A Queer in the life

Our sweet Ian, (((HUGS))) hon! 1year is no time and also ALL the time!!

Source: A Queer in the life


Help Wanted

I ask for help

I ask for exactly what I need

When I need it

The way I need it

I need help.

Take turns: scolding the need, mocking the need, ignoring the need.


The need grows even when ignored. Especially when ignored.

Feed me, Seymour, the need demands

The need grows larger, rounder, hungrier, louder.

The need distracts digests dissects decimates


It can’t have more than ten

I must have the other ninety

I have kids to feed, need.


You don’t get more than you deserve

No one does

You get what anyone gets, Bernie.*

Exactly what they deserve.

Nothing more or less or even or odd.

Just what you deserve.

I deserve.

Just desserts.

Pie à la mode.

But I’d like the pie heated, and I don’t want the ice cream on top. I want it on the side, and I’d like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it. If not, then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it’s real. If it’s out of the can, then nothing.**

 No, need. You cannot out-high-maintenance me. You don’t deserve it.


Copyright 2017 Shannon Cooper

*Quote from The Sandman graphic novel, Neil Gaiman, author.

**Quote from When Harry Met Sally, film. Nora Ephron, writer

Calling out passive-aggressive garbage


Someone who claimed to care deeply me did a thing which this person knew would upset me. This person did this thing on purpose.

It doesn’t matter what the action was.

What matters is that this person claimed I had no right to have negative emotions about this action.

You don’t get to do a thing that actively hurts a person emotionally, then claim ignorance, or worse, delegitimize that person’s emotions. Nope, nope, nope.

And you definitely don’t get to pretend you care about the hurt person, while actively, purposely hurting them.

That’s called behaving like a passive-aggressive shit. And also, like an immature, spoiled brat who has been calling all the shots in every relationship ever.

Inside information: I’ve been sitting on this post as a draft for about a month. The incident that precipitated this post has repeated itself with minor alterations every weekend since I drafted it. I must learn how to quit being this person’s Charlie Brown to their Lucy with the football.

Save Me

Save me break me need me lead me

You cannot see my eyes

You cannot see my cries

You cannot see these ties


Love me take me beat me reap me

You will not hear more lies

You will not hear more cries

You will not hear us fly


Trust me hear me see me feel me

I cannot share my fears

I cannot share my jeers

I cannot map these final steps of we three buccaneers


My map is hidden from you

Too profound for you to dig


This plan I cannot give you

Can’t believe you will forgive


My mind the tornado

Coordinates are lost


Directions to and fro are only

Obtained at my long cost


These open grounds a fireplace

Gas stove open floor plan ours


But I can’t give it up because

To you, not real, but sour


I can’t give you myself, my own self

To thine own be true

I’m making progress but til I land

Edinburgh due

I cast my lot, my chance, my heart

To my dear love I’m true

But please hear me see me feel me

My own love, all us, for you.

copyright 2017 Shannon Cooper

ETA: I received a heap of derision and criticism on this piece when it was first published. In response, I deleted it. Then I thought, nah, fuck that, nobody gets to tell ME what and how I write. Anway. Hope you enjoyed that tiny backstory.