Too bad their music goes unheard
Most often it is beautiful
If they could sing with the other birds
The music would become symphonic.
                 ljm

the best of men,
I know he is not.
the worst of men?
not that, either
somewhere in between
a little closer to
good
than bad
no matter how many times
he might
toe the line

you've met me.
you know me.
you've seen firsthand
how wrong
I can be.
not in sense,
not in academics,
nor even in instinct
but in morality.
you know that
he is just
a darker shade
of me.

I know that he
self-destructs and
everyone around him
is the collateral damage.
I don't think that you know this.
I know him
better than you do.
your world is
more black and white
than mine;
I see in shades of grey
and colours
a childhood of red and
purple, and
he did too.

what you see as
malice
I know to be
self-hatred.
I understand him
in a way that you cannot.
our hand grenades
are glued
to our palms;
it doesn't take much
to set them off.
do you know what it's like
to be a ticking time bomb?
I do, he does.

I don't excuse him.
please don't think me
blind,
I see perfectly well
when it comes to
matters of the
heart
and the mind.
but for now,
just for now,
when I'm with him
I am living.
he makes me feel alive.
so for now
just for now
I'd like to live one last time.

do you feel that?
the crescendo of emotion?
the crest of a wave
of inexplicable
something
that just drowns you?

do you feel it?
the weight of your own
existence?
this inexplicable urge
to lie down
and cry gently
for no reason at all?

do you feel
what i'm feeling?
an appreciation for life
whilst
hating being alive?
falling in love
with the universe
and out of love
with yourself?

do you feel that?
are you drowning in
existentialism?
does your chest
feel like it's
imploding?
are your lungs too big
for your rib cage?

do you feel it?
do you feel
what i'm feeling?
do you even feel
​​​​​​​at all?