Like a worm digging beneath the skin,
Does this virus slowly eat away at my spirit,
Causing me to rot from the inside out.
Necrotizing fasciitis threatening to amputate my limbs
And end my life...
What's worse are the symptoms:
Blistering around the mouth,
Spreading itself to others through my words and actions.
I was contaminated when I looked at her cleavage,
Left open and visible by her low-cut top.
It festered upon noticing her skirt’s tightness on her hips.
It became what it is today by admiration,
Watching the resolve of her cheeks to shape her fabric.
They swayed left and right as she walked around
While the virus began its way to the nerve path.
It lingered there for years, waiting for me to be weak.
Then it became active and made its way back to the surface
As I began to flirt and lust over the female species.
I was not the only one infected.
Many males found themselves cursed with the same virus.
Suddenly, we were getting sick without a cure
And no one was helping.
They referred to it as a common cold, hoping it’ll pass.
Meanwhile, we continued living in poor health,
Grabbing women like they're the cure, when they aren’t.
We raid their bodies like medicine cabinets
To find some relief through pain medication,
But they are sugar pills to our bodies
And with each act, the virus worsens.
"Boys will be boys" and "it's only natural";
Two leading treatments according to uneducated doctors
Believing the virus raises the strength of the immunity
When the virus actually is more like untreated hepatitis
Which may kill if left unchecked.
This isn’t about flesh and blood, but the mind and spirit,
So we place such concerns behind us
In hopes that life will cure us automatically.
Never facing the cliff as we walk towards it.
If we are to fall, may it be on our backs,
So that the nervous system is to collapse first.
May we watch porn,
Never addressing the conditioning of expectations.
May we visit strip clubs without knowing what we support:
A system that turns girls into vile creatures and toys
Beings less than human.
May we long for nudity,
Or clothes that will accent the frames of our women,
Making us gluttonous in our consumption of them.
May we go to clubs and dance in imitations of sex
So that we are more relaxed having sex during an episode.
May every thought of the opposite sex be about sex
So that we never observe the slaughtering of our souls.
This is the creed of the fallen angels
Longing to see us burned in the lake, so they aren’t alone...
At least until we allow the cure to take over...
For me, that cure came in the form of the virus,
But was quickly overcome by a slight difference.
Though she wore the clothes of temptation in the spotlight,
When no one was watching, she covered herself.
I wondered, “How does she dress so provocative in photos
Yet owns a gown so lovely?”
And so I learned to look within,
To see the photos as opportunities for others and not her.
What she wanted was one to demand she cover her body,
To protect her from the vile things consuming our minds,
To be given a reason to believe in men again,
Forever banishing the pain caused by many infected males.
She was a sheep tossed to the wolves who were once lions.
Something in me wanted my mane back.
Something inside wanted to be the man she desired,
But she would not lead me to him, only watch me.
So I began my journey to recovery.
The cure of wisdom set in and began to heal.
It traveled deeper than the nerve path and consumed all.
My skin healed and my mind was at ease.
The low-cut tops and skin-tight skirts no longer satisfied.
I hungered as if all my appetite was restored instantly.
I longed for total intimacy rather than just the physical.
I wanted conversation, dreams, work, and children.
I wanted an existence strictly beneficial to her.
Most would call it love, but it wasn't.
Though she longed for a man like who I was becoming,
She was also infected and refused to be treated.
So I ventured, a cured man waiting for a cured woman,
Or a woman ready to be cured.
Leading men from medicine cabinets to the doctor’s office,
Which is a place of solitude with a Bible at your feet.
Read the diagnosis and understand the prescription,
Then follow the directions for medication.
It says a woman is the most crucial companion in your life.
Treating her as less automatically injects the disease.
The infection will release into your conscience
Like heroine inserted by an infected needle.
So welcome in the virus.
Withholding leadership from the man does the same.
To prevent contamination, renew your mind daily.
The hurts of the past are not promised in the future.
Learn from the virus’s effects if you’re infected,
Then promise yourself a better chance going forward.
Lack of resolve to stay healthy administers the infection
And sends yourself to the sickbed once more.
To cure the infection, forgive.
One’s past mistakes and hurts are not promised tomorrow.
Such thinking is that of a defeated person
Who fails to realize this virus is not permanent.
The prognosis of the uneducated doesn’t have to apply.
Be the cure.
Forgive yourself and forgive others constantly,
Removing the effects of yesterday,
Applying strength today.
You are more than you have been told.
It’s time to act like it.