#pridemonth

This is how we were born:
dropped from the sky,
into a basket of binary gods.
Our shields were shaped as bandages,we cracked jokes
while getting chewed in bug mouths .
So when we toy with our own lives, the royal neighbourhood passes us
with catalogues of what love is,
disgusted at us because we chose whom to love and how to love.
The light outweighs us and so we call rainbows as our vows,
and make bouquets for our lovers
out of wild flowers,
because we are afraid of gardens.
We know if they find out,
they will pull us into dirt and
cover us with pig skins,
until we turn to black humus.
Because in their frog eyes,
we are low bugs who has to be crushed before turning into dragon flies who can swing in blue sky.
Because,  for them we are wrong songs coming out of egg yolks.
So, they want to mark doors of this unsaintly crowd of ours by blood.
People have always died.
In streets. In homes. In temples.
In we red hands of others.
Death is the cesarean child of night
And test tube baby of days.
It is complicated than three parenting.
Complicated than the anger of God which is not always anger, but love.
So,
when they draw bullet holes in our foreheads,
When they chisel their knives over our bodies,
we don't cry.
Instead we ask the wind to carry 
a message to our lovers,
that reads_
"I have so much love in me
To quench your thirst.
But me, this well is poisonous."
Our blue sweat change this
sentence to sacrament
and we hold our ear to wounds, 
waiting for an answer.


#pridemonth

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