The end. Christmas lights blinking like your local disco begging you to dance in the New Year. The time of year where my pockets are empty and nostalgia reigns within me. A refusal to change, though everything has changed.
You could have it all. Where did the You go? I spread my legs but You go missing. I want to say “I love you” and have You mean it when You say it back. But I don’t say it, because I am afraid You won’t return the gesture.
I wish I could be. A pigeon with broken wings, clipped from dirt. Flashback to my childhood every time they play “Human Nature”— photos from the VW bus en route to Disneyland. Death scares me most this time of year. How do you let go at the most important time of year?
All is forgiven if I can get some sleep. Have to pay a bill, have to find a job I’m happy with. Have to keep writing before I lose the inspiration. Have to keep being a Fag because my sexuality depends on it. Narrow-minded, hard as rock.
This heartbeat is not mine but I want to own it. Up the street, I race to catch up with you. Tell them that it’s human nature. Tell them if they understood, they wouldn’t have to understand.
Somewhere, the 1980s are calling me home. The beginning.