#6: wednesday

it's wednesday,
but there's no reason
it's magical.

started counting syllables
but i gave up.
i'm sleeping in my room tonight.
waking up to charmed
"sleepover!"


we're here and we're queer
in case you didn't know.
hit us one by one, but you can't knock out
the whole damn row.

i'm writing this

because my heart shouldn’t pound in my chest when i round corners, waiting to see whether the poster i hung last night will still be there.

because i shouldn’t feel threatened in the place i want to spend the next 3 years of my life.

because 50 of my posters have been ripped down, in the midst of many other unrelated ones that are still standing.

because a flyer promoting a peace studies project can last for 2 weeks, but a gaypril poster can not last 8 hours.

because i had to get the dean, the president, and the chaplain involved in this.

because people give me pitiful looks when they see me.

because when you’re not president of prism, you don’t notice these things. 

because i’m the only one that keeps count.

because i’ve never been more protective of a piece of paper.

because i give a damn.

because i know if it was any other kind of poster, it’d still be there.

because i am homosexual. 

because i will not be silent.

because i cannot comprehend why that should bother anyone.

because people still use language that is completely inappropriate.

because my sexual orientation should not bother you.

because you are a fucking asshole.

#5: monday

i'll wipe you from my eyes,
my pain a lame disguise
for "what's coming next?"
and "what happens now?"

there goes my alarm again,
acting like we want to hear it.
you can't make me climb in
the shower with the clumps of hair
that i won't notice until i get in there.

it's 9:15, so i'm leaving
pulling my shorts on and ending my dreaming
heading to a class where i'll listen to you,
praying and hoping my silent dreams
will come true.

#4: for those who judge

for those who look and judge,
my image will not smudge,
it won't shudder or turn to sludge.
it is not you that i count on,
not your eyes. i thought wrong?
babe, you need to take a hint.
your face would look better
without that hateful tint.
not saying it'd look good, just better.
cause right now, i'd rather date umbridge
than ever look at you,
even if you stand in the way
of my clementines in the fridge.

#3: yum

"i can't imagine a time
when peanut butter and jelly
didn't exist,"
you say,
and i am in love.

#2: ath haiku

Her and me and her
Typing and typing but what
does it come to, when

We sit here and stare
some more, our shoes a pile
on the stripey floor

Menus in one tab,
Musical murder I do,
I'm still here with you.

#1: the ath, 1st floor

because it's national poetry month,
and i'm a sucker.
your teeth and those chips make an awfully nice pair.
but not as nice as that string on your shoulder from my underwear.
i'm not sure if it's the febreze or the cotton
that makes me cling, cling, cling on,
but i know you'll get a giggle out of those last two words.
though i'm out, but not all there yet, the ripping shreds
inside my head still replay as i lie in bed.
it's never easy, quick or simple,
but counting my calories is giving me pimples.
so here i go to write about race,
as i pull on my happy face,
or as happy as my face can be
when i really, really have to pee.