It's me or the monster, who makes the first move.
I must tame this unruly beast, this winter coat.
Yet with a blade this rusty, the supermarket will be out of band aids by the time i'm
through with this pale, pudgy, political mess.
The now *****, steamed pools of chemical filled culture, swirling down my drain,
trapped on dry edges. I watch in utter disgust as a shade of ruby follows, descending to
the pits of anti-feminist hell.

Shaving's a *****!