Oh macho man,
whose only feeling is rage
I'm returning your gifts, your toxic shame;
You can't heal by refusing to feel.
Get a hold of yourself or it’s going to kill you.
Hold your own, be lonely for awhile, like I am.
Eat loneliness, despair, eat abandonment like I do.
Be a woman and learn how to suffer with some dignity.
Shut up, sit down, cry.
Don’t just do something, lie down. Take a break.
If you refuse to pray or meditate or die, at least do nothing.
Look out the window. It’s Fall. The colors of the dying are screaming to be noticed.
Shut up sit down look around and fall
apart, why don’t you.
It’s not you; it's the small, the innocent, the ones that feel, that have no choice
the animals
the mountains, the trees, the inhabitants all in the green in the wood in the water in the air, in the unseen as well, all beings craving love, craving life.

the trees, our witnesses to history, defying it by standing there still.

Oh macho one, be more like the trees, for you delude yourself at such a cost:
In a sea of pain you strike out, but you are still reaching for life as you strike it down.
What madness has driven you to drive away the very nature of your own pain. You rage at me but in the dark you curl up and pull at me as if I could save you from this world, like the baby to whom we lied promises of a better world. Is there no in-between?

Also called, "Oh Macho Ones".... Please respond to my writings as being fictional, ie comment on the writing, not the writer