Poem: Cunt!

"i'd rather call her a cunt"

I stick my pen into my pussy
fuck myself like you would wish
return with slick ink fingers, red

you’re spraying blood obnoxiously
pathetic lacking masculinity
with a gaping cavern blackhole head

you see these tits? these hips? these lips?
these horny, virgin, young doe eyes?
the siren call under your bed

I’m everything you crave to own
your veins seethe with bitter rage
you’d rather fuck me with me dead

my darling cunt, ready and loose
waits in the same shape as your noose
your feelings hurt by my dread

miracle! I let you get in close proximity
angel whisper grazing your crusty ear
I’ll tell you what god said:

you try to use language as a weapon
but you lack the skills to master it
you practice the shape of slurs on your tongue
as training wheel cheat codes for the simple-minded
your imagination only reaches as far as your porn history
I live as a religious icon on your altar
patron saint of all the things you want so bad
and all those things you’ll never have:

love.
intimacy, friendship, companionship, community.
confidence, wholeness, self-actualisation.
talent.
potential.
dignity.

i live in paradise behind the gates that lock you out
plush green, flush cheeks, sunkissed shoulders

inner and around me, peace
to be me is a privilege of bliss

and most of all.
i do not care.
you are a cockroach in my kitchen,
doing your most to be a nuisance
just in hopes of getting my attention.

your existence affirms to me my own perfection
a pleasant reminder of what I’m grateful I am not

what i am reminds you of what you’re not: happy
and your bitter isolation curdles into carnal loathing

you do not respect me,
but what infuriates you so terribly
is that I don’t care