HORNED ANIMALS

Though I’m here, it doesn’t matter that I write my poems nakedly. It doesn’t matter AT ALL. Even WHEN amplified, it appears my style resonates with NO ONE.. Sure, sure… I’ll get an eye here… heart there, and- MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO MISTAKE -this is not even about THAT. This is about connection. I KNOW I am NOT the only one, that I do not exist in this particular manner alone; there ARE others who are… mm… horned. Yes. Call us “horned”. Be it one or two… horned. And the horn is our weapon, used to maim, but more frequently, to protect. Because we have hearts in need of protection as they are open, sympathetic, empathetic, understanding… hearts that HAVE been there. Sometimes, but of course, we use them for brutality and, SOMETIMES- ADMITTEDLY -that usage and that violence feels, to me, like home. Like my horn and I were designed for no other purpose than to simply disassemble, to annihilate, others. With words, surely, I WILL EVISCERATE. Naturally, there is someone out there who is “bigger and badder” than I, BUT, STILL, I CAN HURT YOU. I don’t want to hurt you. I plead with you, do trust me, I do not WANT to hurt you. Don’t corral me. DO NOT CORNER ME. You don’t have to accept me. But, I do require respect. If you like my work based on superficial, vapid motives… Nahh. Move on. If you listen based on true identification, sincere connection…? Yes:), kindred spirit, I will shiningly call you ‘friend’. Because misery loves company, selfishly or not… And because certain animals can smell the SICK and we tend to run in packs. If you are lone and that fact is a detriment to you, I’m here. Just know… I identify. I connect.