Ah me, we do have so much invested in our gender identity don't we. It's important to know why. The reason is that we feel so deeply inferior that conformity offers us the only escape from feeling that difference. If we can only be like the next male we can get love, be accepted and pretend we don't have this tremendous self hate. I can circle jerk around pretending to be you and you me. Who can criticize then. Lets all learn our socially designated parts and get them down pat, boys and girls, any body odd we'll laugh off the block. We have to hate the odd one. We can't let anybody get away with being different. We've internalized and self directed our hate and can't let the odd one remind us of where we stepped out on line and got crushed. We must crush, kill, torment and hound anybody different we hate ourselves so much. Punish, ridicule, hate, blame, burn, bomb, excoriate the different, all so we don't have to see how miserable and small we feel.
Those of you who can make no room for the feminine in you are deeply mentally ill, deeply infected with self hate, a deep menace to life and happiness on this world. You are profoundly, deeply, internally sick, but you will never know. You hide within the crowd.
It's a God Damned shame.
Ever seen a cowboy on his horse in a parade.
You American hypermales are actually only emotionally dead. You are the actual closet homosexuals because you don't even know you're real self is dead in the invisible closet of your past. I morn for you, you poor dead things.
------------------------
A winter's day, in a deep and dark December, I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On (a) freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock, I am an island.
I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock, I am an island.
Don't talk of love, but I've heard the words before,
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock, I am an island.
I have my books, and my poetry to protect me,
I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock, I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.