I wrote a poem called White Guilt, Son’s Guilt.
It's a spiral about God, my mother, gender, shame, and what it means to keep performing when you know you’re already the disappointment.
No art. Just the dirge.
Mom gave it a 6 out of 10. That might be the truest part.
🧵👇
Link: https://wittgensteinsmonster.substack.com/p/nephilim-oedipus-and-me
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