APPETITE
What are we feeding these kids?
As a boy I remember hearing this from elders, waiting for the age youth would crave attention.
As a youngin’ I repeated the statement when I saw a girl built to be stuck, poked, roughed up. A gentle letdown is what they hoped for. On soft sheets making them feel special. Heels against my ears so I could hear how they felt.
I thought that made me a Man, so I moved on, carrying baggage home. Unlocking danger. Not realizing I carried the mentality of a warning. A danger zone. Always a friendly entry, though my plans were to be a menace.
Women are experts too. Seeds seduced. Sucked and tucked for later. Futures gifted to perfumed hunters who wrap age between long legs- when opened-they’re like bodies basking, drinking, and draining wild sons of their youth.
I had a crackhead tell me ptsd was the real gateway drug. The only pipe she liked now was fire and sent shivers through her chest and lungs.
As a father I can never fall so hard where I keep my head and eyes lowered as kids abandon morals.
