Dear Politically-Correct-Frugalistic-Conservative-Republican,
(Jock, Christian, Ignorant, Illiterate, Incompetent)

I am a haze of effeminate properties-
my clothes, they hug my body- they proclaim me-
define me while killing words. The way I move,
the way I speak, is political abortion- masculinity-failure
the epitome of potential 'fuck-you-fag' dialogues.

For this I sing.

For my physique, skin hugs ribs, or wants to-
desires of perfection isn't common throughout all
humans. Just women.
Right?
My attempts at perfection keep me awake, keep me sane-
keep me, how I want me
to be.

For this I sing.

This is me saying 'Fuck You'.
This is me, in fabric-skin clothes-
adorned in unlike-you garments screaming who I am.
This is me speaking, moving,
being.
Not how you like- not like your dictionary 'boy'
Not like you.
No, I'm not like you, and I will die this way.

Unordinary. Extraordinary.

And for this I sing.