I Am Milquetoast

Shush
Don't tell anyone
That I am
Milquetoast:
An
Unenriched
Diluted
Chalky white
Bitch
With no flavor
Or substance
No backbone
Or juicy berries
With juice to drip
And hours to
Make merry. 
No
I am milquetoast
Pale and watery.

I flop around
On the plate
Waiting to be
Served up to 
Invalids 
And sickly
Wan faced
Children
Waiting
To be gummed 
To death
Along with the 
Rest of the 
Insipid milquetoast
Crowd cowed under
A totalitarian
Lack of Joy
Amid the terror of
That Ultimate Division. 
I am that tepid drink
Of cowless
Soy. 

Hush now!
Don't tell anybody
I am eggless,
Cream filtered
Off the top,
No fancy French
Dusting of
Powder sugar
To sweeten 
The bitter.
A soggy dipped
Gummy piece
Of stodge
That slides down 
So easily
Her protests
Never lodged
In the throat
Nor rise up
With the gall. 
I am milquetoast
Plain and simple
And that is all. 

I will fall apart
The moment 
That you lift 
Me up to try and
Soften the
Fact that
What you see
Before you is
A watered down
Quitter
That gets eaten up,
Digested rapidly
And then flushed
Down the nearest
Shitter. 

Milquetoast 
Don't go with no
Ragged ocean claws
Milquetoast
Don't rock no boat
Or smoke 
On the corner with
The stoop-sitting boys
Or the neighborhood
Whores.
Milquetoast never
Raises her voice
Milquetoast sits in every 
Night alone
Hoping beyond 
Hope that 
She can rest a while
Before getting 
Thrown out
To the baying crowds 
To stone
And revile. 

Milquetoast
Panned...
Milquetoast
Planned to be
So much more. 
Milquetoast
Doorstop
Milquetoast
Mat by the
Door.