November 30/30 #1

This is kinda all over the place

Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)

Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire