Never Say

“Faggot” makes me cringe the same as “human” does.

I shiver in a barely-lighted barroom and I

keep to myself.

I never say a word

I just suck at rail whiskey and

feel my guts burn

The lustful queens are busy

shirtless, dripping, bones jutting from hips, grinding,

with cocks as stiff as scorpions.

And they dance like God naked on rooftops

drunk on cheap moonlight,

His rectum stretched as big as His universe.

They enjoy themselves because

they are unafraid,

and I continue to quake in the corner

and I never say a word.

Until a girl comes up and buys me a drink.

I suck it down like a semen soaked cigarette, and

she says to me: “You’re cute”.

She’s got an ass like a mountain and I go for that,

so I take her home and shove it in to the hilt.

And it feels good and slick and warm like they all do.

But the act is empty like a hornets’ nest in wintertime

and I never say a word.