August Stephens

SOUL-SUCKER

I would be lying if I didn’t say I never believed in eternal damnation,
if I was never told I was dirty, filthy after being told “I love you.”
 
We crowd in fear. We tuck our tongues against our molars and hope–
 
I am your wannabe dyke fag who you say is unreal. You call me
perverted, miniscule, a person with an infinitesimal grip on reality.
 
Tell me your wicked fears and I will share with you how when walking
home I tell myself I could have the power to pull every last of your teeth.
 
Less than a day in– I see my ankles flipping up and arms locked in place,
face hits the pavement as the ghost biker just keeps whirring around me.
 
If you must ask why I am nauseous from grief, it is here I tell you you
are rotting from the inside out, but my siblings and I are expected to
 
come together and love you just the same.