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
