love is for queers

it’s been a while

since i thought some thoughts at you

but you know no matter what is happening

i still want to stick my hands down your pants

and tell you how lovely you are

and tell you my secrets

and store yours in my heart.

if you could do me a favour

just a tiny little favour

and just let me kiss your soft, pale lips,

and touch your freckles,

and caress your hips,

and trace your scars,

just let me worship your body tonight

I would really really appreciate it.

i think my heart is broken

and it may never be fixed.

when i die,

i want to be a mountain.

because mountains are beautiful, a symbol of strength, of the timelessness of the Earth,

of geology, of plate tectonics, of folds and faults and metamorphic rocks

i loved rocks when i was a kid.

rocks have always been here, and they’ll be here long after the deer and the dinosaurs and the humans and the fishes all leave

i know i cannot be a mountain.

i am much too small and insignificant.

but i would at least like to be on one, or be put on one, high high up where the air is thin and cold and dry.

i want to be a tiny mummified corpse on a monstrous igneous intrusion

frozen and still and silent

FUCK caves

when i die

i know where i’m going.

ps

when it’s dark and lonely and you can’t find the light switch

call me up and i’ll read you a bedtime story

it can have a happy ending

even if we don’t.

i refuse to believe that the only person i can trust

is myself. 

i cannot be

the only one

who would throw myself on a sword for a loved one.

i just need to spend my love on better people.

or maybe love is my superpower?

either way,

i’m fucking spent.