I liked quirky women
It was easier to breathe around them
Their irregularities gave me something to watch, whether it was entertaining or simply odd
The ones that fully embraced that quality were the most radiant
Looking at the them was almost the same as looking into the sun
They gave me insight as to what I was lacking
Embracing their warmth gave me balance
I gladly take the backseat to them to this day
My place is observing from the side
I like for my vanity to be silent
The only issue with them—women in general—is that they have a need for constant communication and affirmation and affection
In the beginning, it’s more tolerable because everything is new and exciting
Then comes the inevitable: I get tired
Their quirks have become predictable, and their conversations dull
One week I’m deeply infatuated, then after the experiment becomes a process, the next couple weeks drag by with each day seeming to last years
That’s when I withdraw
Phasing out of a fifty year long commitment of love and charity, like the coward I am, then drifting back to the safety of solitude until the cycle repeats itself
I’m a dog
I’m a loner
One of these days I’ll have to pick one
But it won’t be today, and certainly not tomorrow

Sometime.

After a satisfying fried catfish
dinner with collards and a sweet potato
I went for a stroll in the nearby plaza
I entered the Publix with a sweet treat
on my mind
And there I saw the watermelon woman
that made my mouth water instead
She was cutting up samples to be
passed out while wearing a sliced
watermelon costume
Long black hair rested on one of her shoulders
A small scar on the side of her mouth
was noticeable, but it was completely
overshadowed by her gaze
Our eyes met, and I was locked in
I smiled softly in reaction to the silliness
of the dichotomy between the woman
and the watermelon
A pineapple would've suited her much better
She responded to me by giving her own
slightly nervous smile
She offered me a sample, which I took
then she began to speak to me with her
chin pointed down towards the table
Her eyes never broke contact with mine
"They're two for one today. Really good too.
You should buy some."
"Have you tried it?"
"No, but I can tell. I can smell it."
How I'd love to try her out
Her body language said that she
was self-conscious, insecure
Yet her eyes told me that she was a lioness
ready to be dominated
I left the store empty handed
A missed opportunity on my part
It's been a while since I've done any farm work
but if I see the watermelon woman again
I'll plant seeds

Trying to keep up with a woman’s mood is to catch lightning with your bare hands
Even if a man were to make that godly catch, his hands would have melted away before he could celebrate with the migraine
You will never see me outside in the stormy night

Man is to God
as Walt Disney is to
Micky Mouse
We’re all disillusioned with reality

Standing there... drenched in a forgotten angel’s cold sweat
My mind went blank... and then I uttered the most important words of my life

Omelette du fromage

Everything hurts more in the cold
The sting from vibrations of the baseball bat when the ball meets the shallow metal
The aching joints in every ugly, abused finger
The wind slapping the face of every poor man in his pursuit of shelter
The lonely nights spent in the bedroom, with a sock in hand, imagining the warmth of a woman
The curve of every shot thrown at a cloud ruthlessly passing by
The memory of the tears she shed when I told her goodbye
Everything hurts more in the cold

I’ve always found it odd when people avoid eye contact
What exactly is it that they are hiding?
Or is it fear?
The all-consuming Mr. Walker going around breaking through windows and damning souls!
There are numerous platforms for people to interact with one another
But somewhere down the line the connection was lost, forgotten
I sometimes wonder how our species will continue to flourish
The young men of tomorrow
will rather rub one out to a hologram e-**** on their iPhone XXVI than pursue a ripe Jenny up the street
Her organs must be aching to be rearranged
The poor *******
Yeah, sometimes I wonder
Then I swipe right
   Right
                   Left            and
            
Right
I’m going to find someone in my area to get my **** wet

The eggshell was crushed by the vibrations of thoughtless honesty


The yolk spills out pathetically and flows over its broken barrier


The egg will never regain its shape

I don't care much for titles or trophies
I've never been one to reminisce over
past accomplishments
I only want to destroy the spirit of
the man before me
I will only be satisfied with victory
when I feel his grit wither away
When his sense of self is lost
I will have found myself again
Nietzsche is smiling at me from his cave

Boredom is the number one adversary
for a man's well-being
Even before the alcohol
                             coke
                             heron
                             ******
                             ******
                             gambling
                             and good women
The Morning Star only challenged god
because Heaven was uneventful
He was well ahead of his time
A perfect world can only exist when
there's an opposing force
Even the mice know that

Sitting down
Investigating the dimmed glow of my golden soul
A hint of apathy darkened my mind and caused my psyche to cease to grow
Maybe it was because of all the weight that I agreed to hold
In order to further expand the frame of my enlightened mind
I delve into the depths of my thousands of manifested sides
Leaving my mark through those that I connect with
Mortality and eternity coincide

Ugly men had it easy
Women would just assume that they had
to have something going on for them
in order to atone for their misaligned eyes,
the crooked teeth, or the superabundance of fat
that has his arteries pleading for a mercy ****
from the next Baconator Cheeseburger that
rapes his intestinal tract
Fate just couldn't be so cruel
                  So a phenomenon takes place:

The Dramatization Of The Ugly Man's Qualities

His jokes are funnier, puns punnier, and his
presence is larger
He is the man among men
The ugly man is god
As long as he can support a woman's habits that is.....

I have been lost in a cloud once
                Twice
In my life
When you’re seduced by a cloud, you really have no idea where you’re going
One moment you’re westbound to California
Then the next thing you know, you’re upside down flying over one of those jihadist countries
Delayed ejection
It’s funny how something so soft and subtle can be so dangerous for a man’s wellbeing
Not “ha ha” funny, of course
I lost a lot of sleep over that *****

The continued repression
      of the id's desired pleasure
Will lead to the death
      of some poor *******

The embodiment of the sun is a woman
Her hair like Rapunzel
Long, and a beautiful golden blonde
Her spirit was dragged through mud by the rabble
but when it rose again through the Will of Grace
it shined as though it had never been tested
She carries herself with pride, which resonates
with me
Even when her conversation turns crude, and she
bellows and burps:
she maintains her class and loveliness
Daisies grow in the wake of her steps
She is the embodiment of the sun
and I have become pious

You are who you are
until someone expects you to act how they perceive you to be
one hundred percent of the time

Sometimes it’s hard to tell which one is the actual dream
Whether it’s the mind that’s open
Or the eyes
There’s tribulation
Everything is easier that way
When you’re constantly under fire, things tend to resolve themselves
All you have to do is maintain

Personality is few and far in between nowadays
The same star-shaped sugar cookie cut into tens of thousands, millions
Baked in a nice, cozy oven
350 degrees... eight to ten minutes per batch
Sprinkles, cinnamon, lemon zest
The works
Sheltered in a well stocked cupboard
They sell out almost immediately after they’re put on display
Only to be devoured by the malnourished
(If you take the cookie too early, you’ll get sent to the pokey)
I could never eat them
Sugar cookies taste like ****

As a man
Working with your hands is the most rewarding feeling one can know
I enjoyed building fences with the crackheads
Tearing the door frames off of a worn down trailer home in the boonies
Even washing dishes with the Mexicans and reformed jailbirds
I took my pitiful wages with pride because they were earned through these hands
The frats—effeminate men—and women never seemed to understand
Everyone says to do what makes you happy until what makes you happy doesn’t afford you a Bentley
Then all of a sudden
You
       Aren’t
                   Doing
                              ****.
Your ambition is called into question

I
      Kissed
A
      Gay girl

She didn’t like it
I can’t stand fence sitters

I went all day without speaking to her
And I drank Cabernet by the bottle
and admired the artwork put on display
Walking, observing, feeling an undeserved
sense of soundness
There was one painting that I was particularly fond of
It was entitled "The Embrace"
A faceless man in black and blue was pursuing a faceless
woman in pink and white
She shied away from him
She was too bashful
One blue arm attempted to comfort her
from the world as she knew
Or maybe from the uncertainties of the world
that he imposed onto her
Bloomed century plants envelop her completely
And I stood there and pondered and drank more wine
Then I thought,
"She's going to become nonexistent
               just after becoming so beautiful."
And I took another sip of my drink
The only thing that existed in that moment were
the paintings on the walls, the wine in my belly, and the
associates that I went to the art show with
For those hours that I was there, I was separated from reality
Multiple calls were made soon after I returned to squadron
Multiple calls were ignored
I knew that I was in the wrong
So I kept making attempts to reach her
from a thousand miles away
making myself look like an *** in the process
It wasn't until the next morning that she contacted me
All of her texts were short, dry, and cold
I could tell that she was hurt
So I called again, this time I could hear her voice
"You're just an *******. You don't even care."
I listen
My stomached churned slightly from the guilt
of knowing that she's not entirely wrong
I could be so much better, but it's hard to fight against
vices ingrained in your core
Like instincts of self preservation
Like fear
Although I'm not always successful, I still try
She resists me for a little while then succumbs
to the pull of my world
Then I remember the painting
And I understood

We are all that one another has in the world
The confines of this comfortable hole is his universe
He is my home
Amber eyes whisper serenity
His head bowed slightly as he waits for my embrace
The friction between us creates a static charge
But we do not mind
I kiss his shoulder and hold him close
Soft purrs echo soothing vibrations until it becomes too much
Then he bites my hand to run off and find peace within himself

The winged man
Perches on the most comfortable branch
And waits to bathe
In the light of a newfound path