Cochineal

we've tried 

for so long

to scrub the queer from us

like trying to scrub dye from a cloth

only to rub it in 

deeper

so much 

that our hands bleed

that our nails are impregnated

dye seeping into our cuticles

running into the creases of our knuckles

and the folds of our hands

so much 

that even the fake fortune teller

can see that queer runs deep 

into our future

through our veins

so whether we paint it on

or wash it off

we are queer

no cure to absolve us

no gods to forgive us

no laws to ban us

we've run into the veins of society

reminding it

that we are like Cochineal

crush us

and we'll just make more colour

we're a part of the cloth now

we are the clothes you wear

the curtains you drape

the bed sheets you fuck on

the upholstery of your car

we're not adjacent

we're intrinsic

and no bigot can undo that

spill our blood

and you will only be reminded of your own

-o0o-