The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Incel-ar
  To my younger Brother


I know you
have heros and weapons
in realms we cannot imagine,
undefeated 
dopamine
drip.

I know you
have gazed at a thousand
navel battles spasming
and dribbling out
your own gray
lint.

I know you
once dreamed and imagined
you'd swing and take your shot
climb ladders and save
a grateful
damsel.

But now I'll never know
the golden you, kind and gentle,
who mowed your neighbor's lawn
and tried to be 
the good
boy.

I'll never hear your song
or the tune of your spirit,
resonant and full of
youthful
gumption.

Because you bought a gun,
held it between your legs,
and pulled the trigger 
in the direction 
you thought 
would least 
hit you.
■





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