I’m in the male-gaze stage of the relapse. I’m four months back on the wagon, and I need to get my thrills somehow because newsflash: early recovery sucks. So here’s a poem inspired by my latest situationship, because dating a man truly is a humiliation ritual, especially if you date the type I go for. But they sure do make great muses.
HOLY SMOKES
“This is religious”
he said kissing me down from hip to thigh
and the feeling was insidious:
since I no longer have heroin to get high
I just had to make-do with that guy
He’s got this hyper masculinity
joe rogan gym bro mansplaining type of shit
all this toxic virility
yet enough testosterone to fuck me properly
he just triggers my BPD
I once again placed a mid man on an altar
one who talks about going to war
but it’s all empty threats
a dude who defines himself by the brand of his cigarettes
he thinks he’s so badass
a wannabe Marlboro man
with no class
a knockoff tyler durden
a rebel without a cause
a man without a plan
just plenty of flaws
yup, I worshiped yet another guy with no substance
who’s totally unbothered by my existence
a self-proclaimed loser
a tattooed poser
a narcissistic user
an adult man who agonised over an Instagram caption
and was terrified of having a conversation
– this is the kind of guy that has my total devotion
I know I did this to myself
I placed my faith in the potential
in the kisses on the forehead
that felt special
I believed
his worthless words
stuck inside my throat
his empty promises
made me choke
as I watched him smoke
quietly
since the sacred is in the silence
maybe that’s why he ghosted me
he too holds on to the moments that felt holy.
BASIC HUMAN WRITES 