I believe your souls were already compromised and rotten,
even then---in nineteen seventy.
I hope your full names have been cursed to be utterly forgotten
while mine shall survive attached to this poetry.
And, at your deaths, you may be shocked that your souls
are slammed down among the broiling worst of the damnables.
J-Called
Author's Notes/Comments:
I believe the epithet "Fairy Jerry" began with Andy and Randy, on Monday, February 3rd, 1969, when I wept openly after the death of Boris Karloff had been announced. Their mockery of my grief seems, even by fifth grade standards, to have been excessively cruel. The prejudice toward me that they inaugurated that day did not cease (with rare subsequent exceptions) in school until the end of tenth grade in June, 1974. The trauma of "Fairy Jerry" did not began to subside until BlueShift, whom I deeply loved and desired, helped me to receive God's gift of the handle, Starwatcher, which healed the wounds in my deepest identity.
