Coming out of the closet

Sometimes,

 i watch a glum looking toad

crawl off my tongue

and so  i creep

 back into my closet

because i just 

used a bad

word

a divisive 

word

unacceptable judgemental 

politically immoral 

stereotypical 

escapist 

word

so now i hide 

behind hangers 

and tremble a little

like a small girl 

shivering in  winds 

of unbound beauty blowing jumbles

of wildflowers  

and

hope and love and peace and every gorgeous thing

labeled 

as silly 

and archaic

prosaic 

old fashioned 

and out of touch

but yes

the drug of the masses

does touch

me

(oh why don’t I just go stick some platitudes in a vase and be done with it?)

rather than roll around in lilac blooms

admitting that 

i love 

to pray

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