A Love Letter to My Leader 💌

Photo by Andreas Fickl on Unsplash.

Elderly—

egotistical—

psychotic owner of a scrotum,

I and the millions call home.

Every single pinch

or quake from a kick—

a small price to pay to avoid castration—

or so we’re convinced.

Snuff, familicide, femicide

when stroking us up

to fantasies perverse.

Scorn, famine, flames

when pulling our world back and forth

to sultry whispers,

promising chances to fertilize

beauty into life.

Ooooh—

When our nut is busted—

We are millions spurted out—

stranded on a moldy rag

to dry up and dream of grandeur—

Not meant to be.

We are millions beholding a lie,

seeing the elderly owner of our sack

eye to eye

with another psychotic old man,

climaxing his millions

onto his very own crusty cum-stained rag.

A bitter truth—

It came too soon.