You said “be kind” to the ones who bruise,
Then hid your hands when the crowd lit the fuse.
Preach compassion from your stage of glass,
But silence hits harder than the past.

You said “hug the hate, don’t fight,”
While we bury names every night.
Your peace feels rich, mine costs breath
Your mercy sounds a lot like death.

Sue me
See you in court.
You can’t trademark truth or distort.
Sue me
Play your part.
But you can’t scrub blood from art.

You’re calm when it’s not your skin,
Talk reform while the walls close in.
White noise, white tears, same spin 
Love’s a word you keep locked in.

You wear grace like legal armor,
Sell the hurt back, just calmer.
Say “no hate,” then guard the door 
You’re the peace we can’t afford.

Sue me 
See you in court.
Mute the beat but not the report.
Sue me 
Make it short.
Truth survives your last retort.

Don’t say “we all make mistakes,”
When the cost is queer lives at stake.
Don’t call that love, it’s PR faith.
Your comfort’s built on someone’s grave.

Sue me 
See you in court.
Your kindness kills by quiet support.
Sue me 
Fall apart.
You can’t trademark a bleeding heart.

Sue me, QT

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available — human or machine — as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

Sue me, QT

Terminalose