I am not looking
for perfection,
like Plato and every
controlling prick
and crafted god
who wanted us to
see the world
as it is not.

No.No.
Fuck no.

This human,
this humanity,
is made through
falling short,
in striving,
in odding the even,
and evening the odd,
in mistakes and chinks,
in laughter too loud.

This is where I want
to be: among the misfits,
the strange, those whose
bodies are marked, and
all those who do not fit into
someone’s shitty ordered
plan that is, after all,
about control,
subjugation and the
subtle language of,
I know best.

Let those who do not
fit this order of perfection
sing together,
sing aloud,
sing a song
of release
of pride,
and look perfection
in its caved out marble eyes
and say that we
are strong,
that we are good,
that we are whole
and that’s enough.

 

19/3/2024