Cult of the individual, cult of the collective

Refreshing like a stumble in the snow, the cold shock already melting

by the time I've righted myself, most likely explanation is

I've found a new way to be upset by an old way.

I've manifested a text from someone I last saw 13 years ago; 

coked out on a dance floor in Monticello, 

my head is vibrating as an awesome rash of guilty pleasure spreads across me,

and he tells me how you split his head open with a wine bottle and called 700 times 

when he could no longer bear it and left his phone off for a day.

I got off lightly and I'm still so angry for him too.

Coffee's in the works. We have settled, built our homes, he's off to Nyack soon. 

The potted history of men (?):

20s - she's crazy

30s - she certainly had her reasons, it's fine I suppose

mid 30s - crazy is not my word, fuck the patriarchy

40s - fuck the patriarchy, in fact fuck everything else and yes I'm still angry

mid 40s - nothing is my responsibility I'm still angry everything is my responsibility

50s -