If women were a matchbook men wouldn’t know the difference
We throw them away
when the fires gone.
I do not say this light heartedly,
or to be mean,
or cruel, or hurtful,
but by reflecting on my own actions,those around me I’ve encountered,
and the countless women’s poetry i’m unnaturally addicted to reading
rolling over in my mind.
if they herded the horrible like cattle
i’d be mooing with the bunch.
so burn me in your fires,
drown me in your waters,
I swear to god i’m through with no.9
still I swim against the current
my father and so many before had succumbed to.
my sexuality is a sickness that writhes in me.