I’d never, ever hurt a lady but I’d be happy to punch a feminist.
It’d bring me great joy.
I’m 6’2 and weigh 180lbs
ready when you are
Or if you’d like to have some more options….
and have 9 years of combined martial arts training and 3 years of being a Line Backer in football.
Just in case you are looking for variety.
what about a lady and a feminist. warning, combatives certified soldier.
Some nights, I’m desperate enough to consider
divination, prayer, superstition.
So great is my anxiety of being alone,
abandoned, forgotten, left behind, ignored, unloved,
unwanted, undesired, unconsidered, and irrelevant.
The truth is that I’m all of those things to the great majority of humanity.
How can I lie to myself and call myself valuable?
How can I lie to myself and call myself significant?
When I know that I’m not?
How can I have so much love
for so many
and have so little left for myself?
How can I go on like this?
Because I know no other way.
I do not want to be forgotten.
I want to matter.
I want to be loved.
What the fuck do I have to do?
11:18 PM, September 26th, 2014
I remember cigarettes lit in the dim lights of a graying city’s alleyways by young souls desperately trying to find meaning in their own limited mortality.
I remember rainfall on a summer afternoon. We ran through the streets like we were children again. Laughing, soaked from our heads to our toes - all the way though our clothes.
I remember clear nights spent on rooftops, gazing at the stars that shone despite the city lights. Dust and grime at our fingertips, pollution and thick humid air in our lungs, but still we dreamed of far off things.
I remember nights that made life worth living and days that made it hard. Sometimes the other way around, but not often enough.
I remember kissing by that clouded, foggy river. And losing my virginity not too terribly far from there. Everything seemed so possible, so impossible. That hasn’t really changed.
I remember faces that no longer grace that place, and feet that no longer wander there. I find myself so often accompanied by ghosts and specters of younger days. They so often suffocate my hope for change.