Potential for doubt

my interests are greater
than my intellect.
for some reason,
i’m interested in things
of which i’ve little
to no comprehension.
naivety believed
when they said,
be what you want.
experience has taught
me i’m only what they
want me to be.
potential undermined
by a self doubt
to afraid to respond
from what its
reacting against.

Why do you write shit?

i write shit because it’s all i know.
i’m sure, if i knew more, it’d still be shit.
then again, that depends on who’s looking.
being art and it’s subjectivity,
anything created has the
potential of being good, or shit.
i make shit because
like my body,
i need to release waste.
i’d sooner be hated
than falsely appreciated.
my shit may sink,
but to whose nose?
we should all continue to
make because it is a source
of inspiration to another.
we all work off the same
shit pile, but we see it
in a slightly different way.
let us plug the toilets,
and defecate on the floor.
maybe then others
will come to recognize
shit from actual shit.

If i were a sex superhero

i would not be:
the energizer bunny;
i work hard,
but i do not last.
i would not be:
a stallion;
i might buck,
but only a $6.50.
i would not be:
a stud-muffin;
bran, oat, and raisin
lacks attention.
i would not be:
the karma sutra;
regardless of position,
i go in all the same.
i would not be:
the BDSM;
i don’t think
pain is pleasure.
i would not be:
freely swinging;
more than one
is too much.
i would be:
give what i can;
to not strive
is to be selfish.
i would be:
put you first;
all the more reason
to come second.
i would be:
save room;
i like to eat
out for dessert.
i would be:
listen;
responding accordingly
to your body language.
i would be:
take any view;
as long as you
feel comfortable.
i would be:
never invade;
consent is
key to your lock.
finally,
i would be:
myself;
in hopes that
that is enough.