What I Desire

It is yes and please and may I and even no

It’s stop and go, it’s no and ok but I might cry

It’s kissing pea-soup breath cause I’m not sure if it’s ok to ask him to brush his teeth. It’s waking up in the dead of night and knowing the difference between me and the night by the ache in my sternum, the one clearly indicating something didn’t work. It’s getting out of bed alone, while he snores on his side, cause I don’t know if it’s ok to ask for comfort and I don’t believe anything he could give would feel like that anyway.

It’s will you fuck me, and will it hurt, and can I hurt you, and can we hurt together,
Here in the dark, holding hands and nothing more.

What I desire are big, messy, intense conversations on our first real date cause I thought making out in someone else’s bathroom leap-frogged all that small talk shit. It’s here are my demons and will-you-make-love-to-me eyes while talking about boundaries, and being bad at them. It’s you inviting a friend into the date cause this shit just got too intense and there’s no way your going to fuck Mr. Touble-Knowing-My-Own-Boundaries now. It’s drinking wine on the peer cause it’s knowing how to make the best of it cause it’s knowing there’s more than one way to love a cat out of it’s skin and into my heart.

It’s Pride at the White Horse, oldest gay bar in the Bay Are, 6 people on the dance floor and only one person I really want to fuck, two if I count myself. It’s the same the feeling as the first time I ever danced with a boy. It’s loving that feeling and nurturing that feeling and defending that feeling against the history of how that first time ended. The bloody reality of cliché.

It’s personal dates before I knew there was such a thing. Walking along 16th from Mission to Castro past all the hipster bars holding my own goddamn hand cause I just had to go dancing tonight and this is the era of no-more-friends. It’s know how to dance alone in the black like of the Bar, in the crush of a crowd, dancing with my eyes close for 5 seconds every 5 minute and wishing I felt comfortable enough to never open them again.

What I desire is finally learning to dance with my eyes closed cause it’s finally learning to trust that enough people love me cause it’s finally learning there is a power in being spent, through and through and knowing I already gave all I have to give. Tonight I’ll just be and those who want can be with me.

What I desire is standing in circle with young people and being people. It’s telling them stories of gender fucking cause I know violence isn’t the only way to end a queer love story and mine is a love story. It’s them saying gay people are problems in our community and having the courage to say “no we aren’t but lets keep talking”. It’s offer queer 101 to homophobes too young to have made up their own minds and it’s them asking “can I be queer when I grow up” and having the privilege to say “yes”

What I desire is to say yes

A Poem

Here is a poem that came to me yesterday on the way to a date (which by the way was really nice.) Feel free to let me know what you think, what parts work for you and what parts don't. I'm especially curious about whether the title works?

Smoke

Sometimes you need little poison
Sometimes walking alone at night is lonely
And the ache inside feels like death awaiting
And sometimes you aren’t ready to give up on life
But sometimes life alone isn’t working
So Sometimes you just need a little poison

Cause sometimes you need to hurt yourself
Sometimes you need the pain out in the open
And cutting yourself isn’t what good-boys do
Isn’t what mamma’s-boys do
Isn’t what golden-boys do

Cause sometimes it makes marks they can see in dance class
And that’s not what pretty boys do in dance class
Cause than they look at you funny in dance class
Their eyes look confused in dance class
And their minds whirl with wonder in dance class
And then their eyes pop in dance class
And their minds judge in dance class
And they think “how sad you did that” in dance class
And “how sad you are that in dance class
In my dance class”
And sometimes you just need a little poison

Cause sometimes you need the pain on the outside
Even if just a hairs breathe away
Even if it hurts you
Even if it damages you
Even if it fucks you
And leaves you
Fallen, wet and rotting on a bed,
Brown and dirty quilt with flowers patterned
Never having meant to live much less die

Sometimes all you need is a little poison
Cause pain unseen is a wild child
With long nails
And sharp teeth
With lots of energy and no where to go
But through you

You see, sometimes a little poison’s the answer
Sometimes you need to suck it down
Suck it in
Suck it up
And hope it leaves you wholer than it found you
Cause cancer tomorrow
Ha
That sounds easy
That sounds outside
That sounds finite
Like you wish you were
Right
Now

And sometimes a little poison‘s the path.
Sometimes between death and feeling lies the bearable
And sometimes a little poison is the only way to go
To get
To get there
And sometimes a bearable hope is only found in the black dank smoke of a Luck Stripe
You etch across your lungs
Cause the stripes across your arm are unseemly
They declare your sick
Unhealthy

When really all you need is a little poison
Not to much to ask
Or expect
Certainly not sick
Maybe a little old school
But societies always appreciated an obscuring smoke
Over revealing wounds
Dark and smelly, much preferred
Keeps distinct their role in life
And your death

And sometimes you really just need a little poison
Sometimes uncertain friends aren’t the answer
Sometimes uncertain friends aren’t salvation
And won’t bring you closer to jeasus or muhamed
And sometimes friends don’t want to see
What lies behind the smoke
Cause sometimes they’d rather share a drag
Than risk being a drag
Or being dragged
Or feeling nagged
Cause sometimes we all have our own pain
And sometimes that pain’s an abyss
And sometimes I can’t get over mine
To save you from falling down yours
And sometimes the only hope we have is a little poison

But take hope
However you can
In a drag or a shag or even another fag
Falling down a similar hole
Cause it might not have a bottom
And we might not be able to fall together
But if you bang your story on your wall as you pass
I’ll bang on mine
And we can know we do not fall without notice
And we can rest assured that although the dark may swallow us
It need not consume us

And sometimes a little poison can be the largest salvation
And sometimes all you really need and all there really is and all there will ever be is a little poison
To share among friends

So suck it on up and pass it on down
And I’ll make a toast to the smoke
And the little poison we all sometimes need