We’re at war and have found ourselves knee deep in a sea of confusion wearing concrete slippers.
Our hope is that the water would cycle back to vapor
to provide us oxygen to survive because we’re knee deep.
In my trench lies the stench of many men gone missing.
Only leaving their sons Saint Nick sacks full of empty boxes with the inscription “Be a man” written in cursive, the dying art.
Catapulted into a war with what they feel could save them in an empty box inscribed with the words “Be a man.”
He has such confidence in his donor that he never thinks that he’s been duped but only that someone stole the contents.
He then told himself I must be the gift that God gave to women.
His genitals became his packaged gift.
The gifts he leaves are inscribed “STD.”
Our hope is that the water would cycle back to vapor to provide us oxygen to survive because we are drowning.