he heard her booming,
�while i watch them ride with my fears away,�
filling the air
rushing from my open windows,
a cry to, for, and from those rendered voiceless.
she offers a reckoning
for those who need it most.
he heard a female voice
taking up space.
my crime? looking like a man
and listening.
�ain�t got time to waste, i got art to make.�
a crime committed by many before me
but often punished more severely.
o�shae was not there
to fight, but to dance, as is the case with many
of us queers. from pulse to club q,
death lingers in our spaces. our
spirit threatens the safety of their cognitive dissonance,
so they murder us.
�they won�t dim my light, all these years i fight.�
fat boy faggot, he said,
as i walked toward my door.
what is your malfunction? i said,
as he rounded the corner.
�only god knows,
only god knows,
only god knows.�
- Photo by feinschliff on Unsplash
- This is my own work and has not been generated in whole or in part by AI
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