I am ill. they say.
So, buy me some vitamin shots.
I want a dark blue day.
Keep me like an apple that rots.
Apple that green, once and light a shade.
And i smell of night shade.
But, it is girly, they say.
The way i smell.
I smell sweet, sugary and caramelized.
Because i bake.
I bake cinnamon cookies and carrot cakes.
I bake life into particles of buttered coconut dust.
I lust, them loins.
And around them, flowers.
In colours of red, gold and green.
I love pink too.
And pink is the symbol of gay, they say.
I do what my heart wants.
And they won’t.
Because, they keep telling themselves not to.
I don’t need no cure.
I scream silently,
bold and pure.
And say, no more.