I hope you shit your pants, asshole

And I'm just tipsy enough to agree that the whole depicted scenario sounds like the shits, and I know whereof I speak because I've actually shit myself at work (long story). Maybe it was for past behavior, but I can no longer remember what.

I am only aware enough to admit that I've no clue what that last line is about.

Otherwise the tale is very engaging.

Ah, crescents in my palm… a clenched fist, nails digging in to the palm from a clenched fist. The other hand had a wine glass.

Also I like to draw on myself with sharpies.

Also? I need this story in my life. You should have led with ‘I shit my pants at work.’ It seems karmically awful.

Sometimes I feel like the true marker of our encounters is how much we die in the giving. Take that how you will.  
From the short time I’ve experienced your writing it appears very much like a game of tennis. Just with more balls. And not always on the man.  

What I’m saying is, there’s this beautiful streak in your writing of hitting back everything that’s served. For what reason we don’t know, but there’s this tremendous power struggle displayed that you can’t help but take your eyes off.  

I however was intrigued by that last line. I too thought it was a little odd, but I like that your poetry isn’t surface level and makes us think. A rare quality to find these days. So I thought about crescents, and obviously the first thought I had was the moon. Crescents always mean that the moon is half peaking or half disappearing, and I felt like it was a bit of a metaphor of how you see yourself and your encounters. Never fully there. Never fully revealed. Always on the cusp of leaving.  

In Hinduism, Shiva is often depicted as wearing a crescent moon on his forehead to symbolise that he is both the master of time and is himself timeless, and what poetry there is to be found there. I feel there’s a direct echo of your poem and your writing in that symbolism. As if you’re shattering a thousand pieces of yourself through the universe. It feels cataclysmic, and a reader can’t help but look away.  

Sometimes I am in awe of the privilege of being allowed to comment on any poem such as this, because it feels like these online places were made to just allow people to be themselves. To write their own sacred texts. To be safe in their own madness without people telling them how to live their lives, and sadly, too many people see the poet, and tend to forget the poem that left their lips.  

Sometimes it feels as if there aren’t enough safe spaces for us to be our whole selves without judgement. I think you do that well.  

I appreciate the corrosive honesty of this share.

I need a poem about corrosive honesty. That is a glorious phrase.

The depth of your analysis is beautiful. The crescents were to be divots in the narrator’s skin from clenching her fist… the other hand had a wine glass. So the half-shown moon metaphor was intentional. Half of her hands. Half of her intent.  Half of her power. Left hand is where the heart line is. So yes, you nailed that.

But I wanted to infer the physicality, the way bodies express rage through more than a stereotypical flashing eyes or tight jaw.

To stand quietly with a clenched fist, harming yourself while hiding your internal turmoil.  

Thank you for being you. It’s fucking amazing to talk about poetry, the craft, the intentions. I appreciate the fuck out of you.

Fuck you for lying just to fuck me
Men like that should shit their pants in public.
May I call you brilliant Betty? 😊
You write from depths some people will never know, visceral truths.  
You inspire me 😘

Awww, shucks D-bear, thank you!

I believe in karma. I believe it. So I know I can’t wish true harm on a toadstool, but… pantsshitting doesn’t throw too much karmic imbalance into the world… 😚

You're probably like me.
You write in characters.
What's real ?
What isn't?
What's based on a fuck you had 10 years ago ?
Whatever
If you're so goddam HOT show us a real picture.

Tough love Betty

Dont lie  

You're too much of a good writer

Chill

Be yourself  

You might be likeable just because it's you ...

This is a strange comment.

I am in everything I put here.

Thanks for the read. I’m glad you liked it.

What's strange about it B ?

It’s just that artists don’t have to prove anything beyond the value of their work.  
 
You’ve noted me as a good writer… but demand i prove … everything.  
 
That’s weird  
 
Also? The photo thing triggers me.  
 
Do you know you are not the first man here to ask/demand/require/need a photo? I need to prove that I’m the girl in the photo. Men want to SEE…  
 
Do you know that I actively avoid poems with pictures because I find it cheating? If I can’t imagine it, I’m a bad reader or they’re a bad writer. That’s the mystique. The magic.  
 
The art.  
 
You paint, so it’s different. Also I like you.  
 
Do you know why I love women here? They don’t give a fuck. I could be 800 pounds, bedbound, with a skin disease and two teeth, and they’d respect the mental fortitude it takes to write beyond four walls. I’ve never had a woman ask me to prove that I’m hot. They let me be hot because I carry the confidence, and I do so for them.  
 
What if I wasn’t hot and I wanted to feel beautiful in my art? How reductive would it be to know I can’t imagine myself a fairy princess if genetics made me a troll, without men asking me to prove it?  
 
Ps. Every fucking photo I post is me. We never speak of this again. I find it distasteful to prove my hotness when I’m here to write.  
 
I am not hot. Men are just idiots.  
 

hello beautiful you are hot to me p.s. please don't avoid my poems I cheat and use photos finding the right one to me is an extension of the art...like when musicians do videos...I think it adds to what they are trying to convey what I am trying to convey ❤️

I adore you and take your art for its merit.

I know you never cared about anything beyond me, and that is why I care about you.

Noted
And you were easier on me than I expected.
I respect your answer and appreciate it.
I don't consider myself an idiot but I'm subject to a lot of cliches men suffer through because of unquenchable desire.
Humans are a failed experiment...
Thx for responding as kindly as you did.
G

thank you lovely one that means the world to me ❤️

Why they gotta do that? I felt this one beginning to end. And what an end! Crescents in palms...damn, that was fucking brilliant! I've worn them like tattoos more than I like to think about. They fade eventually but you can still feel the indentations long after

Right?! Why they gotta DO that?!  

Thank you my sweet friend. The understanding of shared trauma is the shit dreams are made of. Fuck ‘em!

good morning beautiful I'm in awe of you you're so powerful I wonder do you even know this man sounds like a scared boy who couldn't take the heat even though you warned him...I took the cresencts to mean self harm I know what that's like to turn all the rage in on yourself because you need to do something with that energy I have never unleashed mine on another person I've always turned mine inward...it is a powerful force to be lived with that's why you love so hard you'te feelings has a mind outside of what might seem wise...that you pick and go on everyday in such a mundane world where it isn't allowed to feel so powerfully leaves me in awe...I love who you are I don't know you but I feel you...I only encountered one like myself once...it was devastingly beautiful connection and I hurt bitterly when it was over but it was worth just to know I wasn't alone...I want you to keep being you everyday to the best of your ability... because you shine and others are in the shadows afraid to do that...it takes a lot of courage I hide myself away choosing who to reveal my nature to...I am drawn to your beauty and your rage because I know it's honest ❤️

Thank you my sweet friend. I know you see me, and I appreciate it.

Jeepers this is deliciousness, it puts words to such a clear experience of many. You render it unapologetically with complete abandon for care for the other. I just love this. Well done for wearing your heart like a loaded glock.

Thank you …. Shit. That phrase is so good I can’t think beyond it.

Wear your heart like a loaded Glock?! Fucking brilliant!

Thank you for the feedback and the delicious review!

Honestly felt ba for your pain, but that title cracked us up, tight work Lady

Thank you. I'm fucking classy.

Hahaha, all Ladies are

Epic title and poem...

I do love me a good title!