Ah the euphonious din of you!
Muscles unentwined and unspooled and untied and untangled and un-un-unheard!
Do not surround yourself with morons
Do not feel you need forty friends, a retinue, an entourage, a symphony of yesses and noses upon noses, I’d rather forego that for you, if I could
I rather the walks alone
Under the moon alone
We die alone
But there is something so earnest in her!
Something so hardworking about her, so unegoed about her
Something so handsome and masculine about her
Something that subverts beauty in her
And it is left that a maternal shaped silhouette bristles there and you see that that is where the real power is, there