The way it swims so fearlessly, you’d never believe
that this is said, or thought, or dreamt so mindlessly;
I believe in tenacity, but I think you might think in
plasticities. I hope you do. It is necessary
to imagine, and to have enough viscosity,
to imbibe what I’m about to say next:
this is how delight was fished, out of the searing, sweltering depths
of the hell we made for ourselves, embedded in
caustic causalities, made all too manifest
by our desires, and so many fucking liars
across 75,010 years of pain, abuse and interference
from strangers so familiar, it would be painful
if I were to rip off all their masks, and show you
just who all these devils really were, underneath the lies, the trickery and the hats.
I, too, can strap on angel wings, and attest
to the spirit of the depths, moving inside of me:
it is you, unfortunately, who has nonetheless penetrated
all I had, all I wanted, all I desired, no less.
All I forgot how to be, when they invited me to be oh so careless
and leave my fear scattered all over the floor; to make a big brown mess
of my children’s children, of the desires that I confess
are probably still riding around inside of me somewhere.
Or maybe they are your desires,
riding me,
without my actual consent.
Maybe they are your burning hellfires,
roasting me
into a force so well-thrusted and spent
that only four well-primed ion cannons, living, white-hot and relentless
can ever tear down the real Shaitan’s caress:
I would hate to reclaim anything in excess.
I would hate to destroy anything that is not actually an abscess.
I would hate to settle for anything less
than this living, breathing, gay non-binary creole angel,
brown, buff as fuck, and absolutely ready to rock any kind of
redress.