BE PROUD OF YOURSELF

Hey.

I’m sorry for going away.

I devoted a month just to being gay,

getting it out—thanks, Grindr—every day.

Now, I’m back and finally proud of myself today.


You should be proud of yourself, too! You are you! You are the only you in a species which has been around for over 100,000 years on a little planet which revolves around a little star in a galaxy of 200 billion stars in a continuously expanding universe of trillions of galaxies. [Source: I just took this: courses.harvard.edu/detail/fall2017/astron300.]

And yet, in that entire universe, there is only one YOU. So be proud of whomever you are! Don’t let others trick you into thinking you are weird or crazy or creepy or gross or unnatural because of natural things you cannot control (nor should you), LGBTQ+ or not! Don’t let ANYBODY tease you, trap you, bully you, destroy your mental health, or put you on the literal brink of suicide. I know those things well; I’m here for you—regardless of your struggle or your identity. I’m here for humanity.


BE PROUD OF YOURSELF, DARLING—EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU WHO LAYS EYES ON THESE WORDS. YOU DESERVE IT.

Why I Refused to be LGBTQ+ in Texas

Because I was a “fag” for being a “feminist Bernie cocksucker.”

Because I was a “flaming pussy” for wearing yellow shoes.

Because I was only valedictorian due to having “zero friends.”

Because I was told I get “no pussy” solely for posting art on Insta.

Because I was a “gay nigger-lover” for loving Frank Ocean & Moonlight.

Because, while these were the ones I wrote down, I heard worse.

Because, due to this relentless bullying, I was desperate to be straight.


Sorry for the vulgarity; I wanted you to see what it was actually like.

What it was like dealing with the worst of racists in suburban Texas.

I wanted you to know why my mind REFUSED to be remotely gay.

I hope it was eye-opening—that I persevered the hell, the existential crises, the bipolar disorder mania, & anxiety. I hope it was inspiring.

Thank you for reading. Please like, follow, share, etc. if you can. ❤

Why “The Gay Poet”?

First of all, my poetry is so gay

that it will teleport you to a day

in my dreams of queertopian play

where we stare into each other’s eyes

under the big, beautiful, baby blue skies

while literally rubbing each other’s thighs.

 

But I’m not a gay poet; I don’t wear your labels.

they are just petty words that divide us,

as well as self-fulfilling prophesies.

I am neither a gay person

nor a poet person.

I am just… a

person.

 

So,

I suppose

we are in a bit

of a moral quandary,

maybe some paradoxical irony,

and that’s why I chose this name for thee.

I Dream

I dream of a world wherein

gays aren’t suppressed, oppressed, or hence depressed.

I dream of a world wherein

sexuality isn’t relevant to politics, religion, or social issues.

I dream of a world wherein

“identity politics” and “LGBTQ rights” are obsolete terms.

I dream of a world wherein

we aren’t divided by arbitrary, socially constructed labels.

The First 25 Minutes

You may

call me your bae,

though you must know right away

that i was seconds from death just yesterday.

But before i swallowed the pills, i realized that i am gay.

Then i made this site 25 minutes later to play

with the many things i have to say.

Don’t lead yourself astray.

Follow me today.

 

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