beautiful women are a big problem.
it was a normal morning then she entered the room, breaking my eggshell skull and the dirty yolk is staining my clothes and I can’t clean it off.
I’m sticky and I can’t clean it up I need a shower.
but she’s still there, drinking coffee, walking all over whatever else was in my brain.
nobody can unsee beauty.
I pull up the paper to hide and it makes it worse knowing she’s there.
being male is exile on an island called desire.
i’m a prisoner
and a pet
im on the reservation, im on the plantation. I’m dead Andrew Jackson, I’m traitor Jefferson Davis. I’m conflicted. I’m liberated. I’m enslaved.