I must be a cunt. The word prick doesn’t go far
enough
I must be a cunt. The word prick doesn’t go far
enough. Prick is soft. It doesn’t cut ya. I wanna talk about kind hearted women
& why I’ve always been too much of a pussyole to put a ring on it. Kind
hearted women remind you that men & women are in the same boat. We go after
twinkle discs only to be treated like shit. I’ve known some kind hearted women,
who if I were a man worth the name I woulda hooked up with. Sure there were
nights, but I was always beholden to the rice crispie so my friends/ my people would
approve. Men are cowards, they seek out the beautiful ones for proof of their
status. But the beautiful ones let you down & so in between relationships
you meet kind hearted women. But they’re hooked onto some flake & so you’re
a mate. Max hung up on the phone to me. She was upset I used the word cunt. But
prick doesn’t go hard enough. She’s a kind hearted woman. I don’t not pursue
her because of looks, I don’t because she’s so raw & I don’t want to get
lost in 6 hour conversations everyday. She’s pretty. But she’s heavy. Hence I
seek a ray of sunshine into my dark hours. But I know that the latter will let me down. Poets are
made to suffer for their muses. Max like me is a poet & so she suffers like
me. & kind hearted women are the sufferers, still they sustain. Not much of
a poem but just an acknowledgement that the women I battle with are not the
kind hearted varieties. They are victors not victims. & they prevail.
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.
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