It’s funny to me, lot’s of things, but this thing in particular I speak of resides in macho. Macho can make a man more than he is. And it can make him even less depending on the outcome. Macho lies and it hollers respect. It covers true selves and it relishes in intimidation. People will bow to it. Others will laugh. But there’s always a thought of, “Hmmmmmm…..”
Women tend to enjoy it, despite their common laughter and hate sessions supreme….wets their lower dreams. Hell, I’ve even known a few gals to be more macho than most of the macho fellas out there. Mean girls. Mean bitches….excuse my language, pardon my lips. But they get noticed. They get marked. Hard. Rigid. Cold. Cool. Ain’t one to step to. Macho.
What is it to be macho? What is it to place yourself amongst the top of the so called “class” of men too proud to submit to falling, or, at least never revealing how far they fell? Macho hides behind your back. Macho is in your face. Macho Man. Macho Camacho. Macho my funkin’ nachos. Mucho, wait…. More. More, more, more. More than he is? Who’s to say?
Only thy self knows how much more you are. Well, thy self and the everyday people that see through the transparent wall macho braces against, shadowed in the dark, ready to be broken when the soul can take no more.
Funny thing, macho. It’s a science of its own. Shiiiit, I’ve studied, even practiced, once….or twice. Gotten a lil’ stupid once….or twice. Been looked at with looks of judgment and stance once…..or twice. You’d think I’d learn my lessons. And I have. I’ve grown. I’ve become, well, more clear…..
It can be fun though….just sayin’. Good way to relieve some stress…..just sayin’. Meat-headin’ that shiz up here and there, from time to time. Hey, no harm, no foul, right? Right? Got a problem with that? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Original X: Bach
