Irredeemable

Irredeemable qualities

Are not created

Equally. There is somewhat of

A natural hierarchy

At least, to me.

Some people have

“Types”, qualities they like.

Bucket lists of people

They’d like to fuck, those they’ll

Learn to miss.

Me–not me.

I have a different sort of list

Qualities in people I find

Irredeemable, a sort of

People you’d rather miss–

Than kiss.

I’d rather keep those people

Limited to a the fingers in my fist

Than lovers,

People I shared life with.

That’d be so selfish!

–That’s the first, irredeemable quality–

Selfishness!

It’s essential

Like oil on your nose

And if you rub it on my face

You will get disposed of.

Survival is key

There are qualities at play

In people’s soul

That speak to me

“Survival mode”

If you make a fundamentally bad call

And you are now fundamentally flawed

Do your flaws get to heal?

Or does it depend

Qualitatively

On how irredeemable you are

I should be benevolent, right

I should rise above

I should be an example to others

Of how to thrive, despite all the haters

But to be honest, lover

I’m done fighting the inevitable

I find all of this contempt

Irredeemable.

Why try to be the change

When the change comes with

Tremendous pain

A conscious growing

Where it doesn’t belong

Evolution going way, way wrong

I’m an animal! I shouldn’t have to

Shit on a pedestal.

I wonder if birds wish they had

Social media, or if they know

That we know they’ve been tweeting

Our position

Telling the Russians

How Hillary “never went to Wisconsin”

I think maybe sexism

Is a bit irredeemable

However, I am a hypocrite, then

I am afraid of men, often.

Does that make me sexist?

I don’t think so, I think it makes me

Awake. They are often giving me reason

To be afraid. The same way

Their mothers made them feel that

Women aren’t real, and just want

To manipulate.

Hmmmm, I’m really tired

Of being proven right

A friend told me

“You get what you put out into the world”

If that’s true

Then where is my warm hug?

Where is my poem?

Where is my song?

Where is my good listener?

Where is my close friend?

I don’t get what I put out in the world

I’d love to patronize you

The same way, someday

But I would never have the heart to

I love, all of you, to a fault

I love you irredeemably

My own prison, my own war

My own hell.

Trapped, caring about everyone

Wondering why I can’t just

Care about myself.

I am, after all

Irredeemable, as well!


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