He walks in shadowed night alone;
He has no story of his own.
I'll cannot stand the love of men
I'm good at destroying them.
I move to New York city or if I can make it here
I'm overfucked, underloved, tired, and queer.
I look on the devisation with resignation and chagrin
Leaving an emptied-out carcass of what once was an atlantic salmon
I watch with wretched envy
At their willingness to give
And I wonder at their shining light
And their driving will to live
When I am human
Is when I am woman.
Make me a bread of somedays a not-yets
Let recipe cool in its own shame and regret.
Birchbark and flour could burn down a bilding.
Which, obviously, I wouldn't teach to children
Do not trouble me with pettt constraints like gravity and other lies.
I rule undisputed and fuck the society who would say otherwise
Even when I look I cannot seem to find her
(In the) Faces of the other passengers
The coming springtime
Sounds just sublime.
Even a monkey knows something beautiful when they see it.
They'll shout it from the jungle vines, they'll wildly decree it.
I do not know why you are vexed.
Sex. Tomatoes mean sex.
I forgive you?
I outlive you.
While I beg you to let me erupt
I know that I can make you corrupt.
Oh, god, no more!
Of guts and gore.
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