by IAN MARTIN
don’t trust anyone whose drug trip revelation is homonormative. being gay is a fickle business. i want to be something without god’s okay. but to be valid one must be recognizable. the drugs weren’t helping and the sex was alarming. don’t trust anyone with a tool box. love is love but god loves me wrong and so does everybody else. i want to be one with the world and everything in it but that’s just not realistic. in what godforsaken universe would anything we build work for us. nonfiction is a poison, a drug that triggers dormant disorder. i want to kiss somebody, a hobby for defined entities. could i lose myself in your understanding for an evening? or is being lost only fun if you knew where you were at the start? don’t trust anyone who isn’t lost, but good luck getting out of the woods. we haven’t yet shaken god but we try hard every day.
The Wild Literary Magazine 