(what the hell is an incel)

the media portrays one loser outcast
as every man, as if man is one
big-*** monolithic hivemind
spewing their loser germs everywhere

think we got too much time on our hands
at the checkpoint, selfies on various
landmark celebrating the evil dead
as the hero for the living, graffiti

I look good in leather, also I look
lovely in the blood of my enemies
the hate a multifaceted gem
in the cavern of my  predatory eyes

Would love you to join me in the unit
the machine’s got to roll until Friday
and then we can hatch our evil scheme
man I think I have too much time
on my hands

i was beefing with another girl
in a two year old inconsistent blip
summer by summer, mad then silent
churning of the rapid water hourly

get nothing done at all, but fall into
a rotation without a darker cause
simply forgetting what it was
exactly that started it

whatever was curved
around the dusky breeze, bro
overtook the over the shoulder look
vortexes into a lazy bubbly whirl
in the lake we would hang out by

i’ll come around if you do
but we don’t talk
like we used to on the way
to the supermarket
but i’m on my way
to the “lost and free as i could be
me”

it’s as all i’m meant to be
supposes me, supposes you.

Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing

Moon glistens knowingly in the inky water
watching her pale body sink
the murmuring of night birds       woven
                               into hair of embers extinguished
sooty yet even soot is beautiful, to Moon.
eyes fixated on the navel of the pond
navel of the worlds' doings, of beginning of life & death
           a prayer escapes in the whisper of willow trees
into the arms of Night's gentle air.
           the pond itself is prayer, the water
giving life forth in Moon's embrace;

the woman glistens knowingly in the inky water-
eyes as steady as Moon's rays of borrowed light
              body, a temple of angles and soft circumference
glistening knowingly in the inky water
of Moon's embrace & the willow's whispers.

Let them speak
Then let them die
Let truth pour onto lips so dry
Let who be you
No wonder why
And close eyes, lifeless, no waking

No words said after
No lullaby
Post mortum tears in cloudy sky
As echoed truth
Takes creator’s life
To multiply, undertaking

Let teeth gnash
Let silent rage
Encompass those within the day
To pick up words
For which the slain
Found their souls, like eggshells, breaking

Another chapter
One of pain
New but rewritten, again and again
So that words spoken
From those long dead
Find new hosts for the taking