Behind Enemy Guys
is where you will find everything:
shame, hate, fear, and enough self-loathing
for several shame-filled and virulently homophobic and self-hating drinking games.
Behind enemy rhymes
is where I am sent every flame
that I don't want. Bitch. Put that away.
Why does this Merlionsman have to be the one to say
nobody wants to see your junk
unless you're putting your heart where your mouth is:
in a place where you insert my penis
because you actually truly do love me,
and actually do respect this
poem, which keeps going behind enemy eyes
to see the scummy trash that hide between
SO MUCH FUCKING BIG BOI TALK. Like a big swinging swaggering rock
of an ego will ever help you avoid the sweet terror of Death, when they arrive and ask
"Just what the fuck have you been doing with all your time?"
I'm lagging behind, always,
but not fun. Because this Dreamtiger comes in
second to none.
Capture the flag?
I'll use anything that works: handkerchief, rag
or even my own brown earth,
if that's what it takes
to show you what I'm worth.
Take me easy,
because I know all your secrets.
I know where it hurts
me.
I know what you want
to see.
I know where exactly to stand
in the rubble, the ashes,
and among the dirt.