From the Rooms of the Prom Queen by Joseph Mayo Wristen
I was there with the young men who danced to OZ. I filled the room with my expectations, creamed the walls with my visions while applauding their rebelliousness.
They would watch me as I walked through the door with my lovely whore by my side. They would follow me home.
It did not bother me that they knew where I lived or that they knew how I made my living.
It did not seem to bother them. And I believe they loved me.
I had always felt that they would be there when the time for the rebellion arrived. And so I showed them the same respect I would have shown any other soldier.
Now lying there with their disease on white bed sheets under a red cross, they are being killed by a society that could never have understood their dreams. Somehow the secret of their crucifixion was kept from us, and a great army was never given the chance to have their war.
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