Men of Tin

How do you stand us like this

egos protruding from our pointed heads

like oil spouts, letting our brains drip out

so we have so little left to think with,

men of metal whose clomping feet

march over tender hearts like blades of grass

women’s souls more vulnerable

than their tough skins portray

wondered from the inside out

lust thrust into your faces

you have no time to duck

No time for honesty, tenderness

or even self-reflection

enduring our rusty touch as part of

the price you must pay to survive
our faces plastered with sports headlines,

dirty jokes and lies,

we so transparent in our wants and needs

you don’t even need between the lines

to know us, letting us lean over you

plunge into you, all with the pretense of love

you taking us in, but always with a price

we always pay, even though the real cost

is born inside of you,

each thrust leaving bruise that later bleed.

How do you endure us

and this perpetual game of trivial pursuit,

we seeking to match wits with you

when we have no wits left

while you sit with your oil can waiting

the one man of tin that still has a heart

waiting forever,

knowing down deep,

none will ever come.