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Just Thinking, What IS That!

He Man



He bites his lip piercing soft flesh. His mouth remains closed vacuum sealed against her bitter judgment. He is literally holding back his words.

Her tirade is seemingly never-ending nevertheless he steels himself against her magnetic madness.

“You sorry motherfucker, weak ass bitch, you ain’t a man, a real man would have manned up and been a man, punk bitch, ooh I hate you, stupid impotent dickhead, I hope my son don’t turn out nothing like your stupid ass!” “What you gonna do! What you gonna do! Go ahead hit me! Hit me! Yeah just what I thought!”

She is ruthless.

Her untamed, unchecked wild and abandoned tongue lashes out whipping his manhood to shreds.

There laying crumpled at the basement of his debasement resides the residual effects of her power.


A woman who verbally abuses a man is a coward. She is afraid of vulnerability and rejection. She can not see a man loving her because she has not figured out how to love herself. 

She cannot be trusted.

Instead of scraping the remains of a meal that left a bad taste in her mouth; she serves a cold dish of regurgitated animosity.

Because you haven’t raised your hand in anger society has allowed you to slither unchecked into the minds of your husbands, boyfriends and children.

We’ve protected your rights as a woman and praised your equality to stand up to your men.

“How strong she must be!”

The strength is in him.


He does not strike her. Trembling hands secured in his pockets;
he bites his lip piercing soft flesh. His mouth remains closed, vacuum sealed against her bitter judgment. He is literally holding back his words while holding up the foundation his family built his manhood upon.

It is for every him I say this prayer:


Let him maintain the gift of strength and fortitude necessary to sort through the landminds she’s planted in his mind so the truth of his worth can detonate and explode into action.
Let him find satisfaction within and strength without

About The "SoKey" Experience

Each morning I wake I pour myself into a goblet, slowly inhaling the scent of my own faults, swirling them around the glass, allowing them to breath, then I sip, allowing my own inconsistencies to soak my tongue before swallowing. If I am tipsy from my own frailties - I'm less likely to become drunk on yours. -SoKey (introspection)


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She Writes – Date Night!

September 2014
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