idk how to write about love without wanting to reclaim the word “gay” as a slur and start using it to criticize myself
idk if should be prosecuted for our death the human psyche can’t help but see multiple truths as a threat so in writing our story, you played around with psychiatry checked off boxes in a manual to confirm the one you needed to see but you can’t diagnose what i’m holding inside of me now here i am, self-psychoanalysing been up for two days Googling Lacanian theory and i still don’t fully understand what he means but i want him to reassure me that my desire is perfectly normal that i’m not an evil person for submitting to the force of its pull
idk how to open a jar of sauce or hang things on the wall how to flush after i pee or get out of bed to do groceries
idk what day of the week it is if quitting my job was smart anything about your newfound friends or about myself
idk what to wear what to say what we’ll do if she’s gay where to brunch in mimico (i rarely leave the house these days) what my face looks like when she talks to me how to listen how to respond how i lost these skills when you were around
idk why my poems are so literal probably because i’m new and bad at this or maybe its because they shouldn’t be classified as poems at all or maybe its because i was born without a dad so something is fucked up with my Symbolic Order if you are reading this you’re probably going to text me in a minute to say stop self-diagnosing okay you’re right thank you so maybe in this case it’s because
i want to poke you one last time
like we’re on facebook in 2008
except now with the 2nd person singular
composed in a Google doc
if you want i can share the link with you
i must admit that i secretly love playing with you(s)
because i want to make you(s) feel special or drive you(s) crazy wondering who i’m referring to
writing about you(s) is like being a hyperactive kid during indoor recess and some poetic devices are like after-school detentions for a heart that just wants to drool and bleed all over the real you(s), to sing in joyful forte and apply deodorant onto my dripping pits while walking down a suburban street with you(s) on a weekday afternoon
i am my most and least courageous when given a blank page words cannot show you how much i truly contain
i’m so gay idk what else to say