Rounder

The broad-palmed hand envelops me
The flame of a derrick on the beach
Like something precious deep inside
Something unclean
A good son is not found wanting
Coming half-dressed on his knees
Generalize, men become unspecific people I only see

Don't ask
Don't tell a soul
This uniform it fits me and I can hold the line
Empty hands
I see, not hold
The falconer I cry for can only watch me fly

I am not color, I am hue
I'm not another, I am you
This ace you carry in your clothes
Black arrow aimed at the shallow hole
Where you have buried your heart in fear
Of what a gentle hand could tear
Away from the costume you are hiding in

I will not be found weak
A wounded animal hides
Because it knows what happens if it screams
I am not a child
I just feel like one inside
He calls me beautiful
And the bruise is blooming blue again
My jaws clench trying not to cry

Don't ask

I am not color, I am hue
I'm not another, I am you
Take me or leave me, it's all the same
I'm yours to bury, yours to claim
Who do you love, I know full well
But I'm not of a mind to tell
To Peter, Christ himself wouldn't do
Deny and cry alone, too

When I try to say what I believe I am
I hear the laughter, echoed laughter
My affectations joining in
To block the runt the hogs the mirror
Posturing faggot in the mirror
The pale-faced lies I hide behind that I've become
Why am I so ashamed of my desire to be loved
Why am I so afraid that I tear away from touch
He closes in, and the buzzing in my head
Drowns us both in hoarse contritions as I run