So, at least two
intelligent, healthy and sane
adult men - peers -
have told me
I have a fantastic ***
and not to be a brat
but I'm sure others have thought it...
It turns me on to think of
how men see my ***
and imagine ******* me
as I walk down the street -
you! shut the **** up
keep it to yourself but
it turns me on -
saying this is so *******
radical
and could even
get me killed

Here you are again,
staring in this mirror.

It lies to you.

You shake with fear and
worry and
regret

like somethings going to happen
a consequence of the actions
you did not take yet.

Here you are again,
staring at your feet.

They  lie to you.

Throbbing with
blisters  
and pain

They lead you down the street
through the rain
but what you really want to do is
set yourself on fire and
jump off of that bridge

Here you are again,
looking into his eyes.

They lie to you.

Uncertain
enraged
and self centered.

They stare you down
and **** the life out of
you
like a leech
You surrender
Living out this life as
a pretender

Give it up.

we were taught we are disposable
and equipped with liquids, minerals and gold to preserve our fading beauty
because our charm is our only fluence
and it's a language with an expiration date

When I get really decrepit,
I will wear mismatched clothes
on purpose; fill my pockets
with useless pennies; leer
lasciviously at girls far too
young; mutter arcane
wisdom to myself just loud
enough to hear but not to
understand; eat everything
that makes the health Nazis
cringe; smoke in inappropriate
places; get drunk in the
mornings if I so desire
and smoke *** in public.
It will be an ecstasy to
not give a rat's *** what
anyone thinks. My only
regret will be that I
did not start sooner.

   ~mce