Finch’s Stuff

-“Chat GPT and T stands for toes”

-“Blossom your anus”

-“Did I give you permission to squeeze my bean?”

-“We knitted a Christmas jumper of heterosexual lies”

-“I’m holding my penis, let’s not chat”

-(Phil): “What even is kale?” (Dan): “Witchcraft”

-“If it doesn’t have a sticky floor, you’re not gonna have a good time”

-“Retract the piss”

-“Don’t eat the priest”

-“Reality is collapsing via your butt”

-“Oh please Phil, give us your penis review”

Next time a straight person says ‘you can’t be saying your bi/pan if you’ve only dated (insert gender here)!”

The Vast: a jar of rain water I put on the top of my bookshelf and forgot about until two weeks ago

The Spiral: copious amount of (unorganized) Hawaiian shirts

The Eye: the many books I buy and do not read

The Dark: the lofted space under my bed that I can not see or find anything under

The Hunt: three different flannels in various conditions and states of cleanliness

The Desolation: far too many candles

The Corruption: half used tissue box and unused thing of cold medicine from being sick three weeks ago

The Lonely: a single stick from a tree in my front yard

The Stranger: a (horribly made) coyote mask

The Web: cobwebs in my window that I cannot reach to clean

The Slaughter: old ass pocket knife

How can that many queer men die from one disease in a period of time, only for the government to not acknowledge it?

Even if their own love is arguing and pushing instead of laughing and holding—

They look upon me with disdain, and view our joy with disgust.

They prefer shame over liberation; they seek conformity instead of truth—

Don’t they call lying a sin?

Yet to them love is countless tears and sleepless nights—

Isn’t Removing a reagent in an experiment dangerous and potentially fatal—

Doesn’t changing a recipe cause reactions of the body?

So tell me why should I rid my self of such a crucial ingredient in my body?

What good will praying it away do?

Does ignoring the truth make it any less real?

Is it still trying to save yourself from eternal damnation if it only hurts you?

And is loving yourself such a crime as they said?

a gift of all kinds

Of which every race

every faith

every type of love

Should be blessed by freedom

should be allowed to soar

Not to have their wings clipped

not to have their nests disturbed

By the cutting down of sanctuary

by the witholding of the seed of life

by the destruction of their hatchlings

All should be allowed to take flight

not just those with glittering feathers

or those with full bellies

But those in captivity

those with hungry beaks

And those with feathers of black

and grey and brown

May they break free

of birds of prey