"Pussy's on strike"
A friend told me, half in jest with
partial self-awareness, he wasn't ignorant but he wasn't ignorant to
his own ignorance.
He was blind but he knew there were
things he couldn't see. He talked about male privilege ironically. He
said these days you're committing sexual harassment just by giving a
woman a compliment, and even he was probably guilty of being a
misogynistic piece of shit.
But I feel like maybe you could change,
I don't know, maybe I could explain.
You think pussy's on strike because you
don't see what happens when you leave your friends in the shadows
alone with that pussy.
She doesn't tell you because the last
time it happened they didn't believe her, they told her it's not a
big deal.
Just let it go, they told her. Try to
co-exist with someone who moments ago tried to make you their meal.
You think pussy can't take a compliment
because you didn't meet the guy that day that followed that pussy
around for forty five minutes just trying to be nice to her. But I
get it, why should you be blamed for that weirdo? After all, you
aren't a threat to the pussy, at least not necessarily. You just
haven't given the pussy any reason to think otherwise.
You're right though, you're not that
weirdo, and this isn't about you.
You think the pussy is striking? No
sweetie, the pussy is charging like a bull and it will trample right
over that china-shop manhood, pissed you've been prodding it with a
stick to watch it twitch.
Spent so long calling it an object you
confused it for one, you forgot the pussy had a name, and the pussy
had a voice, and the pussy is using it to roar and scream, and the
matador is naked, red cape wind blown and flailing in the sun. Glass
soldier, still standing proud for each of the knives it dug into
pussy's backside, belt notches to remind the brittle boy he's better
than the people he treats like cattle but he's too blind to notice the slaughterhouse is loose
The pussy's not on strike, the pussy's
stampeding. They ain't at work, you asshole, they're fighting for
their lives. This ain't a competition, this is justice. The pussy coming so run, now,
little glass figurine. Run.
