Owning It

Masculinity is a poison carrot. Many a boy want to ooze it, own it, beat it to submission. It’s a caged beast, feeding on violence and cruelty. It drowns nuance and sensitivity in caustic piss. It is a realm without mercy, a world built for only one.

To my shame, I want that fuckfest. My attraction betrays my history, my hurt, my totality. I find myself battling my aspiration to, respect for or even resembling any part of it.

As a child I stood out. I was kind, multifaceted, given to thinking first, sensitive to others. Ideal in so many ways, the makings of a good man. It just was not very boy like. Exactly what I needed to shore up the null.

Dangling so far out of reach it became stranger and hideously distorted. The exclusion made belonging all the more dire.

What maddening duality have we been…

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