Existence (n.): in its most generic terms, it is the ability to, directly or indirectly, interact with reality or, in more specific cases, the universe.



painted lips and stuttering breaths

cataclysms that destroyed morality

we were well versed in the literature of secrets

and brewing storms with our gasps

my legs around her waist

her hands in my hair

and thunder in our veins

she’s been whispering lipsticks marks below my ears since years

i like to leave the scent of my fingertips

pressed on the nape of her neck like flower petals

because even though my heart beats

in the same rhythm as her eyelashes blink

my girlfriend is still the only one person i’ve friend zoned

but just for the rest of the world

just until the doors close.


i wear my pride t-shirt inside out

with the rainbow nestled against my chest

like the north star in the crook of the moon

and wear black on the outside

when the door latches shut

the spaces between my fingers

and filled by a boy

i keep my hair short and face clean

but in that march

i painted seven colors on my cheek

and shouted for freedom

you can make me wash off the glitter in the bathroom sink

but what will you do

when one day

we all stand  up and declare-

“we’ve marched enough

it’s time to plant our feet now”

right on your sacred land.


“i mean, you still like men, don’t you?”

“at least you can marry a guy”

i can

you’re not wrong

i might

if one steals my heart

but my choices are my choices

whether you understand or not

i will love who i love

sorry, ma

sorry, pops

your dreams will stay

just that-


because you see my future

in black and white

but I want to color it

in seven shades of the rainbow.


makeshifts roofs under highways

and sleeping bags ridden with holes

stuffed in corners of dark tunnels

is still better than a crib of gold

where my identity is based on others’ perceptions

because of what i was born with between my legs

like a tight corset i didn’t ask for

suffocating me in its grasp

no, thank you

i’ll take dumpster diving three times a day

than being treated like garbage

for wearing binders instead of skirts

i’d rather be a ‘sewage rat’, ‘unholy’ and ‘filthy’

at least you’ll refer to me with the pronouns i wanted

don’t you see?

that’s all i wanted all along.


lighters and matchsticks

hearths and bonfires

infernos erupting from volcanoes

or stones rubbing to create sparks

a million fires burn through the planet

in different shapes and sizes

but they have the same flame underneath

and they will keep burning.



Pride month is over. We celebrated, had rainbow shots, ate rainbow cupcakes and waved around our flags. Some of us wore a wristband or bracelet out in the open. Others drew a pride symbol on the inside of their sleeves. One way or another, it’s working. Our resilience is working. Our very existence is a threat to the homophobes, and that’s one thing they cannot wipe off.

We have celebrated a month. Now let’s celebrate the rest of the year. We’re still allowed to be who we are. We’re still allowed to exist. So now that Pride Month is officially over, let me be the first to wish you- HAPPY PRIDE YEAR. RAISE YOUR HEADS AND CONQUER 2018. THIS IS THE ‘GAY AGENDA’. SHOVE IT IN THE FACES OF BIGOTS. LET’S PAINT THE WORLD IN OUR COLORS.


For real tho. Stay strong, stay proud.



PS: There are so many more gender identities and sexual orientations that I did not represent in my poems and I’m truly sorry about that. I will get to them eventually. (: