BleedingSilverBird

Every time I see the mayfly flicker Of a canonical queer couple In this world that cares precious little For the well-being of lovers in the face of injustice I think: They are almost certainly doomed Yet I cling to that “almost” To the point of self-harm As always, begging As always, on my knees Tearfully kissing the cruel writer’s hand That holds the bloodstained gavel Pleading my case to ears that will not listen Though able, to right the tipped scales That have always sent loves like mine to die Past mind-splintering denial I beg that they might live That just this once there will be mercy At this point I would happily take any deal - They live, exiled from their friends, barred from any safe harbour - They live, maimed beyond recognition - They live, crushed by survivor’s guilt - They live, but are lost to me They live, they live, they live I’ll take any caveat, Welcome any compromise As long as they survive the end of their story Let us escape the looming terror Barter

If we lived in the woods I wouldn’t be scared to walk alone at night The outdoors would be our living room And you would start over with your carpentry The summer moon would see us bathing naked In a lake that we’d rename And in the morning, when we’d dried I’d take you in the sunshine and squeeze your fingers inside We’d have to take the car to the store And there wouldn’t be a library Mail would come twice a week And our tv would only have three stations And you would be restless And I’d sleep too much But you could start a fire in our stove Then I’d show you the steps of a polska For once you’d sleep in the passenger seat And I wouldn’t hesitate to take you picnicking Please, my love, say it wouldn’t be too bad If we lived in the woods

At some point you just get sick of it. Sick of never seeing anybody over 35 on screen, especially if they are a woman, sick of the same 3 unrelatably smooth-skinned actors in perfect lighting and covered in makeup, starring in every single genre like they’re just randomly selected from a collection of barbie dolls. At some point you attend a class called “Beginner’s queer Argentinian tango” just to see a butch who’s more than a decade older than you. To see her striding across the room, not so much leading as communicating telepathically with a willowy femme who’s older than your mom. You don’t even remember the rest of the participants because there is the future you couldn’t imagine. Sure, you’ve never stuck to either a butch or femme aesthetic in your life, nor would you want to, but until you saw her kind eyes and mostly shaved head, her thinning gray hair and the crow’s feet around her smile, until you saw her in real life you could never truly let go of the ticking clock. The one

I've wished myself out of this world And last year I got it Not as a tragic Ophelia Bloated by water and time But as a maiden in a castle Waiting for the dragon plague to be slain The world halted around me As the bodies dropped A downpour of the East Which only reached me in diminished numbers Thirteen thousand nine hundred seventy six The minor curse a blessing As over a million died in India I remembered that solitude is peaceful A selfish drop of gratitude In our unfairly shared poison cup I realized that the self I was running from Was the frightful witch Who would heal me Even as I thanklessly shrank from her touch And refused to meet her eyes I found she had left the soothing herb The antidote fruit In my unthinking hand And I began To recover my mind, my body, myself

Act like a wave Flow around, without and within And never fight directly Those who wish to harness your power Carry them if they are clever and bold Drown them if you will But polish their rocks for them As the labour of your kin Moves the world they take for granted Your power will be used against you The biggest waves crash back into the sea Stay a river wave, a lake wave The ripple of a puddle Never the roaring storm of Cthulhu You are a wave, so act like one Then I looked down and found I could never be a particle Under the weight of their cast-iron gazes And the maelstrom inside Began to stir

The dread in the core of my spine Coils like a rattle snake Ready to strike, whenever I approach sleep Or my own front door Why can I never teach it That the stage of the world Exists only in my head That there is no enemy And there's nowhere I can go That is outside myself No matter how I twist and wiggle I'll never escape the womb of the world mother For as long as I am aware No harm will come that can't be borne Nothing I do can cast me out Of the love that springs eternal She surrounds me and creates me I am Athena, not yet sprung forth Nested in that Russian doll Gaia Who made me for this world To struggle and achieve Never conquer, never be conquered I play safely in her grim fairytale Free to think and fear

One day the fight will come for us It'll come for you and your sweetheart trust It'll come for me and my panicked false bravado And when it comes, my fists may not be enough Your fitness, our caution, our love might not save us Until that day when the fight comes for us I will walk with my head held high, fists clenched tight Rabbit heart shaking each time you dare to love me in public