A Moment Of Quiet Poetic Reflection:
What else have I to do,
But write?
Queer Neurodivergent;
Words like vomit,
Ejectile Projectiles in variations,
Poignant in fewer.
Must speak truth to power, at least.
For when they round me up into camps,
I’ll go down swinging,
Bullets between my eyes,
Or ribs.
A Moment Of Quiet Poetic Reflection:
