I like statistics and I’m relying on data, my logic is
probably the lunchroom is full of a couple dozen gay kids thinking
damn, I hate how everybody here is straight
probably pinning their lips shut when the topic turns to love
probably keeping their mouths closed like the closet doors
they’ve been staring at the back of.
at least I hope there’s a couple dozen kids like that
cause otherwise it’s just me and my fat yapping trap
I’ve been trying to limit
to a couple jokes a month maybe, cause after all
poking fun is the only time we’re allowed to talk about this stuff
before everyone pulls out the big guns
and I stop being just some kid in the lunchroom
and become that poor lost girl who struggles with same sex attraction.
but if I’m a sinner I’d rather be a prodigal son than a repentant daughter
rather be an honest martyr than a safe liar
living life half fulfilled, one foot in the grave.
but I’m putting on a brave face.
deep down it’s clear I haven’t got the guts to open up,
even when the stakes are lower than low, even when i know
these people are “totally cool with queers.”
well, maybe I’m not.
maybe I’m the homophobe, have I ever thought of that?
maybe these self loathing attacks are the secret ramblings
of a fundamentalist with a shotgun hidden inside.
maybe all the tears I’ve cried are hangman’s nooses
or maybe I’m just thinking up excuses.
it’s just the older I get the more I realize that society hates people like me
and the way I worship society
it’s pretty easy to think God hates me too.
then again, don’t we all
pray at altars made of normalcy?
aren’t the holiest works of scripture the confessions scribbled
on bathroom tiles?
love letters and lamentations scrawled
on the suicide hotline posted on the stall,
well here’s my confession to add the the wall
as i hide in my dingy cubicle,
waiting for everyone to leave so I can finally catch my breath:
I am the kid in the lunchroompinning my lips shutkeeping my mouth closed,and now I am a kid in a bathroomwhere I don't belong.