The Man

Conceived in the womb of rustic Earth, in cradles of cemented cobbled streets. Sculpted body arched cuts carved out pangs of hunger,  an old man who was never there, hollow eyes searching in rubble and dust to foresee a clueless future, bulging muscles fed on charades of abuses, molded of violated sexuality on menacing highways …

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Transformation

I’ve lived multiple lives, surviving to live as a man,   Million little moments sabotaged to feel as grandiose as a man.   Countless nights sacrificing  cotton fluff like yearnings to please what became of  that man.    Marring those ardent desires in whose rustic Earthen wombs  human hope  is conceived.    Patiently waiting, ogling …