Soul Shitter

 Gall. Your gall, it behooves me.

The mud of your own incandescence emits misery.

Shame rides high but hides poorly, you, smoked out of your comfy hole.

I would say "How dare you?" But I am aware of your dare.

Cultivating resentment for the recognition you assign to others

When the results you seek are theirs. Blech.

Shame too, as such a statuesque being could still, reconfigure his course

But no, not you, you clutch too closely, to the malignancy of your making.

Years of regard for you, discarded to the shitter.

What you really crave, I suspect, is to be slapped for all your smugness.

I used to desire time alone with you, to open and welcome the whole of your mind

The blowhole of your bitterness has replaced the idea of you and the muse in you.

You, my friend, scream silently of an urgency to be cracked. 

Cracked from the caked on lethargy that you alone, have slopped on thick. 

From rebellion to resignation, where did the gorgeous fire in you - go wrong?

For more than 20 years I contemplated that talk between us. How little I knew you.

Open your carcass wholly; expose the desiccant of regrets that you harbor

In exchange for some moisture, to lubricate and sweeten your soul.

You have been  a monolith of consideration in my life from the time we first met.

The intoxicating inhalation of the young you - I could not get enough of.

And your lack of risk for worthier outcomes has destroyed the man in you.

I have no interest anymore to engage you as you navigate your case through bared teeth

That shit gets old, repugnant, putrid. Your ping into the atmosphere is expiring

Lacking all effort which will lead to the eventual outcome of zilch.

To have loved you so long and unfortunately, long enough to see you rot

I debate within as to whether or not I should give a fuck about the status of our friendship.

Or perhaps I would be better off utilizing you as a powerful lump to launch off

Into greater positioning where I can claim that the "mercy" of your back has afforded me opportunity?

Your patronization of powerful females that keep their eyes on the prize, needs muting.

And for the record, that exceptional being that you so carefully continue to 'remind' me of

Would die a second time - if she knew of your willingness to use her tenderness to demean strength.

Until next time, fuck you. Your 'wolf in sheep's clothing' attire is grossly ill-fitting.