in the humble gaze of a queer adolescence
you find that everything’s placed to be questioned
through the haze of your foggy eyes.
in one 15 year old’s survey
of the chemical cures and the therapy,
the clouds overhead don’t quite clear away,
but that’s what theyl say.

so the state comes to investigate
the family at the wrong estate,
the dad who chose not to temper his child’s minds with drugs,
while abusive dads and alcoholics
cheer on their rapist football sons
i am feeling empty, all used up and overdue.
and all my self important pain,
it drips and it runs and it fades away,
all shadowed by the expanses of the meaningless.

in the humble gaze of a queer adolescence
i fixate on all our own planned obsolescence
and it derails my train of thought,
and all in all i guess it’s ok.
i mean, words never carried much truth anyway,
and i couldn’t claim to know what to say, so i let it lay.

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