Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 4 - The Weight of an Empty World I. The Question of Existence In a world that refuses to quench the thirst of my heart or feed the hunger of my body, and where even inside my own thoughts Read more from here...

Just like the dumbest kid in class who blurts out “two plus two,” and the whole room claps because the bar is on the floor-that’s how it often feels with her. It’s not that she’s done something extraordinary; people just offer support out of instinct, the way we help whoever looks like the underdog. While she offers only intimacy, and a man offers intimacy, love, money, effort, protection, a family name, and everything else, society still acts as if she is the generous one: “Thank you for giving us your divine intimacy.” Accepting a man purely for his money becomes the very proof of the lack-of intellect, strength, and character. The applause is never for merit; it’s scarcity dressed as virtue. Another voice inside me knows the truth: not every woman is a whore. I just happened to meet the worst of them, again and again, until my sample size became my worldview. A starving man blames bread for not feeding him. I blamed every woman for the ones who broke me. This isn’t philosophy. This is the fifth stage of grief-after denial, anger, bargaining, depression: self-abuse. Now they promote her to “equal.” A woman who is greedy from the start is not worthy of being entitled to “equal ability.” Next the gorilla will demand a seat at the table because it learned to peel a banana. The monkey will grab a microphone and insist it can sing. The female donkey will bray, “I also have a pussy-so am I not equal to woman the way woman is now equal to man?” Equality reduced to a punchline where the only requirement is owning the same hole. Read more from here...

I was silenced at my questions- each one met with a quiet no. No one ever saw the artist’s heart hammering inside me, the poet’s tongue, the philosopher’s gaze. Read more from here...

It’s my job to roar. When Ronie Dinosaur roars, even Godzilla looks like a toy lizard. Godzilla’s roar is sound ripped from the throat- loud, radioactive, cinematic. Ronie’s roar comes from deeper, Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur walks alone- not from necessity, but from habit and from style. He moves down streets where some girl might pause Read more from here...

Sometimes a man has to look in the mirror at least once a day, maybe after taking a dump, while washing his hands. The internet “Doomer” gives up and rots. Ronie Dinosaur walks. Read more from here...

I am awake, and the snakes are awake. The job of snakes, whether coiled in the jungle, hidden behind your girl’s ears, or wrapped around my own neck, Read more from here...

When a girl- or a woman- scrolls past my profile, the desi lens brands me: womanizer, playboy, cheapster in a sleeveless shirt. Read more from here...

Do you remember those days we were torn apart- who could have guessed we’d meet again in dreams, the way estranged friends run into each other, Read more from here...