STRAIGHT! UP! GAY!

— A love poem to the thick kings of queer desire —

Oh honey—

To the ones who spill over like moonlight on silk sheets,

soft like revolution, heavy like gospel,

you walk into a room and gravity flirts with you.

Not just a body—

but a cosmic event.

A belly like a planet,

hips that sway like prophecy,

a laugh like thunder wrapped in honey and glitter.

You are the fantasy they feared,

and the fetish they can’t stop worshipping.

Chubby. Chunky. Full-bodied fabulous.

You’re the plush velvet of a midnight crush,

the heat of August trapped in a bear hug.

Some call it excess—

we call it access:

To love without apology.

To thighs that demand attention.

To rolls that roll through their tired ideas of beauty.

Icons in harnesses,

in mesh crop tops and confidence,

shaking what God gave them—

and then some.

You’re the dom daddy with a gut and a growl,

the soft boy in pink lace,

the leather legend with curves and command.

You make room. You take space.

You turn stares into stans.

To every big gay boy who felt left out—

now you’re the main event.

You’re the feast in the famine.

The body they tried to erase,

now blown up on billboards in our hearts and hard drives.

This is your altar.

This is your anthem.

This is the ode to your flesh, your force, your flame.

Be fetish.

Be fantasy.

Be feral.

Be fat and flawless and f*cking iconic.

Because when you walk in,

desire doesn’t whisper—

it roars.