Answering Kleist: Rufus Mufasa

Response #1
You speak of my destiny like you own it
or have seen stones set,
like my path is yours to pervert.

You speak of my youth like it’s yours to gorge on,
like a sweetness that quenches only your thirst,
eases your pangs, without a delay of gratification.

You speak of my sexuality like it is yours to mould,
when really the malleability lies with me
and my lovers, the ones I chose at least.

Why do we call them lovers, when they pass on their spiritually infectious disease
with a carelessness as in denial as their toxicity
and a disregard just as damning?

With hindsight it is easy to spot the groomers.
With experience it is clear that I was a crutch for your addictions,
but there was never anything co about that dependency.

All prior sexual exploitation made your conquest easier.
All the lies they told made yours sound sweeter.
All this experience eventually made me free.

Response #2

You romanticise your own remembrance,
your manipulation, perverse mind’s eye.
I venerate my vigilant vengeance.

Against your delusions, your pestilence,
sustain upkeep of stains, silence their bleeds;
You romanticise your own remembrance.

My youth and prime never your possessions.
I dug graves big enough for both of us;
I venerate my vigilant vengeance.

My being bereft, your pointless penance
aid not my destiny, model of strength;
You romanticise your own remembrance.

My ability to heal – transcendent
like your lust to master and violate;
I venerate my vigilant vengeance.

Your righteousness, no room for repentance.
Your heart as black as my ancestor’s lungs.
You romanticise your own remembrance-
I venerate my vigilant vengeance.

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