To be me?? One might quiver at the thought of that. Just as the one Greek God sentenced to hold the earth upon his back, it would be just a sentence. A long punishment for something you're not quite sure even happened. For all the forces against the idea of me, and you want to walk a few steps in my shoes? Can't you see the slow, mechanical destructuring of my path. One can never tell which way is up in my world. Yet you still choose to ask of me?? For once, I slip on the shoes of another. And I see. Or don't see. And then the lightbulb illuminates...... Perception is always someone else's reality.
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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