one of these further days,
i'll go on those very long trips - to find myself.
and i'll send you a postcard wherever i go.
when i finally find wherever it is i want to be,
i'll still send you postcards.

they'll say things that make sleeping easy for you,
they'll say things that make breathing easy for you.
something i never experienced.
not even postcards

they'll smell like me,
but in different scents.
they can be wrapped around your fingertips without you even knowing it.

they can taste salty of different seas, and my eyewaters.
they can taste sweet of kisses, and different pastries because i am a sweettooth.

i then can be created to make you fall asleep.

i like the idea of doing that.

after the many years of experience in losing people,
i've come to a conclusion,
the greatest,easiest,fastest,most painful, and overall
most effective way to lose people is
stay the same while they change.

they'll find someone else who'll fit them more after they've changed.

you know those people that don't live in the present, but in the past, and the future.
i'm one of those people.
i've talked too much about my past, so here's for a change.

there's a white house, in it, two people of uncertain genders. one of them is me.
they smell like vanilla, and the scent chains itself to the purple bedsheets.
and between the bedsheets, lies too insominiacs soaking themself in white lights of morning.
perfect occasion for me to drag them out of bed, out of their clothes and onto my camera viewfinder.
after i finish reading to them another chunk from baudelaire.

we have tea. vanilla, raspberry, caramel, blueberry, whichever we have left.
i go bake for them. because we breakfast at its best, cake and tea.

we then could be splattering paint, going to the library, working on the photographs, or on the typewriters.
all this while we would of course be snorting some sort harmful chemicals because someone once told me;
you look like a heroine addict back then, it's beautiful.

and everyone who knows me, would know i will have this life.

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don’t believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Post this on your blog or website if you think homophobia is wrong.

from http://luftschloss.free.fr/