Asking too much for too long


so you need to know

if i do women

like

i do men

and if so,

why?

your newspapers inform me of

how blasphemous that is,

how

entirely-whimsical

wanting-to-fucking-get-wet-in-the-rain-when-you-have-pneumonia,

how irresponsible of me to

want to pleasure

pinkfleshytongueprotrudingfrompurplewetlips

so

i sit at my cofee table chestnut-brown,

as i realize

how much you need me to

cure you of your

sickness

toolong now you have feared

my cunt-loving, pussy-eating, sister-fucking lesbian love

surely only a crazylunatic would want to

become the lantern that

hoists-its-noisy-neck-above-all-nosy-darkness

only to be stoned at

still, every sundown hour

brings you news

of my lechery,

photographs of my inexplicable libido for

all things round-and-white-and-pinkbrown-dotted-within,

no matter sagging, no matter witheringcold like

tawnyochredleavesoffall

it enrages you to no limits

my insanity,

my courageuntiedfromyourshoelaces,

my rebellion against religious convictions of

your invention

and

i

can't

make

an

apology,

now,

can

i

?

for

everyday under piles

of your-sociologist-prescribed-definitions for my condition

now,

i have buried

my shovel seeking

to discover a link between

what your world takes me to be and

who

i

have

grown up

to embody

my living aside,

every month i bleed

by the turn of yourorangeclockwork,

i reassert

myself

as

a

biological

being as much

as

a creature-one-of-her-kind

you could call me a woman,

biology permits you to,

you cannot

condemn me

to womanhood

and it's limitations,

its nagging-complaints-about-cramps-and-cosmetics by

the buttends of every lunar cycle

i, birthed a woman,

have long grown wings

and flapped them about your face,

under your nose i have

stolen kisses that i flaunted in the pictures they

set before your mooning eyes

and hid my claws within fists-clenched-in-solidarity

i am water

fluid and free and everything-you-learnt-about-me-when-in-kindergarten,

i take all shapes depending on the container

youmaypourgasoline on my abdomen and burn out the parts

you don't like

but know in your heart-obssessive-to-straighten-crooked-lines-out

your limitations

and how you sketch your life measured by scales in straight lines

and fear becoming trainwreckdebris

if you steered out of

paralleltracksyousetforliving

for though

i know

all this looks like a mere playthinginyourcrookedhands,

is but a

grumblingdetonaterwaitingtoexplode

to change the geography of your world

drunkonmodernmyths

am

notalone notalone notalone

there's too many of us for you to turn

our smoke into

thinair that you'll be too scared to breathe in,

fearing ourinfectioninyourlankybones

justforyoursake,

don't write us off yet

we have not yet finished with you

and

when we will

you, i don't know which one among the two privileged sexes you identify yourself with but,

you,

will be begging for

sweet-mother-of-love mercy.

#poetry

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