We made them pay for doing what
we all were meant to do:
be ourselves?
What a fucking joke. What would you
ever think of that, trying to pass of some sort of
hope, and joy, and ferociously beautiful love
and some sort of thing that people could do:
by ourselves,
for ourselves.
Who knew
that psychoemotional ecology was a real thing, that one day all our sins would mean
that we can never be queen, quing or king
until we accept that what we did was so immensely traumatising
that the planet, and the collective human psyche, and the universe
are all still suffering.
I felt such a naked, and horrifically beatific thrill
at watching all the queer boys burning.
Somedays I would leave a hanging
singing.
Somedays I would feel such a dauntless, screaming thrill
at the fact that I was finally winning.
Somedays I would laugh and screech, and yield
to the fact at what I was becoming:
someone so fully and completely incapable
of sinning.