Certain Bros

dens of iniquity

bobs in the lake

bills of attainder

robs on command

arts without meaning

peters in and out

ice cubes

in a dirty glass

of hot water

who-gives-a-crap tough

dammed with emotions

muscular with bourbon

broke by decisions

affable with contempt

exfoliated egos

placards of disregard

for other living beings

a promiscuous priesthood

with good-fucking-luck

signs of the cross

even in tribes

or packs on parade

most

wherever they go

are at this bro thing

desperately alone

to the core

to the skull to

the cross

and the bones

fanning the fire

of the world's

and their own

unraveling

mumbling

meaningless

shibboleths

masquerading

as thoughts

donning their frustration

at the corners of

contemptuous mouths

across furrowed brows

in the squinting glaze

with shades covering

salacious

nearsighted

eyes

pin pricks

of sun-faded paint

and yet

in a manner

always asking

for forgiveness

for someone

to show them

another exit door

in love in a panic

staring at the sky

for a message

from above

about what's

never gonna come

the embodiment

of lonely unrelenting

of the need

to be seen

just once

for some father

go figure

to pay heed

before it’s over

fidgeting in unconscious

excoriation dressed down

fattened up in their jeans and

unquestioning willingness

to believe any aspiring

false god who deceives