Send me your love
as rousing anthems of alienation
you beautiful freaks of nature
sailing in a glass-bottom boat
on the deep and restless sea
of fluid sexuality and gender
You are who you want to be
or at least who you say you are
It’s not my right to judge
I will take you at face value
once I cut through
the running mascara and caked on blush
to lay my fingers on your real face

Kiss me your strength
with the red lips of rejection
you weird and wild children
running through the glass and metal jungle
aping the apes
with stand-up, slapstick semaphore
You are manifestos writ in flesh
Or, at least in spilling blood
It is not my place to say
I will pull you to my chest
as soon as I determine
which are your tentacles?
Which are your arms?

Sing me your souls
as lilting hymns of sass and sorrow
you dark and damaged vessels
writing your anguish and angst
on perfumed stationary
that you leave as suicide notes
to mystify your parents
You are less than you desire
yet much more than you seem
Who am I to name you?
I will gladly listen to your stories
as soon as I begin to separate
the concrete from the moss