Misanthropic
I’d rather be misanthropic than be Miss America in high heels and a bathing suit or be misplaced, mystified or magnified.
I’d rather be misanthropic than misaligned, malignant, misinterpreted or put upon by zealots, run down by crazed cows, chopped into small pieces and fed to sharks, stretched thin like gum on hot pavement.
I’d rather be misanthropic than all the bruised ugly alternatives.
I think I’ll implant a cyanide capsule in a top molar for that day when things get so bad I start grinding my teeth.
This poem absolutely rocked my world.