Volatility

Tawdry pickings shrieking masculinity in vain

I’m so tired of the low hanging fruit, the boringness, the gaslighting

Lips poisoned insidiously, captured by a dark light

How I’d love to sketch you so I can live in a putrid of my own hate

Self-hate override self-love

Since being disowned isn’t a novelty  

I search for black obsidian, common sense, pride, or even a fist

To hurl at you I would

But seemingly wealthy men with protruding bellies of privilege cackle in this group gathering

I can only gather spit in my mouth and aim with imprecision  

Mini mutinies ejected everywhere

A cackle, a gentle release of bottlenecked pain

Mercilessly I feel