I look into their eyes then find
something queer. The queerness I’ve never had, the queerness I’ve never felt. I
don’t understand about it. But as I rush to reach what they preach as
something worth having, it is crystal clear that it doesn’t suit me at all. It
is like a manifestation of privilege. Something brings them into a safe place.
They applause it, they are devoted to it. But to me, it means a prick
smile that skews me inside.
Friday night I was in a fight,
the same old vexing argument that used to stab my back. Now I’m wounded, having
a pain that sent me sprawling. But hey – the
antidote – as the memories come rushing back and it makes all beyond
harder, I’m finally convinced that I’m uninvited into somewhere they believe as
the most intact tranquility. The tranquility that ironically whispers through
my ears about how frail itself.
It is odd, the antidote – it is completely odd. But as the same as God reminds
me of the unseen eternal life apparently I have inside, it gives me strength. The
strength to be a curious one, to torn the whole secret behind what I’ve lived
up.
And one day – the antidote – one day I will share you
it, until there is nothing left to stay hidden.
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