Crackle

I rise in the pre-dawn hour before the faintest light
the darkness brings strange shapes to familiar forms
and I am the stranger in this town
Sewers run atop the streets and roads unseen
the crass reminders of unequal distribution and
entrenched power
I can rail against this shit all day
the misogyny and racism, the transphobia and hate
but I’m preaching to the converted
or the vulnerable
and I want to fuck you or just hold you close
Shimmering violence decades renounced
but words have power too
the trees find monstrous forms in the gloom
I will not be a part of this romance
I cannot ever take that chance
I will scream, I will defy, I will do anything I can
but I am impotent against the world
Like a cock-soft motherfucker with delusions of porn
and the worship of war
seeing people as either enemies or potential non-consensual
fuckmates — and I want no part of either
and unable to discern between the two
It’s all exquisite taste and fucking lies
Writhing in shit and bile
And rape and violence and macho insecurity
I want for nothing in the pre-dawn hour
One foot follows another
This is what I do
I walk
I tread
The soles of my shoes wear thin in endless steps
I think of you and how I would like to
Hold you/fuck you/cry into your breast
Laugh at myself
Laugh
La fin

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