Hey, you!
Like you think I'm oblivious.
Hi-i!
As though the penknives you lob at me when I'm not looking don't stick to the gentle hills of my spine like ugly factories planted on once luscious, green land.
Ha ha.
Laughing when you think I don't see.
Their eyes rest to me and flicker back to their friends, sharing knowing looks, like pendulums.
Two-hundred-fifty pounds of flesh bursting with ideals that proclaim him the owner of my body, and declare my autonomy should not be as it be.
Beckons and ominous smiles swirl with quiet belittling; Pointing and attempting to prod with words or grubby fingers like slugs sliding over rotten fruit.
We should kill all trannies.
An armada of boxy torsos; stupid, stupid prejudice; A garden of home problems that become vines, sealing shut the doors of their minds. Brightly colored thorns defending every window.
Metal beasts roaring past and much much much too close. "No"'s spoken with the strength of the unmoving mountain and responses of the breed that cleaves mountains in two without a second thought.
The less rats fear us, the bolder they become. The bolder they are, the cowardice even join in; The more there are, the less chance we-- I --have of making it.
YOU ARE READING
I Can't Feel At Home In This World Anymore
Poetry⛰ From a scrappy and tired nobody, to whom it may concern; Welcome. It's cold in the sunlight, warm in the shade, and the sweetgrass grows bigger than bamboo shoots. "Oh Lord, you know I have no friend like you! And I can't feel at home in this wo...
