bros before hoes

Pretty boys with pretty souls

loving each other like girls without the fearful emotions created by the notion of belonging to a powerless sex in a patriarchic society

observant like lovers are of each other’s movements and clothes

non-coherent abstract thoughts and emotions comfortably framing co-existence

willing to talk but unwilling to explain too much to anyone who desn’t get it

laughing loudly at utter bullshit, about the creation of the universe

laughing painfully at their own failed attempts at suicide

reciting poetry like characters out of the big Lebowski

desperately vulnerable between testosterone peaks

drinking, smoking, spitting, falling over

secretly fantacising of being each other’s girlfriend

strong muscular arms tenderly enclosing each other

dancing dances contemporary dance performances haven’t reproduced yet

some kind of balance between regularly stumbling on things and falling over

some divine rough grace

keepin’ it real when hoes don’t seem to understand shit

knowing each other’s silence

feeling the pain

bros just want to be gay meeting inside Di Prima

hard to understand why girls became the pretty sex and testosterone was denounced as the aggressive hormone

I follow the smell of flower scented testosterone

The closer I get the more I think about how Burroughs makes more and more sense

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