I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).

That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further notice.
.
.
Songs for this:
HEATED by Beyoncé
Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay

11am 08.12

Dear bumps and brusies Doctor,
To you I never voiced the call-
You say your fee is very simple
But nothing is at all.
And im sitting here and wishing
In the years that are to be
When im faced with lifes real troubles
They won't follow me.

Bring me no roses,
or sad white lilies
chant me no dirge,
or quiet tunes of deep respect
this is not remembrance
for it was never how I lived
or ever wanted to be
instead, bury me in colour
asters for my winding sheet
yes, daisies for my shroud
a stars and wonders funeral
and sing me out, real loud