My nose nuzzles into a field of your chest hair. Each hair like a UN peacekeeper, giving me asylum. They wrap their way around my face as I wrap my arms around a 40″ chest, legs around a 32″ waist. These hairs, as I nestle they carry me to refuge. Me, this refugee from all I’m trying not to feel. I call you, and my pain goes away. Comfort. All the peacekeepers and I sing hymnals around your nipple, gallivanting my way to sleep. Amen. I kick on my Soundcloud wall, sing some Hozier remixes out the hole in my heart. I blow away the peacekeepers in the cyclone of exasperated sighs of my breath as I unconsciously cant ‘We were born sick’. And you whisper in my ear, ‘Fuck that.’ I found paradise in the temporary kiss of your intimacy. Amen.

My hatred for the original track comes to light inside me. Even the band knew it was just heteros toeing the line of the gender binary whining about woes that weren’t theirs. Straight dudes fuck with all the privilege of the world cheering on their cumshots. They can’t sing this song. Inauthentic. It’s why the video went queer, violent. It’s why the remix flips the script, gives vocals to the beaten bedmates of queers everywhere, a woman.

Your lips carry your breath inside me, but mine carry the memories of times when I used to cry out ‘take me to church’. Because I held your hand. Because you saw me in boxer briefs. Because orgasm was ours. I grew up when it was still kosher, cache even, to pray the gay away. Presidential elections were won on the back of my dirty heart. Christians come today, in my mind, with the sound of clinking knives for footsteps. Ready to carve you up. My pastor threw me in a group of addicts. We were like narcotics users, drunks, gamblers. 12 steps your way to the cure, you’re powerless on your own. You’re powerless on your own to prevent one of the congregation from gay bashing you. Baptize yourself in love until you feel like drowning.

I wasn’t born sick. I am sick. And your caress is killing my cancer with each stroke up a body no one else will touch. You drain the sea in in me. So, I’ll worship the slopes of your pecs, feel my lips kiss the peaks and valleys of the mountain range of your abs. Ups and downs my mood no longer takes when I care for you. Amen.

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