Nonverbal Hate Text

One believes it’s the woman’s fault,
she loves men the way Rammstein loves young lambs.
But I think love is harsh and punishing,
it’s only found where babies suck on fingers.

All those who desire men
flush their insides in front of a strange man
who could caress them tenderly,
like their father.
But their father can’t care less,
and it would be incest.

Patriarchy taught him to be casual,
recklessly inserting his noodle into the channel of causality.
Why am I only a noodle when a baby comes out of me?

I’ve tried so many cocks, and they all tasted like daddy issues—
inaccessible, emotionless, supposedly queer people.
So, I’m the problem, right?
Can I play my bisexuality card?

I, too, am just a tide of coming and going.

There have never been so many moralists. Conformists. Pseudo-queers. Anarchists. Misanthropists. Narcissists. And potential lovers. Yes, I’ve seen it.
I’m drawn to people who reject me. The reason? The dissolution of that: love.
But there’s a child, and it just wants to be seen.
Maybe all the daddies were missing, and penetration is no longer the answer.
I wish you could wrap yourself in the cloak of security you need to feel safe in society.
You grew up late.