by Catherine Krause

I’ll pound all your asses and faces,
you cultural Marxist liberal cucks
who think just because I like sex with men,
I should care about anyone else but myself.

It’s PC for the virtuous queer to cry tears
for the little guy himself,
but that faggot’s not me;
in fact my contempt for those queens only grows
when I picture their empathy,
picture that weak little shivering runt who I’m not:
I don’t mean a boy but a hairy old man (he’s not me)
who needs poppers and Viagra to move his limp dick.

You think just because I climbed up off your backs
I should care about helping you up like I promised?
I’ll pound all your asses and faces,
you cultural Marxist liberal cucks.

 

[Catherine B. Krause is a queer, disabled, and transgender woman living in Niagara Falls, NY with her girlfriend, three cats, and PTSD. Her poetry has previously appeared in Rabbit Ears: TV Poems, The Opiate, The Lake, Gargoyle, and elsewhere.]

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