A salty brand of loneliness;

the whirr of an aeroplane

piercing through the night,

giving sound to the sky.

Our demises, our deaths

somewhere further down the line.

Salt getting caught,

in the teeth

on the tongue.


Being Gay

img_1995-1I’ve never really hated myself for being gay

The times when I have hated myself

were for my narcissism, my self-absorbtion

(hello WordPress),

my self-destructiveness,

my angry outbursts at people who I love.


Is that a sign of societal progress?

That I can have a complex, three-dimensional, and in some key ways

flawed personality,

and hate on parts of that

rather than fixate on the fact I’m gay?


Lol…. the ‘fact I’m gay’. That’s a phrase that could probably be

unpacked another time.