and, well, sometimes
i do not feel handsome. or pretty. or nice.
i do not feel kind. i do not feel gentle.
sometimes,
i do not wish to be useful. or funny. or nice.

i would like very much
to be mean.
to tear everything apart
with my own hands.
to watch as they become covered
in ichor, cruor, viscera.
i cannot do this.
however much i wish for it
it is not in my nature.
this i know. this i rue.

i would like, perhaps
to be taken seriously.
is this such an ask? such a colossal want?
it seems so.
perhaps, if i ripped. if i tore. if i maimed.
i would be taken seriously.
perhaps not.

i still do not want to be nice.