African Trees, Question Mark

under boob sweat is real
even for men.
does this make me
a feminist?
in my eyes only,

I stole a glance today,
and cut someone off in traffic.
Honesty is poverty,
just ask the heart of what's-her-middle-name.

While I am just a son of an onion,
lost in a salad
on a day when the fridge breaks
and Pepper ain't home
to save me with spices and time. 

Some times you casually lose your mind
on a mildly hectic Tuesday
with chia seeds stuck in your molars,
and a client that doesn't know shit about shit,
so you write a poem and see red dots,
oh well. 

How many more years?
I guess I am the one
with the responsibility
to raise the dead.
Lick my life.