Escaping the Shadow of Hate

[Brownlie]

I sense my father's dumb, outdated homophobia rising in me
when I look at you: shameless, sexually aggressive slut,
flame of blond hair
through an ennui of scalp;
you tremble with a narcissism I just want to punch.

"Me too" I think, alone in this tear between self and hatred,
"I'm gay, like you". But there's something about you
that's so sickening; your touchy-ness, your arrogance,
that stupid and pandering way you give every word
a second meaning, almost sucking your fingers
like some demented bitch.

I had to get some air. Standing alone on the porch of the pub,
as signs still glowed in a vacuous dark,
I leaned against a rail and wanted to be somewhere warm,
without you.

Gay men still scare me, I think,
and a shudder licks my heart as I type this.

Ennui? Did you just read The Awakening? How can you have an Ennui of scalp though? The anger is palpable here but feels unrefined. Explitive words like "bitch" evoke a seething rant which may be what you want. If you're a poet you better get used to gay people. Is this about you being gay and your father transmitting his hate onto you. So he has given you a sense of self hatred. I should be more tenuous in my reading I'm sorry if I haphazardly read your piece. Good luck.