Work Text:
Birth
A child is born on a chilly December night
Screaming in unison with its mother
The birth does not happen at a hospital
Nor at a warm home with a nursery
Nor even at a barn, underneath God’s loving watch
No, it happens in a rundown apartment
On the outskirts of a city
Covered in its mother's blood
Its father catches it in his arms
As it screams, screams, screams
Anyone who looks at it can tell
There is something wrong with it
Its screams too loud
Its body too small
Its mother’s blood staining the sheets
The child is not what it was meant to be
It's good that only its parents are there
For anyone else would be disgusted by its existence
The child is wrong, filthy, sinful
All are born of sin
This child was born of nothing else
Its parents watch its squirming form
Listen to its cries
They know they’ve created something they shouldn’t have
Something disgusting, something horrible, something unlovable
It continues to scream
Its mother cries
Maybe her parents were right
Its father’s expression is blank
Maybe he made a mistake
But it’s too late now
The child continues to howl
They don’t bother to clean the blood on it
Its father sets it in the cardboard box they prepared for it
And they try to forget it exists
They can’t let it die, it’s still a living being
They can’t love it, it’s something unholy
So they ignore it instead, set it in the closet, try to ignore the screams
It won’t receive a nursery, a cradle, nor a name
When they fill out the birth certificate
Its mother writes down ‘John Doe’ on the dotted line.
0
Their nameless child is screaming
It never seems to stop
Its calls are that of a banshee, as it screams, screams, screams
Like a damned soul, like a demon straight from hell
It raises its small hands towards the sky
Towards the kingdom of heaven
Which it cannot reach
It is unrepentant, sinful, filthy
Something is wrong with it, they’re sure everyone can see
It only screams
It cries and clings to everything like it’ll die if it stops
Sometimes she wishes it truly would
It screams so loud, it takes and it takes and it takes
Screams and takes and ruins
Never satisfied, she’s trying, she has to
The Lord gave it to her, she must try
But it is never satisfied
It screams for more, grabs onto her, it refuses to let go
Maybe this is punishment
It must be
Punishment for her sins, punishment for the sins of them both
A horrible creature that is supposed to be their child
With her dark hair, her turquoise eyes, her pale skin
A horrible, incorrect copy of herself
That continues to scream, and scream, and scream
And she screams back, screams because she didn’t want this
She wanted freedom, adventure, love
She didn’t want this monster
And so she screams at it, screams for it to shut its mouth
It does, only for a moment
And then it continues, even louder than before.
1
A father watches His child, watches the being He crafted grow
The child is small, still, vulnerable as it stares up at its father
A tiny hand reaches towards Him
Reaches for the guidance and protection He is meant to provide
He watches the hand closely, watches His child
His greatest creation, His son
Who is already doomed to fall
He looks into the eyes from His lover,
Into the nose from Himself,
Into the hands reaching for Him
He listens to the sounds it makes
Now much quieter than they used to be
The child’s voice almost sounds like His own
He has never been one to defy fate
He will not try now, either
He answers the child’s call, just this once
Raises it into His arms
For now, the child is still just that
His son, His child
Innocent and unknowing of its own fate
He knows not to grow attached
He knows it will not stick
But He brushes the brown curls away from His son’s eyes
And His heart is racing
As it reaches its hands towards Him still
He has made a mistake
He should have never created this thing
He sets the child back down, despite its protests
And walks away
From His child, His son
His very own Morningstar.
2
A caterpillar crawls on a blade of grass
It is small, it is slow, it is vulnerable
Unaware of the child watching it with wide eyes
Just as small, just as slow, just as vulnerable
It reaches a small hand towards the insect
Smiling as it crawls onto its finger
It holds it close to its face
Wonder and curiosity in its eyes
And it stands up on shaky legs
Wobbles over to its mother
She is laying on the grass as well
Just a short distance away from it
Her expression calm, her mind somewhere far away
She stares at the clouds with widened pupils
That her child is used to by now
It reaches towards her
The insect still on its hand
Something so small, so vulnerable, so alive
Its smile drops as she scowls
Sits up with a look of pure disgust
As she stares at something so horrible, so wrong, so filthy
She scoots further away and looks back at the sky instead
Goes back inside her own mind
Where nothing is wrong and it doesn’t even exist
And her child tears up as it turns away
It sets the caterpillar back onto the grass
And pretends it doesn’t even exist.
3
A trailer is parked at the edge of a beach
And on the steps of that trailer
Sits an angel
Her hair is pale, her skin tanned
Her voice soft and melodic as she speaks
She looks human, in a long, yellow dress
But the child knows she must be an angel
It knows when she smiles at it
Her eyes gentle and curious as it plays in the sand
It knows when she asks for its name
And doesn’t look upset when it can’t answer
It knows she must be an angel
Only an angel could show it that kindness
The child listens in from its room a few days later
When the angel is inside of their trailer
Laughing and talking with its parents
There is a smell of smoke in the air
The sound of music all around them
The angel singing along to the lyrics
It watches as she drinks from a bottle
And a lipstick stain is left on its rim
She is an angel
And it cannot look away
A week passes
The angel keeps visiting
And one time she knocks on the child’s door
Hiding something behind her back
With a heavenly smile on her lips
She shows it a stuffed animal
A small rabbit, even paler than her hair
She tells it it’s a gift
And doesn’t pull it away when it reaches for it
Grabs it with small and shaking hands
Looks at her with hope and fear
As it pulls it close to its chest
And she smiles wider
And it smiles back
But a few weeks pass
And the trailer leaves the spot at the beach
The child sits in its small bedroom
As the angel stays behind
And it pulls the toy she gave it closer to itself
And the quiet trailer is filled with the sounds
Of a child’s crying.
4
A Father watches over his children playing with a smile
Not his children by blood, but his by the word of God
Set under his care while their parents work
Under his protection as his duty as a Father
He watches as they play and socialize
Watches as they grow up and learn
He smiles, he loves them all
Whether they are his by blood or not
Except his smile fades
As his eyes land on the smallest one
Sitting at the edge of the playground
Staring at the other children with wide eyes
The child rarely speaks, or plays, or learns
Only sits still, and stares
Sometimes at the children
Sometimes at the Sisters caring for them
Sometimes at the Father watching over them
Occasionally, the child will sing, or laugh, or cry, or scream
There is never a clear reason for it
There is something wrong with the child
The Father knows it, so do the Sisters, so do the other kids
There is something wrong
With a child who does not play or speak
Only sits and stares with an unreadable expression
And only God can cast judgment
So the Father does not judge
But he can’t help but question
If maybe this is nothing but a demon in disguise
A changeling from hell
A child of Satan himself
He looks away, looks back at his children
Playing, socializing, growing, learning
Only God can cast judgment
While the Father watches over God’s children.
5
It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s snowing outside
It has been for several weeks
A child lays on a bed too large for him
Sweat on his brow
Tears in his eyes
Shivers and sobs wrecking his body
He cries out, pleads for help
For relief from the pain
His mother watches him in the dark
Her expression remains unchanged
Her words colder than the wind outside
You were born wrong
You were born sinful
You were born a mistake in this world
And for that you must suffer
For that you must repent
Only through pain
Through sickness
Through torment
Will you pay for your sins
The child continues to lay on the bed
Clutching the gift an angel gave him
His head hurts
His throat hurts
His entire body hurts
He’s afraid he might die here
He weeps, begs for help
For comfort from everything
His father steps into the room
He takes a swig from a bottle
His words slurred and unfocused
You’ll thank us when you’re older
This is good for you in the long run
It’ll make you stronger
It’ll make you more independent
Medicine would only poison your body
Doctors would only poison your mind
Care would only poison your soul
Sickness is natural
You’ll get better on your own
They leave the bedroom
Leave the cold and the dark
The child clutches his sheets
He continues to sob
He does not call for his parents anymore
He knows they will not come
But he cries, weeps, sobs
He begs and pleads and prays
For the pain to end
For the torment to lessen
He asks for his creator
He reaches for a God
He asks for mercy
He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong
Yet the snow continues to fall
And his body continues to hurt
And his cries go unheard in the dark.
6
A child watches another on the playground
He has a blue shirt, brown shorts, green shoes
He notices the child staring
He does not frown or run away in disgust
He asks if he wants to play together
And the child nods yes
They sit on the grass together
He has black hair, hazel eyes, a kind smile
He explains the rules of the game they’ll play
After a while, a bell rings
He asks if he wants to play again tomorrow
The child nods again with a smile
They play together the next day, and the next, and the next
He has a loud voice, an active imagination, a pet cat
He has an older sister, a nice laugh, a favorite color
He has fun ideas, clean clothes, soft hands
He’s kind
He’s smart
He’s funny
He’s patient, loud, kind
Adults sometimes talk about love
Maybe this is what they’re talking about
The child has seen his parents kiss before
Heard about it in songs
Seen it in movies
He’s kind
He has soft lips
A teacher pulls them apart
Their parents are called
The child yelled at
He’s disgusting, an abomination, a freak, a pervert, a queer, a faggot
He cries, he didn’t know
The adults don’t care
The children don’t play together after that day.
7
He’s always liked music
He likes it when his parents put on a record
And he gets to listen to it from behind his bedroom door
He likes hearing his father play the guitar late at night
Likes it more when his mother sings along to the sound
She sings in a language he can’t understand
But it lulls him to sleep all the same
He likes sitting in the back of the church
Memorizing all the hymns in his small mind
He likes singing with the birds outside
Humming tunes that replicate their calls
He likes how when he sings during music class
For once, he’s not looked at with hatred or indifference
Music is something good
Something beautiful
Something holy
And when he sings, for a moment
He gets to be that way too
Each lyric is a prayer
With each new sound
He slowly becomes purer
When he sings
He gets to be good
Beautiful
Holy
When he writes songs on pieces of paper
With lyrics like the ones he hears on the radio
He becomes a person
He becomes someone worthy of love
His teacher watches him finish another song
He’s kinder than most
Patient even when he does not deserve that
He will not be in his life for long
Soon enough they’ll move somewhere else again
But for now, he is
After class, he gives the child an empty notebook
Something for him to write his songs in
For a moment, the child feels worthy
He feels loved, he feels pure
He can barely stop the tears from falling
As he shakily writes a name on the cover
‘Kian’, marking it as his own.
8
Who is Kian
It's a question that keeps plaguing him
What are his likes
What is his personality
Which parts of himself can he keep
And which must he throw away
He wants Kian to be liked
He wants Kian to be better than he's been
Who is he now
It's a question he should think about
He is quiet, he is filthy, he is sinful
He is weird, he is wrong
Kian doesn't want to be any of those things
People don't like him when he is those things
And so he'll become something different
He'll go from quiet to loud
From filthy to clean
From sinful to holy
He starts talking
He becomes friendlier
He keeps changing
Until suddenly people complain that he's too loud
He's too much to deal with
But at least they don't ignore him anymore
He keeps his clothes clean
Avoids getting himself dirty
Makes himself nice to look at
Until people start whispering behind his back
He's too obsessed with his looks, a fucking sissy
But at least they don't avoid being near him
He prays every day
He prays to be fixed, to be made better
But God never answers his calls
Kian wants to be different than he was
He doesn't keep much from who he was before
He continues to sing, he learns the basics of guitar
People like his music, they don't like anything else
He keeps the small rabbit plush
Hides it in an empty box under his bed so nobody knows
Everything else can change
He dyes his hair, red and blue and pink and black
He changes how he talks, changes how he acts
Every new town and city they stop at
Is a chance to try again
It never seems to work
People still don't like him
He's still weird, he's still not right
But he keeps trying
He'll keep trying, and eventually he'll get it right
Eventually he'll become better
Eventually he'll become good.
9
Kian sits on his bed
His fingers interlocked
The stars glow in through his window
It's dark outside, and it's dark inside too
He says it does not bother him
But there is nobody to hear the lie but himself
He closes his eyes
Takes a deep breath
He asks for his Lord
He calls to a loving God
It's the same every night
He pleads for forgiveness
He begs to be fixed
He knows he is wrong
He knows he is sinful
But he wants to be better
He calls to a merciful God
It's the same every night
He hears no response
He is not changed
He is not forgiven
He is not remade
Day after day
Night after night
He keeps praying
He keeps calling
He calls to a powerful God
But it's never enough
His parents are already asleep
And so he takes to his room their bible
He grabs sticks of incense and matches
He kneels on the floor
Lights a match with shaking hands
For a moment, it keeps the darkness away
He calls to a forgiving God
But the match burns quickly
It drops to the floor, burnt out
Leaving small burns on his fingers
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts
As his mother's words echo in his mind
He was born wrong
And only through pain can he pay for his sins
He wants to repent, he wants to be better
He calls to an all-seeing God
Pinches himself, and repeats a prayer
For him to be forgiven, for him to be fixed
There is still no response
He hits himself, as hard as he can
He repeats his words again
It'll work eventually, it has to
He'll keep trying
Until he is fixed.
10
Kian is broken
He is wrong, he is unwanted, he is sinful
It's how he's always been
But it's not how he wants to be
He wants to be better
He wants to be good, loved, holy
He tries, he tries, he tries
He studies other people
He tries to be like them
But he can never get it right
He tries to learn from his mistakes
He tries to do better
But his parents still refuse to love him
He prays to God
He begs to be fixed
But there is never an answer
He prays, he prays, he prays
But he is still filthy
But he still gets crushes on boys
But he is still broken
He covers his body in bruises and burns
He steals a knife from the kitchen
And uses it to cut his own skin
A punishment for his sins
A sacrifice of blood to a God
A plea for mercy
Yet nothing changes
Why, he can't help but ask
He asks for forgiveness
He doesn't receive it
He asks for mercy
But he only gets more pain
Why would an all-knowing
All-powerful
All-loving God
Choose to leave him like this
A being with all the power in the universe
Yet He won't use a small fraction of it to help
Why let him suffer
Why let anyone suffer
When He could stop it all
Why craft Kian like this
A filthy, unlovable, unwanted queer
When He could fix him whenever He wanted
This is how he's always been
He can't fix himself
But he wants to, he wants to be good
So why won't God let him
Kian is sinful
But he doesn't want to be
Why, why, why
Would an all-knowing
All-powerful
All-loving God
Leave him to suffer?
11
Ants crawl on his skin
Grasshoppers chirp around him
A butterfly lands on his hand
Kian's been sitting still for a while
While two other boys sit next to him on the grass
They're talking about something
That Kian doesn't really get
But he doesn't mind
They're nice to be around
The butterfly flies away
And he watches it go
It's already been almost two months
He'll probably leave soon as well
He wishes he didn't have to
He likes this town
A small, quiet place in the middle of a bayou
He likes it more than big cities
But he knows better than to hope to stay
He knows not to get too attached
Not to the bird nest outside their trailer
Not to the people who at least tolerate him
Not to the two boys sitting on the grass with him
He won't stay for long
He never does
Even if his parents seem to like this place too
Even if they've gotten close to a religious commune
They won't want to stay here for long
They never do
He wishes he could stay here, still
He wishes he could be friends with the boys next to him
They're nice to him
They don't complain when he's too loud or too much
They listen to him, they laugh with him, they don't look at him weird
But he knows better than to hope for that
He doesn't have friends
At most friendly classmates
But he wishes he did
He wishes he could stay with them
Just a year ago he would have prayed for it
But he knows better now
God will never respond to his prayers anyways.
12
It's a warm summer night
Kian sits on a windowsill
Watches the stars in the sky above
He looks for familiar constellations
Tries to remember the myths behind them
While behind him
His friends sleep soundly
The word still sounds foreign in his mind
Friends, he plays it on repeat
Whispers it into the light breeze
A prayer, a promise, a plea
A quiet, secret wish for this to last
For their friendship to last
He wants to stay near them
They make him feel real
They make him feel alive
They make him feel worthy
Of their attention
Of their love
These moments he gets with them
They are holy
Holier than any saint or angel
More sacred than any church or temple
Nights spent sleeping in Rand's attic bedroom
Rolan's laugh when they do something stupid
Days exploring the bayou together
Or causing problems around town
Getting scolded by their teachers during class
Or playing made up games to pass the time
Showing them new songs he likes
Or listening to them talk about fantasy stories
Smoking cigarettes stolen from their parents
Or dyeing his hair again with their help
Falling asleep while leaning on their shoulders
Or just sitting on the grass outside with them
All of it
It is sacred
It is holy
Kian might be sinful
He might be a horrible monster
But they make him into something better
With them, he can be good
He can be lovable
He can be pure
He can be a person
He looks at their sleeping forms
And he knows
This is the closest to Heaven he will ever be.
13
He is filthy, he is disgusting, he is sinful
Kian is sin itself
He wraps his arms around himself
A useless defense from his own mind
From his own heart
He knew better
He'd been warned
Kian is everything wrong in this world
And now his friends are stained by his hand
They might not know it yet
But eventually they will
And they will be disgusted with him
They will know what he is
And they will never forgive him for defiling them
He hadn't meant for this to happen
But it does not matter
When no matter what his intentions
His heart still picks up speed
When Rand wraps his arm around him
When Rolan smiles at him as they talk
His intentions do not matter
He has stained them anyways
His friends are holy
They are clean, they are good
They are sacred
And Kian has dirtied them with his love
He is nothing but a monster
Filthy, disgusting, sinful
He is a demon dragging others to hell with him
He is wrong by his very nature
He tries to be better
He wants to be better
He needs to be better
God won't help him
That much he has already understood
So he'll take matters into his own hands
He'll fix his own perversion
He'll make himself clean
He'll make himself deserving of mercy
No matter what it costs
How much of his own blood he has to spill
He'll become better
He'll make himself deserving
Of mercy
Of forgiveness
Of life
Of his friends.
14
Kian has always been something horrible
Something disgusting
Something sinful
Something unlovable
But right now
He is something else
He is holy
He is beautiful
He is wonderful
Laying on a patch of grass outside
Deep in the forests behind their trailer
He looks at the ever-changing clouds
All he'd need to do is raise his hand
To touch the kingdom of Heaven
He is holy
He is pure
He is alive
He closes his eyes
Feels himself slowly rise off the ground
He smiles
A wide, ecstatic smile
He understands now
Why his parents think this brings them closer to God
Why they prefer this over sobriety
Why they prefer this over him
Something tickles at his fingers and toes
Spreads quickly to his hands, his feet
Up his arms and legs
He looks, there are flowers growing from him
Lilies, tulips, roses, so many others
Blooming out of his skin
He giggles, laughs as he looks at them
He probably seems like a maniac
Maybe he is one
It doesn't matter
When for once
He is holy
As the flowers continue to grow from him
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Wanted
Loved
Holy
Until alongside the roses
There begins to grow a vine
Covered in sharp thorns
That stab into his skin
He cries out
Tries to wipe the vines away
But they only stick to him harder
They begin crawling up the rest of his body
No, they're not thorns
They're insects
Hundreds of them, thousands of them
Crawling on his skin
Burrowing inside him
Stinging him again, again, again
He screams
He tries to get them off
But they begin crawling inside his mouth and eyes
No matter how badly he tries to claw them off
They keep coming
He lays on the ground, paralyzed
As the bugs take over him
They tear away the flowers
Eat away at his insides
And he cries
As they defile him
Break him
Stain him
Make him into something sinful again.
15
Kian looks into the mirror
And something that cannot be him looks back
Something beautiful
Heavenly
Good enough to be mistaken for an angel
He has Kian's face and body
When he speaks, they sound the same
And when he moves, so does the reflection
But you could not mistake them for each other
His reflection is something so much better
He has bleached blonde hair
It's wavy and perfect and undamaged
Not the curly mess that Kian's hair is
His clothes are fashionable and fit him perfectly
They're clean in a way that Kian never is
The golden jewelry he wears shines
As Kian tilts his head to the side
He leans in closer
Inspects the face in the mirror
There are no freckles
His skin is smooth and perfect
He is perfect, beautiful
With long, dark lashes
Lips a shade of red that matches his eye shadow
Symmetrical, perfect eyeliner
Fitting of a rockstar
Kian moves
And his reflection shines
Glows with a heavenly light
He smiles
The star in his mirror smiles back
Kian Stone, that's what he named him
A rockstar
An angel
Kian Stone.
16
Kian Stone is burning
His body is a fiery inferno
Melting underneath Jesse's touch
He leaves nothing but flame and ashes in his wake
With each drag of his fingers
Another spark is lit
With each movement
The fires grow higher
With each touch of his lips
Kian burns brighter
He is burning
Burning, burning, burning
It must be a punishment
For his sins
For everything he is
For letting himself be defiled
With the lust of his same sex
He cries quietly
His tears do nothing to put out the flames
Jesse pauses for a moment
And Kian nods, tells him to keep going
He hates himself
Hates himself, hates himself, hates himself
For allowing this
For wanting this
For enjoying this
He should be able to resist the temptation
Should hate being used like some common whore
But he loves it
The fire that he knows is meant as a punishment
It only makes him feel even better
He is disgusting, filthy, sinful
A queer, a pervert, a faggot
He knows, even now, God is watching him
Judging him
Condemning him to hell
He pulls Jesse even closer against him
Presses their lips together
It tastes of smoke and embers
He doesn't care what God has to say
He doesn't care what He thinks
Kian is sinful, filthy, disgusting
But God was the one who made him this way
And he's too tired to fight the temptation anymore.
17
Kian Stone has never felt more alone
Than he does at this moment
He stares at the stars
Feels them mocking him with their shine
He stares, ignores the tears in his eyes
How selfish can he be
To be feeling like this
When his friends are going through far worse
When Rachel is missing
And Rand is destroying himself in his grief
When Rolan is going through a meltdown
And those bodies he saw were never found
How dare Kian feel bad
When he has gone through nothing
He stares at the night sky
Feels the chill of the nightly wind
He is cold, tired, hungry
Alone
He has nobody to go to
Maybe that's how it was always meant to be
People like him don't deserve
A shoulder to cry on
Or friends to laugh with
People like him die alone on nights like these
How long would it take
Before someone noticed he was missing
Before someone came looking
His parents wouldn't search for the monster they'd created
His friends wouldn't be capable of looking for him
Becky's gone, Jesse doesn't care
For a moment, he wonders if Dickman would come looking for him
Before remembering
He doesn't care either
No matter how badly Kian wishes he did
God looks down at him
Watches him cry alone
A reminder, an accusation, a lesson
He should have been the one lost instead
At least then
Nobody would have needed to mourn the loss.
18
In the unbearable heat of the California air
Kian Stone finally dares hope for something better
Not out of trust for the world
Nor out of faith in his Creator
Nor out of a realistic wish for the future
But because he has finally been given the option to
As he walks into a crowded nightclub
Where the music pounds in his ears
And nobody even looks at him twice
He knows he's finally where he belongs
He belongs underneath neon-lights
With smoke blowing in his face
As people press against him with every step
He belongs sitting at a bar
Sipping on a drink that's almost nothing but alcohol
And he didn't even need to show his fake ID for
His head growing cloudy
And his legs beginning to shake
As he continues to drink
Continues to smoke
Continues to speak with someone
Continues to laugh at jokes he can't even hear
But it doesn't matter
Because the people around are just like him
They are sinners, perverts, freaks
They are loud, they are happy, they are unapologetic
He belongs here
Far from the reach of God
Dancing against a stranger
Here there are no pastors to tell him he will burn in hell
No old people to look at him in disgust
No young people to beat him up
The gospel of a Lord he tried to follow for so long
It does not matter here
It cannot reach him here
He is free
He is disgusting and sinful and horrible
And yet, he is wanted anyways.
19
Kian Stone doesn't miss Galloway
He doesn't miss the constant buzzing of insects
Or the swamps one would sink into
Or the hatred from his neighbors
He doesn't miss his parents
Even if he wishes they would miss him
He doesn't miss having to fear for his life
Even if it hasn't left, it's just different now
Kian Stone doesn't miss Galloway
But there's still a small part of him that does
It misses when he would hang out with his friends
Instead of just getting drunk with people he doesn't know
It misses how loved he felt when he was with Becky
And not with strangers who never stay for more than a night
It misses spending his days at Rand's home
Where he always felt safe and clean and wanted
It misses how quiet the nights in Galloway were
When the constant sounds of the city get too much
It misses the forests around Galloway
The closest he has now is a badly maintained park
It misses getting to see his friends every day
Especially when yet another call to Rolan goes straight to voicemail
And his calls with Rand get shorter when he still doesn't have a record deal
No, Kian Stone doesn't miss Galloway
But a part of him does still miss home.
20
Ever since he was a child
He has been a performer
He is a singer, an actor, a liar
He never wanted to be that way
He never meant to bear false witness
But he had to defend his parents
But he had to defend his friends
But he had to defend himself
He doesn't want to lie
But sometimes it's better than telling the truth
He doesn't want to live in a lie, either
But anything is better than the truth
Better than the disappointment he hears
When he's still only trying to make it
Better than Rolan almost never calling him back
Because he has better things to do than talk to him
Better than Rand's boredom when they talk
Since Kian never has anything new to say
Better than Becky still not showing up
Even though it's been a few years
Better than nobody looking at him twice
Unless they want something from him
Kian Stone doesn't have a life like that
Kian Stone isn't supposed to be like that
He's lovable, talented, inspirational, holy, good
But Kian Stone is a rockstar
And he isn't
And if he isn't
Then he can't be Kian Stone
And without that
He is nothing but Kian again
Unwanted, annoying, sinful, disgusting
He can't go back to that
He can't be that again
And so, when he talks to Rand next
He says he's finally getting somewhere
And Rand sounds happy for him
Even if there's something else there as well
And he can ignore the guilt of lying to him
Because it's only for a short while
Just until he makes it for real
Just until things go how they're supposed to
He only lies because he has to
It's not even the worst sin he's committed
And it won't last for long.
21
You can't see the stars in the city
Not like you could in other places
As a child, whenever they weren't in a city
He'd look at the stars for hours
He'd find comfort in seeing them
In seeing the lights of Heaven
The hundreds, thousands of eyes of God
All watching the Earth below
You could always see the stars in Galloway
And Kian could find comfort in them
Not by thinking of God
But by looking for the constellations
Learning the myths they carried
Feeling like he was part of something bigger
He'd write songs about the stories
That he swore he'd perform to millions some day
Those songs were in a notebook he no longer has
They're rotting in a landfill somewhere
Just like most of his things left in the apartment
After he couldn't pay his rent again
Kian Stone sits on a park bench
And he looks at the sky
But he can't see the stars
The closest he has are planes occasionally passing by
There are no stories for him to learn and retell
No songs for him to write
He used to be comforted by the thought
That even God's eyes couldn't see him here
But now it just leaves him feeling even lonelier
Even more exposed, helpless, vulnerable
He knows God would never help him anyways
But a part of him wishes He could see him still
Maybe He'd feel pity for him
Guide him towards a safe place to rest, at least
But he knows better than to hope for that
He's on his own, and he always will be.
22
Kian Stone rarely feels
Like he's in control anymore
Not of his life, not of his mind
Not of his body, especially
He wonders, if this is all part of a greater plan
Did he ever have control in the first place
Was he always destined to end up here
Could he have changed anything
Can he change anything now
Could he say no, choose something different
It doesn't feel like he could
Not when even his own body doesn't belong to him anymore
Or at least that's how it feels
When he spends yet another night on a different motel bed
When he drinks yet another drink he can't afford
When he yet again gets on his knees
And makes a false idol of whoever he is with
He never complains, never says no
He used to, at first
But even if most of them reacted well
The few who didn't were always louder
No, he doesn't say no
Instead, he prays
Silently, in his mind
As he lets himself be used, he prays
Not to God
Not to Jesus, not even to Mother Mary
No, he prays to someone he hopes would understand
He calls to Mary Magdalene
He doubts she's listening
He doubts she cares
But he prays anyways
Not for help, not for aid
He chose this
And he knows he wouldn't receive it anyways
He's not sure what he is praying for
Maybe he just does it to have someone to talk to
Someone he can be honest with
Someone who might understand
Though he doubts she would
She probably hates him as well
For not repenting, not giving himself to the Lord
He doubts she holds any empathy for him
But still, he repeats her name in his mind
Again and again, night after night
As he keeps going, and nothing ever changes
As he continues to play the role he was given
As he gives up control of the script
Willingly worships whoever pays
Or gives him a place to sleep for the night
Or food to eat
Or even just a few kind words
He lets anyone do whatever they want
His body isn't his to control anyways
Maybe nothing is.
23
Underneath the colorful lights at a packed nightclub
Kian Stone meets an angel
She has dark skin and thick curls
She wears a white, glowing dress
That hugs her frame and ends at her thighs
Even sitting down, she is tall
Kian feels small as he sits next to her
She's something pure and holy
An angel that got lost somehow
She smiles at him, and his face heats up
Though he hides it quickly
He calls her babe, asks to buy her a drink
Spends what little money he has on indulgences
And she giggles, the sound almost hypnotizing
She speaks with a thick southern accent
It reminds him of home
She calls him darling
She accepts the offer
They share a drink, then two, then three
He's starting to feel light-headed
And she continues to look just as heavenly
She asks if he'd like to go back to his place together
He asks her to join him in the restroom instead
So she doesn't find out he has no home to return to
She glows underneath the fluorescent lights
An ethereal being, something out of this world
He leans in to kiss her
But she pulls away now
A nervous frown on her perfect lips
He asks her what's wrong
She asks him if he knows what a tranny is
He says he's heard of them before
She asks, would he be okay sleeping with one
A lady who was born a man
A chick with the wrong parts
He nods, he wouldn't mind
She smiles, and he thinks he might fall in love
So he gets on his knees
And worships the angel standing above him.
24
Do you know what a tranny is
The question repeats again and again in Kian Stone's mind
A tranny, transvestite, transsexual
Men who are women and women who are men
People who are both, others who are neither
The concept sticks to his brain
It refuses to leave
It's made a home of his thoughts
Without his permission or want
He, she, they, it, both, neither, she, he, neither, both
God makes no mistakes
So how does it even happen, then
He and she and neither and both
The smile the angel wore on her face
Maybe she was the devil in disguise
He ate from the tree of knowledge and he can't go back
Adam and Eve, Eve and Adam
Knowledge cast them from the garden of Eden
Tricked by a serpent
They say knowledge is power
They say ignorance is bliss
He was always fine before
He doesn't feel fine now that he knows
He could be something else, why not
A boy, a girl, a woman, a man
A person, a human
He, she, she, he
Look at that fag, he's too girly
What was all of it for if they were right
If he's a she, then who is he anymore
Are his memories his, or are they hers
Were they ever his in the first place
Was he ever real at all
Can she ever be real either
He, she
She, she, she, she, she, she
God makes no mistakes
But his entire life feels like a mistake
Could he be her
A woman, a man, neither, both
Can he choose, can she choose
Does he want that, does she want that
She, he
If he's her, who is she
Is she Kian Stone, is he someone else
She and he
Him and her
Adam and Eve, man and woman
Other, both, nothing, everything
Who would she even be
God makes no mistakes
So why did He make him?
25
A sinner sits on the steps of a church
A bottle of liquor in one hand
An almost burnt out cigarette in the other
Kian Stone takes a swig from the bottle
And to the quiet night
He whispers a happy birthday to himself
He traveled further from the city for the night
Took a bus to an unknown small town
That almost reminds him of home
She He sits on the steps to a church
He's running out of time
Twenty-five, it felt so far away
Twenty-five, his last chance to succeed
He's not even sure why
But he knows this is it
He gets a year more
To make himself into something
And that'll be the end
He has a year before his late twenties
A year before she's he's past his peak
A year before it'll be too late
Who wants a rockstar that starts out old
And if Kian Stone is not a rockstar
Then Kian Stone is nothing
Twenty-five, and what does he have
No career
Nothing to give him a purpose
No friends
He wonders if Rand will even remember to call
No partner
Nobody wants him for long
No home, no family, nothing
He has nothing, he is nothing
Just a sinner on the steps of a church
Drinking himself to an early grave
He still hasn't gotten a record deal
Becky still hasn't shown up
God still hasn't answered his prayers
She's He's just a failure
Waiting for someone to come tell him to leave
To say they don't want his kind around here
To threaten him with the wrath of a loving God
He wonders, can God see him now
Can He see the broken person He created
Breaking itself even further
He drops the cigarette to the ground
Flips off the beautiful starry sky
And she they he prays
That an all-knowing God can't see him right now.
26
Kian Stone wakes up in the morning
He can hear the birds singing outside
Can feel the sun shining through the window
It's a Sunday, a holy day
Were he a virtuous person
He might be going to church right now
But Kian is not a virtuous person
She He is the worst type of sinner
He awakes on his bed
In a pool of his own vomit
That consists of nothing but alcohol
And half digested pills
Kian wakes up
And he cries
It's not quiet, it's not subtle
It's disgusting, it's messy
Just like her him
He curses
Screams with what little energy he has
He can't even lift up his face from the mess he's made
Despite the horrible smell of acid and alcohol
He just lays there, and cries
He wasn't supposed to wake up
The sun is shining in their his eyes
It must be some kind of cruel trick
A sick joke from God
Kian Stone is still alive
But he shouldn't be
Because he is a sinner
A liar
A failure
Failed to even kill himself
He'd have an excuse
If at least she he could blame someone else
But he can't
Nobody came to save him
Nobody came looking
He's only alive because he failed to die
Or maybe God chose to keep him from death
Why
Didn't he do what he was supposed to
Didn't he finally try to fix his wrongs
Make up for the fact that he was ever alive
By finally taking himself out
He continues to cry
He just wants it to stop
The pain, the loneliness, the filth
That follows him everywhere he goes
That seeps into their his very being
He wants to get up
Wants to call an ambulance for himself
Wants to be taken to a hospital and taken care of
Wants to call Rand and tell him the truth
Wants to call Rolan and have him pick up
He wants, wants, wants
Too greedy, too needy, too clingy
Never satisfied with what he has
He's lucky to even be alive
He doesn't deserve to be alive
Why keep him alive
Why, why, why
Maybe it really is some sort of sick joke
Maybe God just thinks it's funny to watch him suffer
Maybe it is funny
He laughs, a hollow and broken sound
Mixed with sobs
Maybe it is funny
A faggot laying in his own vomit
Crying because they're he's too much of a failure
To even die properly
Maybe it's all a really funny joke
Or maybe he's just going insane
He looks to the empty pill bottle on his nightstand
Sitting next to carefully written suicide notes
And he continues to laugh
Maybe he already is insane.
27
Kian looks into a mirror
He stares at his reflection
And hates how right it feels
Hates how right she feels
As he stands, turns, spins
Freak, pervert, faggot
Tranny
He turns, watches his reflection do the same
The skirt she's wearing spins, poofs up
Before it settles back down again
He stares at her
She stares at him
It feels like a fight that he know he won't win
He looks at her skirt
It's simple, it's red
His favorite color
And hers by extension
It barely reaches her knees
He looks her in the eyes
She looks beautiful
She looks right
She looks like him
He hates it more than anything else
He ignores the tears in her eyes
He hates it
Hates it, hates it, hates it
But she loves it
Maybe he just hates her
He wants to ignore her
Wants to shove her to the back of his closet
Lock the door, forget she even exists
But he knows it doesn't work like that
He knows that's nothing but wishful thinking
He knows that lying to herself won't work for long
She wraps his arms around herself
Continues to ignore the tears in his eyes
He, she
She, he
Man, woman
Neither, both
Both
Both
Freak
She wants to scream
But he doesn't want to attract attention
And so he cries quietly
She, she, she
He repeats it again and again
Until it tastes like acid on his tongue.
28
He can try to pretend it doesn't matter
But it will always hurt when Kian wakes up alone
After spending the night with someone else
It's nothing new
By now she knows to expect it
But still, he wraps his arms around herself
And just for a moment
Imagines that it's someone else
That it's Becky
Who did come to him like she promised
That it's Rolan
Who Kian didn't end up driving away
That it's Rand
Who wouldn't hate him if he knew the truth
That it's anyone, anyone
Anyone who would care about her
And wouldn't only want him for a short moment
He knows it would never happen
Who would want them him for long
She's nothing but an abandoned temple
A building that was once a holy site
Now reduced to nothing more than a brothel
Where people visit for momentary pleasure
Where nobody cares about the workers within
Where with each passing day the building crumbles further
It's all he exists for
It's all she deserves
But still, sometimes
They He dreams of a world where that's not the case
Where someone would look past
The ruined mosaics
The crumbling statues
The shattered stained glass windows
And see something worth saving
They'd clear away the rubble on the ground
So nobody would hurt themself on it
They'd scrub away the blood staining the walls
And make sure no more of it was spilled
They'd water the gardens
Make the flowers and trees bloom again
They'd make him from nothing but ruins
Into something worth admiring
They'd offer aid to the workers within
Without expecting anything in return
They'd drive away those who'd want to hurt them
And make the place safe again
They'd decorate his halls with murals
And with soft pieces of furniture
They'd change her from a place of sin
Into a shelter, into a home
It's a nice thought
A secret wish they she will never admit out-loud
A dream that will never come true
But even so, he wraps his arms tighter around himself
And continues to imagine a world
Where someone would want to protect them.
29
How can Kian feel so lonely
Even in the middle of a crowd
In a room full of people
People like him
People who should understand her
How can he still feel so alone
Nothing changes
They're always alone
Whether he's a small, quiet child
Who everyone looks at with disgust
Or a weird, loud teen
Who people try to avoid
Or a failure of an adult
Who nobody cares about
He's always alone
She'll always be alone
Sitting in a table
With people on both sides of him
Laughing, drinking, smoking
He knows he's still an outsider
Different than them
Weird and off-putting
A freak nobody could love
Even here, surrounded by perverts and queers
Sinners and trannies
People who should be like him
She's still an outsider
Even under the bright lights
With the music blasting in their ears
While queens perform on stage
And lovers kiss on the dance floor
He's still unwanted
He's tolerated, accepted, allowed
But never wanted, never loved
The people around them
Wouldn't care if he disappeared
Wouldn't miss her if he left
Wouldn't mourn if they died
She takes a shot
It burns as it goes down his throat
Like holy water with a demon
Like hellfire with an angel
He knows he's not wanted
But at least if she's drunk enough
Being used doesn't feel too different
From being loved.
30
Kian stands inside a temple
That is supposed to be his new home
It may not be a temple or a church in the traditional sense
But she knows that it must be holy
The walls are a pure white
The floor light wood
And the large windows
Bring in the heavenly light of a sunset
Even if it was not meant to be this way
Kian knows that it is holy
They walk through the apartment
Each step leaving behind invisible stains
This high up he can't hear the sounds of the city below
It's peaceful, it's calm
And Kian knows his presence will ruin it
With each breath she takes
The air gets replaced with a toxic gas
As they go from pure room to pure room
Each clean, each perfect, each holy
She's too filthy for this place
He knows, he knows he doesn't deserve to be here
His existence within these walls
Is defiling this holy place
It's wrong
A demon making its home inside a church
Her presence will stain this place for the rest of time
Just like it does with everything else.
31
Kian misses Galloway
Even if he'll never admit it out loud
She misses the town he tried to escape for so long
The place they used to swear he'd never return to
Sitting in a lonely apartment
Filthied by his presence in it
And looking into a starless sky
He misses Galloway
He misses home
They miss the pastor
Who would whisper a prayer when he walked past
He misses the other kids
Who would punch him for looking at them wrong
He misses her parents
Even if he knows they don't miss him
He misses Jesse
And the fire he could light under his skin
They miss Dickman
Having even one guiding figure in her life
He misses Mrs Rand
Her gentle smiles and always open arms
Even when she was going through hell
He misses Becky
Spending their days writing songs together
Dreaming of a brighter future far away
Being wanted, being desired, being loved
He misses Rolan and Rand the most
There aren't enough words to explain
Just how badly she misses them
Skipping school to play D&D together
Watching shitty movies and laughing about them
Comforting them when things got tough
Being able to support them even when nobody else could
He misses them
He misses them more than anything
Misses feeling like he finally belonged somewhere
Like they could finally be cared about
Like maybe she didn't need to be alone
Kian misses them more than anything
More than he could ever explain
And he will never say it out loud
But Kian misses Galloway
Misses home
Misses feeling like they had a home.
32
When Kian Stone dies
Nobody is there to witness it
There are no disciples watching
Mourning his life, her death
No bystanders are present
To hurl insults at a false prophet
No mother cries at her son's feet
She does not beg for mercy for her child
There is only the crucified
And the one who betrayed them
Only Judas stands with Jesus
And soon they will both be gone as well
Nobody is there to see
Kian weeping for a life he never had
His tears made of blood
As red as wine
He wishes to scream, to cry to the heavens
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me
But he has no mouth to speak with
Nor lungs to draw in breath
Silently in his mind, he calls
He prays to a God he knows does not care
Even as no sound comes from his breaking body
A sacrificial lamb to the slaughter
A scapegoat to carry the sins of others
It breaks and unravels
Weeps and cries for its mother, its father
Its blood stains the wood behind
Drips to the grass below its feet
As its heart continues to beat
As it continues to live
Far beyond its own wishes
It prays, it prays
Oh God, Lord, Father
Please let my suffering end
But it does not receive a response
Nor does it receive relief
As it continues to break
A son of the Lord
Dying for nobody's sins but its own.
Rebirth
On a blood-filled night a prayer is heard
Not from the lips of a pastor
Nor from the mouth of a follower
Nor from the lungs of a believer
But from the corpse of a dead sinner
In the form of a pleading song
It plays like a cracked CD
Like an old and worn out recording
Like a swarm of insects
Repeating a church hymn in unison
It repeats, again and again
An unfamiliar prayer to a familiar God
The melody cracks and splinters
The lyrics spoken in a language almost like your own
So similar you swear you almost know the words
So familiar you can't help but try to make sense of them
They pull you in, pull you further
Further from the shore
Further from the safety of what is known
You listen closer, try to understand
You don't even notice you're wading in the water
Deeper, deeper, deeper still
Closer to a siren's song
Away from what you know to be right
Your clothes hang wet and heavy
Your skin is freezing, or at least you think it is
The deepest layer of hell is an icy wasteland
You'd prefer the lakes of fire over this
And yet you keep moving, keep listening
The buzzing of insects almost sounds like words
You're sure there's meaning within them
The spiderweb of flesh and blood almost looks like your friend
You're sure it's not too late to save him
His prayer sounds, again and again
A plea, a beg, a song
A melody as broken as him
It's shattered and nonsensical
It's so close to making sense
You repeat the lyrics back to him
They feel sacrilegious on your tongue
Yet you repeat them, again and again
Waiting for them to make sense
Waiting for the meaning to unscramble
You wade deeper and deeper into the icy depths
Even as the water fills your nose and mouth
All you hear is the prayer, the song
You sing it back, alongside him
Grasp for an explanation, grasp for a meaning
You reach your hand forward
You repeat the prayer, the melody, the broken words
Pleading for an answer
Begging for a response
And finally, you receive it
As his hand grasps yours in the cold.
