Short Poem

I laugh and I smile, 
But all the while, 
I’m a creature most vile
There is no denial
My love is on trial

U In?

I only dare write this anonymously. In college i had a strange infatuation with prank wars. i would spend hours day dreaming about the perfect toilet papering or filling someones house with rabid goats.

somehow i got the idea.... and i really don't know what possessed me. Somehow i got the idea that the ultimate prank would involve urine.

at this point i should mention somehow i didn't realize the purpose of prank wars was to get a girl to pay attention to you. seeing how i had not attraction to them, but didn't' know it. i thought the purpose of a prank war was to inflict distress.

anyway. I had a dream. a dream of filling the tub in some poor girls' apartment with urine. Wouldn't that just be the best prank ever? really? i mean they come in and they find 50 gallons of urine dumped into the tub.

yeah......... i don't think there are enough "."s to show how long that pause should be.

so i started saving. gallons and gallons of urine stored in milk jugs. In the bathroom. and while my depravity is certain, someone should also question why my roommates let me. why did they not stop me. if you see someone going down a destructive path, why do you not stop them

so, i became quite fond of my urine collection. It got chunky. i showed it off. I was such a dumb freshman.

one day, after i had amassed 40 gallons of urine, my roommate came to his senses. he begged me not to do this horrible thing. not to destroy these girls tender souls.

i looked at my chunky urine, and realized they did not deserve it. they didn't understand what i'd been through to create the urine.

so I hauled the gallons out to the dumpster.

gentle reader, i apologize for not having a story that ended with the urine being dumped in a tub, or accidentally spilling in my own house. but for 2 months, i had urine stored in my bathroom. i'm not proud of it........... but i am also not ashamed. 

Darkness in the rear view mirror.

Years ago I looked over the railing. Was any of this worth it. Was the pain, loneliness, being so different ever going to lessen. Why was I so different. Why was I so alone. Why can’t I change things for the better.

It was the same railing that today someone else jumped.

And I weep for them.

Their future looked so cloudy. Their pain so great. Why? I do not know their story. Was it the stress of schooling? Was it the pressure of unmet expectations? Was it illness? Did they also feel like an interloper?

When you consider suicide it’s like your life is a merry go round of misery. You can’t find anyway off it. The same repetitive stresses hit you again and again and again. It sucks. And then something happens that makes it too hard to bare. And you think the only exit is death. It becomes a fixation. Each rotation you come back to that thought, “the only way off is to die”

It isn’t.

If i jumped all those years ago i would have missed so much. New friends. New acceptance. New self love. Pains that had stayed with me for decades erased. Phantoms of misery finally vanquished. Had I jumped I never would have known dancing, improv, dungeons and dragons.

Friendships would have never formed.

And lives would have been devastated .

Pain multiplied across the all who new me. From moments of sadness and regret to heart suffocating spasms that want to rip the soul apart. Friends. Families. Always with a dark scar.

Please don’t do it. Don’t jump. You are good. It does get better. I promise. Get help. There are many paths to happiness. Many solutions to puzzles. And more joy that will slay the pain.

Don’t jump. Get help. You don’t have to do it alone. And in future years when you are sitting by a warm fire either with loved ones or just loving your self you will know that it has gotten better. And the way you felt on that lonely bridge will seems foreign.

There are a million paths for you. And joy is in many of them.

It gets better. As long as you stick around.

Isn't it

Isn’t it a little crazy, that a guy like me grew up not knowing about homosexuality.

Isn’t it a little crazy.   God made things this way.  That a boy could actually change from hating the gay. 

Isn’t it a pretty good thing.  The way things can change.   Men liking men becomes less super Strange

Isn’t it amazing.  God finally changed me.  Not the way that I asked for. But the way that I need

Open Heart

Let me cut a slit in my skin and show you a bit of my heart. Let me remove it from the cage i keep it on. See it. Feel it. The beats; like yours? No protection. With my heart lay bare a swift punch would wound so deep I may not recover. When you see the heart beating. Pumping blood. Will you cut it. Will you honor it.

Why do I show it. It needs completion but not by you. I have a heart. Perhaps a different model but it serves the same purpose. My heart has scared me. I know its beats are not like most. But look. It is still a good heart. Is it really so alien? I show it not to the masses. Not yet. Someday they will know. For now I show it to you. What do you think? Is it really all that bad? I wish I did not have to tell anyone. But we all talk about our hearts. It gives us our power. And the cage I kept mine in was to small. And atrophy will kill it.

So you. As one of the first to see my different heart are you surprised? Are we still ok?

Dear Lady

Dear lady, I write concerning the allure of your husband, to put your fears of me to a quick end; your man , while one of my best mates to hang out with, I’ve never had much desire to make out with. Now don’t be offended that I think your beau is ugly, I just hoped to end your apprehension of me. I won’t try to seduce your mate to the path of the gay side, don’t fear when we go out for a day ride. We’re just doing what men have done for years. Being bro’s, hanging out, so don’t listen to your fears. Your man is as straight as they come and has eyes for none other; but while we’re on the subject could I have the number for your brother?

Unbound

there is a freedom found in being different, if you can fully grasp what it means

you don't have to follow the norms around you, the ways you've always seen

when you give yourself permission to dye your hair chartreuse, or wear a pink cape to Walmart, regardless of abuse

you'll have found the freedom granted when nature said you'd be this way

you'll start to be thankful when the normals call you gay