concerning women

i don’t trust women
their wiles oh their ways
continuously mislead
me from my mead

for at the very least
after inhibiting ambitions
and forcing dreams stale
leave me some ale

charity

a tattered red shirt stains the floorboards
woven ink pools
‘round my ankles

my bones lie heaving on mattress stacks
somewhat mangled
debauchery bent

a shelf of weary arteries and broken backs
leans awkwardly
stones supporting

the innermost article i place in question
quest of suffrage
i yearned for dearly

doubtless,
i tore it out!
i had no need for it at all…