I won’t be bullied into going that road.
It’s a slippery slope that i’ve slid down before:
You get what you want and i
Each pitch off the edge taking a bite from
My ego, My pride. My self.
Your look that says,
“Your ass is mine.”
With a sexual bent devoid of feeling,
As if those vile words are a gift
That i don’t deserve.
I know you think i like it.
You think my silence is some kind of benign acquiescence.
A deliberate surrender.
An affirmative capitulation to your exemplary manhood.
But it is anesthesia, pure and simple.
The somnolence of cultural propaganda
The paralyzing fear of loneliness and discord.
And your failure to see that tells me you are
To be trusted with neither my flesh
Nor my soul.
Your blind insistence that my ass is yours
Belies the truth that you are my ass:
The stubborn and id-driven
Who cares only for his own wants.
I’ve no need for a pack animal who refuses to carry
I am choosing not to be broken.
I am choosing not to be silent any longer.
I will be strong.
And true to me.
And your narcissistic self can
Kiss my ass in your mirror –
Which is the only place you’ll ever see it again.