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-
