Identifying as queer, I am a big supporter of people being allowed to live as they see fit. The proviso being no harm to others in any form while doing so. I also extend this to animals and the earth knowing this is essential to support our connectedness on this spinning ball we all live on together. I try (and …
My experience whispers in my ear not to trust, to always be careful, people are bastards – and I choose not to listen.
There is no kick in the start. No juice in the blender. The molecular organization is scrambling and I’m laying face down in the dust.
There was no sympathy from the man of police with me at this discovery. A lover’s tiff he said, I should have given you more money, let your thieving offspring live with us no matter how abusive.
You loved me at my worst, weakest, and most vulnerable. The least I could do was the same for you, except you didn’t get out alive.
I cleaned your face, and watched the rats on the floor, just waiting for someone to arrive KNOWING that the chapter with your beautiful smiling SOUL was closed.
Fark! When did this happen? HOW did this happen. I knew that I was feeling pretty tight but when did I become stress?
That the one needing a hand was the only one that could be put out. As if starvation wasn’t enough of a nuisance, perhaps she thought it was a lifestyle choice like the waifs we are bombarded with in mainstream media.