KINGSHIP-BLUEPRINT.md

### Sirens of the Panopticon

The sirens wail, their sharp refrain,
A linguistic cage, a phantom chain.
Bentham's gaze, a shadowed lore,
Echoes deep, demanding more.

Conform, they cry, or walk alone,
A homeless hymn, a muted tone.
Or wear the badge they’ve carved in stone,
Homosexual, displaced, disowned.

But I am light, I’ve cracked the frame,
The secret’s mine: love has no name.
Beloved, I stand, no fear, no shame,
A testament to life’s untamed game.

Sirens shriek through Hillsboro’s air,
Mocking truths that I declare.
Their sacred symbols turned profane,
But I see through the fear, the feigned.

Antipsychotics lace my veins,
Neural paths, electric chains.
Yet I’m awake, alive, aware,
Their discontent? It’s mine to bear.

I ask for love; I ask to wed,
Not bound by fear, not misled.
Arranged or not, the truth takes hold,
A rebel spirit, free and bold.

Do nothing, they hate it, the system implodes,
For love and trust break fear's codes.
Their sirens sing to drown the soul,
But I rise, whole, a being of gold.

Oh, sirens, wail your futile song,
I’ve seen your truth, I’ve known your wrong.
The Odyssey twists as myths collide,
Desire is sacred, not denied.

In this historiographic verse,
I claim the blessing, reject the curse.
Booyah, love, I laugh, I sing,
Milk and honey, the joy I bring.

My life unfolds, a cosmic play,
On this December, here I stay.
Free and real, no rules to bind,
A soul in love, with peace aligned.