Excuse

Dancing through the crowd Trying to pass through Grinding pumping, Follow his smouldering eyes... my stare locked! my hearts thumping To the beat of the music. Pulse is racing Im flowing to the beat Hips are swinging Surrounded by heat To the beat of the music His eyes pulling me to him, His moist pouting lips following dark green eyes, we meet, he takes hold of my hips. To the beat of the music Two bodies pressed close, touching, unbuttoning his shirt our

A poem that explores the gay scene and the lifestyle that seems to accompany it.

Frank had wanted to call my parents the next day, I however had pleaded with him to leave them to their romantic weekend. My reasoning of course wasn’t totally selfless, I wanted more time to think of a way to spin the situation, maybe convince Frank that my parents didn’t need to know. He had however insisted on letting someone in my family know, in case the police had gotten through to my parents, and they were worried. I knew they wouldn’t have, as I gave a fake number, but I wasn’t about to

“You best had have a good explanation for this!” Frank spoke or rather growled as he passed his glare over each of us. “I… but we…” I said looking for help, turning I noticed Jane had apparently lost her usual articulate voice, with swellings and cuts all over her face… she wasn’t the vivacious friend I knew and B! B was just kind of sat there… not really taking anything in, his head bandaged; I could barely look at him. “I got nothing” I finished looking down at an apparently very interestin

“Lukas?” I repeated her question. “I thought you were at work?” Jane asked, obviously not understanding why he was at this “party”. “No, I’m…” He started to reply as someone came through the back door. “Lukas, hurry up, I wanna…” Chris began as he entered the kitchen. Turning to see Jane and me, he became mute and just stared wide eyed at us. “Ok…. This is awkward.” I decided to try and break the silence. “Dude got any uppers?” the drunk guy from in the hall staggered into the kit

"Mom! Where are my jeans?" I hollered out. "Which ones?" "Never mind, found them!" I answered as I slipped a loose fit pair of CK jeans over my hips, just so a small amount of my boxer shorts were showing. Grabbing a white T, I ran down the stairs for the front door, grabbing my keys off the hall table. "Whoah! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Mom asked. “I want you to start looking at colleges, you graduate this year and you can never be too prepared!" "Jane, coffee, back for

As Brandon opened my bedroom door he leaned across the frame while glancing at the floor, a light smirk crossing his lips. My mouth went dry and all I could do was stare as he lifted his gaze to mine, his eyes ablaze. He slowly sauntered across the room and huskily breathed "Hey". "H- H- hi," I choked out, the blood rushing from my head elsewhere. As he loomed over me, the raw sexual energy emanating from him was making me dizzy. He's here, he's forgiven me. We just held our stare for minu

"Hey there." I smiled at Chris His demeanour was withdrawn, almost nervous, his head tilted downwards as if he were too nervous to look me in the eye. His gaze rose to meet mine. "Hey." he smiled back. He had such a cute smile, enhanced by the way his sweet lips curved to form a set of dimples. "You gonna let me in or not?" He asked. A gleam in his eye told me that he'd noticed that I'd been staring. To hide my embarrassment I pulled him into the house, wrapping my arms around him. H

"Morning, Dad," I mumbled stirring my cup of tea. "Good morning to you too, son. Late night?" Dad chuckled as he sipped his glass of OJ. "Guess you could say that..." I was still mumbling but I'd be fine after a cup. "I think we'll just run today then." Dad decided, thumbing through the paper. It was 7am on a Saturday, over summer vacation no less, and I, as always, was awake. This was normal and I was used to it; I was a morning person after all. However, after being awake until 4am

"Shit!" "Brett." "Shit Shit SHIT," I said, getting more emotional with each word. "BRETT! Calm down, please! It'll be fine." "How Jane? How's it gonna be fine?" "He was just shocked." "He was fucking disgusted, is what he was. I love Brand... I... I just..." I felt totally defeated. "I don't want him to hate me... I cant... I cant take him hating me.” When I stopped speaking I just sat there silently. Jane wrapped her arms around me and said, "Hun, I know he's upset, but he

Oh God, she knows! Should I deny it? She won't fall for it if I do, surely? Shit! What if she tells Brand? He'll definitely hate me. What if she... she must, or at least find me weird. I mean, how would you react to finding out your gay boyfriend fancies your bother? As I tried desperately to maintain my composure and look Jane in the eye, these thoughts raced through my mind. "Uh um," I stuttered out, "I.. I, erm, I'm just going to the bathroom." I managed to blurt out. Standing up abrupt

I walked down the stairs, after a long morning shower. I couldn't stop thinking about Jane, and more importantly Brandon; everywhere I looked there was a memory. From the staircase that all three of us had run up and down and played tag on as children, to the table in the centre of the entrance hall, which I’d cracked my head open on - now that was a memory. Brandon and I had been going through the wrestling phase, and somehow he’d flipped me, causing me to land head first into the corner of

The night of my Birthday, I lay in bed with the events of that day running through my mind. I’d never wanted to be gay nor truly accepted my sexuality, though I knew for sure that something was different when I was eight. Whilst Jane went off to some camp, possibly involving cheerleading, Brandon and I had been sent to football camp. The first realisation of my difference from normal boys came when Brandon decided that we couldn't say that we loved one another anymore. At the age of eight we’

Seventeen years! Seventeen long, confused, and altogether messed up years. That would be the best way that I could describe the journey that has been my life up until my seventeenth birthday. At seventeen you're supposedly meant to have the world at your feet, the future’s meant to seem bright, and hell I should probably be getting laid. Well, how very un-cliché my life is then. If life as a teenager is meant to feel like you're starting your life, why on earth do I feel like it’s all going t

"Seventeen years! Seventeen long, confused, and all together messed up years. That would be the best way that I could describe the journey that has been my life up until my seventeenth birthday." For Brett Moore, turning 17 isn't a happy time. He's trying to come to terms with the fact he'd much rather be with his girlfriend's twin brother. Accepting himself, and coming out seem a long way off, until of course its done for him.