The Box I Choose

By AJ Kelsey

Pick a box, that’s what they say.
Straight, bi, gay, pick one and own it.
If you’re straight, you must love football Sundays, beer drinking,
womanizing, dominating – I am man, hear me roar.
If you’re bi, you must be a confused. Like your cake in eat it too.
You can’t be trusted – with a guy, you’ll be looking at the ladies,
and with a girl you’ll be looking at the fellas.
If you’re gay, you must flamer, work your hips like a girl,
speaking words like “what’s up girlfriend,”
oh, yeah, and must be a hoe.
Fuck you, I’m not going to wear you labels –
wear a sign for your peace of mind.
I can’t be read like a book pulled from the shelf,
my title is classified and undefined.
I won’t take a side like some fucked up school yard –
Red Rover, Red Rover, send that faggot on over…
Bitch, please. My layers are far deeper than that.
I am the music that soothes your soul.
I am the voice that causes your consciousness to awaken.
I am a feminist, a warrior for women.
I’m a bitch that takes no shit.
I am the passionate lover who can bring you to your knees
in ecstasy – reveal your hidden desires.
I am a son, a brother, a lover, a stranger.
I am complex, made up of things you don’t even conceive.
I cannot, will not, be put in a box,
Forced to conform to some fucked up ideology of society.