Homophobia Is Gay Just Like Frerard
Stained
“Get the fuck off him!” I growled. I hated that man, if that’s hat you could call him. He is a pathetic excuse of a living creature.
I staggered over to them. My cowering brother, who’d never seen his father like this. I’d seen it to much. My boyfriend that was too drunk to stand and had sweet blood pour and trickle down his face staining his clothes. The man that I am despicably related to. I picked up nearly empty bottle of the table. I smashed it my hand. I didn’t care about my body. The vile body I’m supposed to be happy with. The sting of blood only made me smile more. I put the bloody glass to that man’s neck.
“You don’t wanna get aids from a lil’ faggot? So go!” I spat in his face. The glass was scratching his neck. I went to pull away, but the drink made me stumble. The glass created a cut on the cunt’s neck. It was though, too small to do any major damage, unfortunately.
“Eurgh, Fuck! I’ll got your faggy-aids!” He shouted at me, grabbing it cut neck. The homophobic prick. So quick to guess all fag’s have aid.
I stormed out of the room. I dropped to my knees and crawled over to my cowering best friends. Mikey looked shocked. He had never seen his father like this. Neither had Frank. I had, too many times. I held Frankies frame in my arms. And put my hand on Mikey’s.
“Gerard, your hand is all cut up,” Mikey whispered, not wanting to break the science, but felt that my hand deserved to be clean. But I’ll never be clean. Clean from drugs. Clean from the shame I bring to everyone. Clean from the stain that never comes off he sheets. The blood on my hands only represents what I want to do to my fucking father. And like Lady Macbeth, my hands will never be clean. There will always be a spot of blood.
“Gee, sweetie, your hand looks...”
“Shut up, its fine!” Shit that was too harsh{/i] I felt Frankie flinch and try to pull away. “I'm sorry. I'm just annoyed at him. How could he do that to you? You beautiful perfect amazing boyfriend. I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Gee, I meant those things I said. He’s a wonderful man, that makes me feel so special… I would have continued saying that I love y – ”
“Don’t. Frank, you are so much better than me. You can have so much in life. You don’t want me.”
“I do! And I don’t want any better. I want his.” He sat up and kissed my lips, softly and tenderly. I didn’t kiss back. Believe me, I wanted to. I just couldn’t. He’d be better of me. He pulled away. “Gee...”
I could taste his blood on my lips from his split on. That my father did to him. Because he knew me. It was my fault. One day he’d see he was better of with out me. “Please, you’ll understand one day.”
His face, bloodied was become tear stained as well. I forced my eyes shut. Silence as he tried to comprehend what I was saying. Hoping he was wrong. I leaned against the couch, despair taking over as I matched his tears.
“It’s over,” I don’t want it to be. I love so fucking much. You complete me. You are everything I need, but you don’t need me. A fucked up fag. One that is gonna drag you down. Frankie, I love you!
I staggered over to them. My cowering brother, who’d never seen his father like this. I’d seen it to much. My boyfriend that was too drunk to stand and had sweet blood pour and trickle down his face staining his clothes. The man that I am despicably related to. I picked up nearly empty bottle of the table. I smashed it my hand. I didn’t care about my body. The vile body I’m supposed to be happy with. The sting of blood only made me smile more. I put the bloody glass to that man’s neck.
“You don’t wanna get aids from a lil’ faggot? So go!” I spat in his face. The glass was scratching his neck. I went to pull away, but the drink made me stumble. The glass created a cut on the cunt’s neck. It was though, too small to do any major damage, unfortunately.
“Eurgh, Fuck! I’ll got your faggy-aids!” He shouted at me, grabbing it cut neck. The homophobic prick. So quick to guess all fag’s have aid.
I stormed out of the room. I dropped to my knees and crawled over to my cowering best friends. Mikey looked shocked. He had never seen his father like this. Neither had Frank. I had, too many times. I held Frankies frame in my arms. And put my hand on Mikey’s.
“Gerard, your hand is all cut up,” Mikey whispered, not wanting to break the science, but felt that my hand deserved to be clean. But I’ll never be clean. Clean from drugs. Clean from the shame I bring to everyone. Clean from the stain that never comes off he sheets. The blood on my hands only represents what I want to do to my fucking father. And like Lady Macbeth, my hands will never be clean. There will always be a spot of blood.
“Gee, sweetie, your hand looks...”
“Shut up, its fine!” Shit that was too harsh{/i] I felt Frankie flinch and try to pull away. “I'm sorry. I'm just annoyed at him. How could he do that to you? You beautiful perfect amazing boyfriend. I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Gee, I meant those things I said. He’s a wonderful man, that makes me feel so special… I would have continued saying that I love y – ”
“Don’t. Frank, you are so much better than me. You can have so much in life. You don’t want me.”
“I do! And I don’t want any better. I want his.” He sat up and kissed my lips, softly and tenderly. I didn’t kiss back. Believe me, I wanted to. I just couldn’t. He’d be better of me. He pulled away. “Gee...”
I could taste his blood on my lips from his split on. That my father did to him. Because he knew me. It was my fault. One day he’d see he was better of with out me. “Please, you’ll understand one day.”
His face, bloodied was become tear stained as well. I forced my eyes shut. Silence as he tried to comprehend what I was saying. Hoping he was wrong. I leaned against the couch, despair taking over as I matched his tears.
“It’s over,” I don’t want it to be. I love so fucking much. You complete me. You are everything I need, but you don’t need me. A fucked up fag. One that is gonna drag you down. Frankie, I love you!