Avenge me, poetry!

I’m finally going to see The Avengers tonight. Joy. As a lifelong comic nerd I should be ecstatic. Still, the previews make it look so shitty. A twelve year old version of me wouldn’t be this cynical. Lately though, life has been bludgeoning me with the cudgel of depression fairly frequently. Cheer me up Marvel.

Sticky like
humans-get-when-they- have-fun-sticky.
That is what
the humidity
did to me,
alone in my room,
on my bed,
with my dick in hand,
and you in my head.


There was an emptiness
that often times I would
feel inside myself,
as a child.

Growing up, it did not visit
more frequently
nor less; but it did sharpen.

It sharpened due to people.


The term “true friend” tries
too hard. It’s trite. I don’t
know what it means and
neither do you, obviously.

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