Always comforted by binaries
So used to divisions of only Two
I found myself baffled when I
Entered the Ladies’ Room
And found a bunch of men
My pen and pain have become the same
Each thought of you
I scribble it down
Trying to write a story about ‘us’
I’ve only recently proved it to be true
Aai, Baba - I’m dying to just tell you.
Let’s meet at a place
Where instead of capturing
You in my words
I take in your laughter
And imprint it on me
For another lifetime
For gay poet Yun Hyun Seok, his name preceded and confirmed his existence/essence.
Society is constituted by language and language is constituted by society. It is through language that our existence is communicated and confirmed.
Away from the truth and hurting
A shallow living, prying
To be honest, but dying
Away from the hurt from the race
Im fine on a stage on my pace
Have you always known?
My attraction to pretty girls with
pretty eyes and sad stories.
Stories I re-told at lunch everyday, asking
for endings I knew nothing about.
Indemnify me for this gigantic emptiness of vast space
and for not having the courage to break it to my face
But since life is no fairy tale
The forever love promise soon become stale
My name day came and went
Suddenly there was no time to spend
When they define queer as "odd" and "strange"
Come to me and I shall educate you
Queer is normal.
Queer is beautiful.
Queer is fine.
One more of those moments is all I want - just once more
And I will buy myself back from you
Instead, can you keep my essence forever - however long or short that moment lasts?
I started believing in the dreams I never had,
Cancelling well laid out plans for the one who didn't have.
She carries burdens like flowers; says that scars are just rough kisses from the universe.
I kissed you under the mistletoe
Silently, secretly, afraid to let our cover blow
But we had to do it, it was Christmas time
I was yours and you were mine
I wonder if you think of me
On those sleepless moonlit nights
Of what we could have been
if you had said yes
Dreams of the texture of your hair…
In my room on the terrace,
I spend hours shifting in my self.
moving my breasts along my body,
adjusting my eye and putting it
near my lip.
Your vision is rippled with pleasure, as she glides, oblivious,
I die a little as you smile, secretly, hoping people don't see
In your arms your need throb's delusional
She is dearer to you than the air you breathe
Sometimes, I just want to be her.
will think about the time someone kissed every inch of my side
from my neck to my hip and I'll moan
My hands move down there slowly, I groan
Under my sheets, lie a treasure trove of memories
I melt into your softness,
Plunge into your wetness
I dip into you
For memories and treasures