Admission
Inside my head is a
phalanx of men,
Who are silent whenever
I pick up my pen.
But open my mouth to
speak what I think,
They take up their arms
and kick up a stink.
Ever since my youth
when I first got the urges
To see naked men in my
nocturnal purges
The repression police
that in my mind dwell
Make sure that they vet
whatever I tell.
Editing my thoughts
before they emerge,
Like a journalist’s
boss patrolling for dirge.
They hunt masculine
pronouns and turn them around
So no evidence of
queerdom can ever be found.
Such constant pressure
to check what I say,
Thank god for the
watchmen who work night and day.
Seeking no credit or
coinage as proceeds,
Laying foundations for
future neuroses.
In truth it’s
exhausting keeping up to the job.
Double-thinking each
thought before out of the gob.
Much easier to offer
the guards annual leave
Shut up and listen;
give their work a reprieve.
Hush the critical
voices of internal tutors
Let screensavers play
on my neural computers.
Be agreeable,
compliant, sit on the fence,
Don’t open that trap:
it won’t make no sense.
The security checks I
run on my mind
Have become so familiar
I want to rewind
To the first time the
sentinels took up their places,
Back when I fell for boys’
beautiful faces.
I’d destroy their need
to be so controlling,
No more brain waves
would they be patrolling.
Dressing them down to
explain what is clear:
Being gay right out
loud is nothing to fear.
It’s such a small part
of my life now it’s true,
Yet it’s holding me
back from opening up too.
A bulletproof shield I
wish I could shatter,
Refocus control on the
things that most matter.
That censoring voice is
not my protector,
It smothers my passions
in every vector.
Now defences are
breached and I finally see,
What’s holding me back
isn’t them
it’s me
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