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I am eating my way through hell

Sweet avocado, did you know

that soon the world will no longer

have room for you and poof

you will be gone? It feels as if

the sky will go on beyond and beyond

until there is nothing left but holy parents,

a gift we see but don’t until. Sweet avocado,

I am fretting and high and wondering

about sobriety, and the pearly gates on fire,

about how Oprah Winfrey invested in trees

with fruits so she would never go without.

Dear Queer God, if you hear me, send us

a sign, a squishy swish with no pit,

a King oval, a Hail Mary.

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Sweet avocado, show me the gold harp

Under your dress, how to strum alongside

Every lie, every story, tell me

What rainbow you reside on

What slide of what color

Show me, sweet avocado,

The daring days of yore

Where you believed in something

Like my golden harp under my skirt,

What is heaven but more of this

Stories you have told yourself

To have a forever to believe in

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Praise Queer God

From whom all blessings flow

Praise them,

All creatures

In blush cheeks and red puckered lips

Fake lashes for days, gold metallic hot pants

(here) (below)

Praise them,

And the pulse beat of the music

When everyone is shirtless

And dancing together, sweat in eyes

Tongues bite necks

And heaven is a gay club

And we are merely ecstasy away

From morning

Praise Mother, Sun, and

Holy (Ghost).

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Dear Queer God,

They know exactly what they do

so no deliverance needed.

I don’t trust you
If you don’t believe
Black and brown bodies
routinely die
at the hands of police
and are not actively
taking action of protection
that’s just facts
I don’t make the rules
Put your body on the line
Put your power on the line

Dear Queer God,

Forgiveness is so far away

I don’t trust you
if you are a straight white lady
exploiting queer and trans lives
for your own profit gain
benefiting from narrative
not yours to claim
when the stakes are too high
when your life is not in danger
for the narratives
you love enough to co-opt
I don’t make the rules
Put your livelihood on the line
Put your privilege on the line

Dear Queer God,

How many cheeks to turn

Before we run out of faces

And we have to take matters

into our own hands

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God is queer and bashful these days

Sending wishes like blankets, a kind of forgiveness

So unlike her. I am awaiting wrath and vengeance,

Instead of a sooth. Say, gaze into my ball,

Show me what magic does. Praise the glow,

Praise the juvenescence, Praise the heavenly hip

And curls.

Here, I use my first wish: Queer God

Serve some well-deserved justice please.




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It’s a heaven where insatiably cherub faced femmes greet you, hair as high as high as high and red manicured hands in prayer saying hello sweet avocado you finally made it but are you sober yet after all these years, we’ve been waiting through the spill a drop and the pill a pop one two three in little lines down neck or toliet and we’ve all been waiting for you for so long, RIP simply means sometimes you cannot enter, sometimes you get one more chance.