the second history

well aren’t i ridiculous
to act the way i do
against you

punching out in directions
breaking the broken
shifting in and through
permeation
hard rip into all of it

to do it my own way
against
pushing to make
dominance in reverse

slurping sounds
as it releases
reel to end
be kind rewind

wind it all up
catalogue it
placed in an archive

forget

revisit to remember
why it was
hidden

tape 2
a fresh start
without your bullshit
a new time

A Topless Man

White t-shirt casually flung lightly,
draped over your right shoulder.
Left elbow points towards the sky
as your left hand massages the back of your neck.
I’m a few steps behind, following you,
unintentionally at first but that soon changes.
Catching your sweat on the stifling breeze,
the harsh manly smell of your armpits.
Watching as beads of sweat roll down your back,
hitting your waistband,
some down the top of your crack.
Your body twists checking for traffic,
a flash of your hairy chest and your side profile,
skin rough and shimmering in this heat.
A detour for me, this isn’t the way home,
just to watch the muscles in your shoulders move,
to catch you on the breeze again.

Being Other

Feeling overwhelmingly other,
being one of the others.
where all the other others?
Lost in every metropolis,
drowning in the majority,
the majority of the minority
that the majority
thinks us and wants us to be.
A spectrum obscured,
disguised by the loudest of us,
falling between cracks
in representation.
Lost without reference points,
falling out of pigeon holes,
too much for some,
too little for others.

The Rolling Heart

My heart has hit the floor and it’s rolling,
violent waves inside moving forward and back,
my little dread filled ocean of red.

It is sinking within itself over and over,
reaching the bottom to float to the top,
to sink again while it escapes me.

If only it would break but for now it just cracks,
hair line fractures on its cold dead walls,
mapping its way over its veins.

Wishing it would just come home and flutter,
to quiver with excitement once more,
tickled from below by butterflies.