The Hero Inside by Maria Gornell

He says they’re all pretenders
They all lie,

So he mounts them like a beast

Releasing his seed

Unconsciously hoping

For a miracle child?

I say fuck weekend

Wonder boys hissing

Down my ear

Metaphors of lost love

Needy childhood eyes.

Demanding I be grateful

For a quick thrust or

Suckling on my nipple

Hard.

He says be grateful

For small mercy’s,

One night stands

With Bukowski wannabe’s

Who I’ll be able to

Write about

As soon as he’s died,

Pissed up apathy

Riding the underground

Searching aimlessly

For women

who always fall short.

I reply

With woman’s needy cries

That I know will be ignored

I’m supposed to be strong

Obsessed with flesh,

Staring at men crotches

With a pussy on fire

Realistic about impossibilities

Of finding true love,

Whipping myself dry

With home truth’s

And lies..

He’s dead to me

I’m numb to him,

His seed failing to

Awaken my passion,

My heart failing to

Reach his mind,

We are sordid

Melancholy beings,

One taking refuge

In bottles

And empty soulless fucks,

The other

Inhaling life,

High hopes

Finally alive

Yet

Not knowing

If she can ever find

The hero that lies

Within..