here is a different kind of email i got, did i ever tell you that i think the poets who write a bunch of sentences that have no rhythm are frauds?

sitting alone at night, in the dark.
touching yourself because he won't touch you.
(call me what you will to label me the sick one, but i'm over the 3 ls. lust, leechhood, loneliness)
no. not you.
you are not good enough for him, not man enough.
(i am man enough to be my man, tis all that matters)
you never will be.
(you will never learn self-love or gender-identity, or the fact that they are one)
so instead you write and you write and you try to defame
(you write and write and try to defend)
the truth
(your errs)
the truth
(your errs)
the truth
(your errs)
we live on a spectrum of gay and straight
(people are people, so why should it be dudes and wives lust men so awful differently?)
you live on a spectrum of fear
(say it with me, madonna, "you're the one with the problem")
paxil?
i wonder why.
(okay, say it with me again, louder because this time you have reason to.) back



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