Sex & Art

These poems
are not poems.
I’ve grown tired
of
these sillhouettes of masculinity who
morph into warrior priestess spirits
on paper
as if to sprinkle depth
instead of digging deeper,
rifling through experiences unshared
in order to connect with an audience
he keeps behind glass.
They’ll never understand
what a glorious feeling it is
to let your art devour you
alive.

E.R.

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