Eighty-three: The Irony of Marxism

Resist me, you said.
I don’t want to but
god damn it
if you make me,
I will.

Resist me.
Just like every other dick
chasing
wagging tails only.

Is that what you want?
Do you want to play?
I’ll be lazy as a lick,
too busy for you,
disconcertingly coy,
squinting my eyes
in the way you
love
so much.

You are all such Marxist cliches.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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