It gets vulgar

She makes me thirsty
makes me hunger
for the prowl
like I’m an animal
like the primal is right now
she makes me want it
want something now profound
it’s not a compliment
to awaken the animal inside of me
She makes me thirsty
and I feel so far in need
but it’s a farce I know
it’s all a matter of my eyes
it’s the problem you see
with knowing what a female means
she makes me thirsty
and in truth more than wet
I’m getting vulgar
but the kind can easily forget
we got libido
and it changes everything
she makes me thirsty
but I know better
than to make her scream

Ode to bisexuals

Ode to bisexuals
who are never harmed
by stereotypes
or jokes taken too far.
To the ones
who don’t notice the hate
in your stare
for not noticing
the disdain in the air.
Ode to bisexuals
the picky and proud
to the ones who play stereotypes
and the ones who aren’t bound.
Ode to bisexuals
who don’t get harassed
though what you’ve been through
should be defined as that.
Ode to bisexuals
the erased and abused
to all of those who
have been beaten and used.
To the ones the community
just up and forgot
unless they remember to fling
hate at our lot.
To the ones who have loved, lived
and have thrived.
To the ones who
didn’t make it out alive.
Ode to bisexuals
who believe in themselves
no matter what the rest say
you know you’re valid as well
never forget that your stories matter.
Ode to bisexuals
and always remember:
you aren’t gay enough-
you don’t even have to try,
no passing privilege-
you are just bi, bi, bi.