the word started a fight
Fag
and i don't know which made me sadder
the, caller thinking the word was an insult
or the, insulted thinking the word was worth hitting fist into face
they put, male skin and hands to, male skin and
bodies rolling and grappling on the school's corridor floor
upping heartbeats and penetrating punches
together as artists they draw
they draw blood
on canvas of 12inch-by-12inch neutral tiles
all from violence
nothing from love
because male love is gross
despicable
ostracizable
yet using your birth-given hands hurting another human being is
worth bragging about in the cafeteria
adds points to status-counts
blame schools, blame kids, blame parents
politicians, and media
squeezing them into our babysitter-buildings by the hundreds
providing each a, half-locker of semi-privacy
forcing them to, drink from a shared fountain while guests and suits get water-coolers
write kids off as entitled because, it's easy
blame tv and gaming
bullying and shaming
finger-point all you want, they'll point their tallest finger back at you
amidst broken mailboxes and shattered glass and stolen pumpkins
pumpkins smashed on streets they feel
don't belong to them
pumpkins smashed on streets they feel
own them
you will not find a stanza herein with an answer-
just questions and anger
give me one stick for each time an adult says
names will never hurt you
i will build one enormous faggot
names hurt in a way that's harder to fix and in a way that
lasts forever
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