Frustration: (Enter Stage Left)

I’m gonna give it up,
because, “I likes you”, but…
I don’t . I love the
things that you, could do, to me:
but-won’t. There’s not
enough, (of you), to come
around my (back-ward,
dirt-road, no-excuse-for-a)

Upon the knee
of optimism: “it’s
more colourful
than I thought”…
these township roads
and sticks (and stones)-
Ive never known,
as home. (I think…
far too much). Is it bravado,
veiled by modesty? Is there a
cock-sure swagger, that
is masked by your humility?
I suppose (I’m old enough)
to be…your-older sister-
distant cousin-
“Would that make me
more appealing?”…says
the viper, deep inside
of me. Or is this just an
insight to my shallow,
pert, inadequacies;
I will twist it up, turn,
bend, and push, the facts
around, until justification
suits me. And
I’ll beg you,
(not) to drop-kick, (dead
and broken) bits of confidence.
Or is it really arrogance-
(In disguise?)…My self- esteem,
is waning; (almost) injured…
calling out the hostile
serpent, (still residing-
far too comfortably),
in me. Cradled in rage, (and
venom)-it hisses, spits,
and speaks, “(small
boy), this must be
second nature to a
self proclaimed, man-
whore….”, (is a word,
that I’ve heard before).

Yet, I can’t deny, the
fact that I gyrate-I
salivate, with every thought,
about you. (And yes), I
guess I’d share you, just to
taste your sweet perversions.
I’ll take you, at your
leisure, work, or peak
(of) desperation…

and persistence, have
not left my side,



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