#Top100Lies #poem


Queer Is...

     (from 100 to 1:)

I'll call you.
I'm not angry.
I'm not upset you unfriended me on Facebook.
It happens all the time.
Sorry, that was my last one.
We care.
We'll have to do this again.
We're listening.
You don't have to repay me.
You're the best.
Your baby is so adorable!
I'm not the daddy.
I have nothing to wear.
I haven't had plastic surgery.
I'm a professional model/actor/singer/dancer/author/personality.
I'm Batman.
I'm not a fag.
I'm not wearing a bit of make-up.
My breasts are real.
My drinking is under control.
The worst thing is to be ugly.
You're not at all paranoid.
Your hair looks super-awesome in the back.
I achieved success entirely by myself.
I need two dollars for a bus to visit my Grandma.
I don't have two dollars to give you.
I'm not political.
My great-grandma was a Cherokee princess.
My sins were washed clean, hallelujah!
Poor people steal the most.
Slavery is over.
I can say that since my best friend's Black.
There will be no retaliation.
We're not hiring.
Wealth trickles down.
He's just a friend.
I can go all night.
I don't normally do this.
I only practice safe sex.
OMG, it's SO big.
Size doesn't matter to me.
Men aren't all about sex.
Women aren't all about sex.
The sex was consensual.
This is my first time.
Touch yourself and you'll go blind.
This will never happen again.
I can't live without you.
I could never hurt you.
I'll never leave.
I'm over my ex.
It's not you, it's me.
She's my soulmate.
Until death do us part.
We're still friends.
I twice won the House Cup for Gryffindor.
I've never read Harry Potter.
Check out Voldemort's nose-ring in the last movie.
Don't bring a thing but yourself.
I didn't eat your chocolate bar.
I'm a vegetarian.
I'm into broccoli.
You're a great cook.
I love eating breakfast food for dinner, every day.
I'll join WeightWatchers. Monday.
No homework.
A discrete Self exists.
A discrete Santa exists.
Go forth and multiply.
A tiger's penis keeps yours hard all night.
It's a miracle!
God made it so.
You can take it with you.
No way.
You must.
You're welcome.
Speaking honestly...
I can't.
I don't know.
I mean it this time.
I wasn't informed.
I'm serious.
It's your fault.
I love you.

S.D. Mullaney is a poet living in Jamaica Plain, MA, whose previous works have appeared in Anomalous, Hanging Loose, Pemmican, Hoi Polloi, Breakwater Review and the New York Review. Mullaney works at Mass College of Art and Design and UMass Boston, and he spends far too much time writing and re-writing his second collection of poetry.