I sit in the living room and a commercial comes on about a family whose parents are same sex or whose kid confesses to being gay and the only thing I want to do is cry and cry and cry but I can’t.
I can never show anything other than passive indifference to those ‘freaks’ and ‘unnatural’ people who are ‘taking over good television and commercial and the streets.’ Then I feel bad for not believing in what my parents do because they’re the most [ honest to God ] wonderful people.
It makes me feel like the betrayer. It makes me feel like going to GSA meetings is sometimes wrong because I’m lying to them, them so honest, so loving of me.
I can never tell them, though, that I like girls more then I like guys. That the curves of her body, the softness of her skin, her breasts, makes me happier then the sharper angles of a male.
I don’t think I can ever tell them about the one, who, at the moment, I can feel myself falling for; with every text, call, smile, look. I can never tell them that this woman, who came to me in my deepest of dark moments has tunneled my sight into a light that seems to soft an dazzling that, if it were up to me, I’d never want to leave - not when it’s all so new.
The best part? She’s visiting me next month. She's visiting me. She likes me enough to travel and pay the distance just to spend time in my company, and my family’s. I’d never met anyone who actually cared that much. She says it’s on a whim and I love her for it.
She…She’s adventure, She’s light. She’s brilliance.
And I feel so, so, so lucky to even know her an it makes the lies an all the tears worth it.
I just hope I can gain the courage one day [ if we stay together, if she stays with me when I ask her to keep this secret for a little longer] to hold her hand, keep my neck straight, look my parents in the eye and say,
"This is my One an I love her."
Then some Yellow.
Splash of Red in high left.
Brown at the bottom.
Purple the size of a dime.
Orange at the corner. A centimeter, at least.
White everywhere, underneath.
Silver? or Lead?
A huge blotch of dark Green.
P A I N
B L O O D
Shiro snarled, lungs heaving in pain. (Weakweakweak,damnit!) One hand was pressed hard onto his side, blood seeping down the open wound, while the other hand in a death grip on the hilt of Zanpakuto. His body swayed back and forth as his vision started to tunnel around the edges. He’d failed again. He’d been conquered. (TheKingStillReignsOnHisThroneForMoreDaysToCome.)
R A G E
D E S T R U C T I O N
He smiled (somethingcrazed, somethingferal ) and showed the blood that filled his mouth, staining the slash of pearl teeth. Rage showed overall as his black and yellow eyes glinted in the light.
He cackled in the room (alonealonealone,again). The sound bounced off the skyscrapers of his ‘prison’, echoingechoingechoing. The feelings (Instinct! ) apparent to anyone that was watching.
Zangetsu turnes his back, sadness/pain/sympathy shown inside normally apathetic eyes.
C H A I N S
C O L L A R E D
He screamedscreamedSCREAMED as he thrashed. The chains that surrounding him (neck/arms/wrists/chest/knees/feet) grew tighter the more he struggled against them. Captivity. Like an animal. Like something (hated/despised) wrong.
He Hatedhatehated those humans! Tainters/liars/ignorants! Turning his King away from the Horse, never trusting, never trying.
Kill. Kill. Kill. (Like a game. )
“They say freak,
When you’re singled out,
The red, well it filters through.
So lay down, the threat is real,
When his sight goes red again.
Seeing red again,
Seeing red again.”
And as she falls, translucent to the dark around her, her mind is shut.
She passes through our storms unnoticed, untouched.
A ghost of yonder she becomes and keeps.
Fractured; she knows no touch.
Unbound; her string has cut.
Unloved; she knows no one.
She weeps in the shadows of our lives.
We go on.