A GOOD WAY TO GET A WOMAN'S ATTENTION IS TO SCREAM AT HER THAT OH MY GOD SHE'S VERY PRETTY OVER THE INTERNET AND OH MY GOD CAN CALIFORNIA EMANCIPATE FROM THE UNION YET WE'D HAVE A SELF-SUSTAINING ECONOMY I THINK ON A MILDY UNRELATED NOTE MAYBE I AM SERIOUS MAYBE NOT

self-reflection churns out an image of a clicking cicada of an aggressively ****** young girl, who due to the pressing weight of a blue silk chord around her throat possesses

a shiny dark, green exoskeleton (refracting light and resistant to moisture)
(SO ******* KAFKAESQUE) (!!!)

who sings as she rubs furry legs together and has decided to spill pain whenever possible onto screens and sheets, throwing up wherever she lands, without true cause in a careless disarray, breeding narcissism (let's throw a party)

biting into shattered satin, like a moth feeding off of human wetness and stains while punctuating words with mispronunciation and self-absorbtion
because she is deathly afraid of being boring and a daily routine, how predictable

(the crowd looks on miserably, fanning their faces with paper plates, sweating profusely)

this poem is predictable;
sorry.

I never have tried to **** myself, it would be silly to think that not killing yourself or killing yourself would have an actual influential impact on most of the world, except in rare cases.

Death is looming, I am grinning, I have not yet seen it so I guess I will live forever and subside off the hearts of men (no, not really, I'm kidding).

nyet
it's Russian for no and my cobbled language of bourgeois slang for not yet

and

I think about you

a lot

too much
for me to be okay with you and other girls

I swallow your story and

I WAIT I WAIT I WAIT

as civilizations collapse and--there's an uprising in Egypt!?!
and Kayne West releases another album and I listen to it when I kiss a girl and all I can think of is man,

I would make a great celebrity

I don't want you to **** me, I didn't know that-that-that text meant you were announcing you wanted to bounce back to my ***** and I

don't think I would say yes at first, to spite you.

KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVK­V
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV

I­'m a mess. I love it. Everything is going perfectly and I'm b u s y torturing artists and dancing with queer girls in Oakland because I like getting what I want

        because when I was younger I wanted to be a femme fatale
and here I am. Playing the villain
has been far more interesting that anything that I can lie up
and it's laughable that all my stories are true and that girls spread their legs and hold my hand after less than three hours of knowing me if I want to whisper in their ear.

KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVK­V
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV

I­'m desensitized. I like liking, I like lust, I like love. I'm capable of human emotion, just let me wrap the world in a thunderous revenge for the piety I have shown thus far and I will show you a good time out in the Mission when you text

at 6 on a Friday night when I smell trouble, decay, *****, and light
and ask me what I am doing
right now

and I get nostalgic for the view of a smooth set of shoulders between my white sheets
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV­KV
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
I­ am young, I am alive. I will take advantage of those two things.

                                                        ­                           ^^^^

I say, "hunger"
you say yes and I want to show that you are art.

I want to watch your compassion radiate a phosphorescent glow and your untrained talent play out in shaking droplets over plastic keys and strings

and honey,
you look like a god tonight

what's your name

Well.
Now wait, what, I feel dumb

not really, though. But still,

it's just all strange, this whole...
people vs people vs people
interlocked competition between bags of bones

(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))
           (((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))
                      (((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))(((( ))))

crosses fingers so I won't **** up

TOO BAD,
I probably will

When I was a child, I did not wish to speak as a child. I wished for adulthood.
I may have had a lilting laugh, but I spoke and thought like a child shouldn't.

I wished for adulthood every day, for the horizon's beckoning light--the guarantees promised by windows and my family's opportunities--of a life worth living and getting all I both wanted and needed, and I did. By the time I had grown in stature I had already put away childish things.

I find great satisfaction in being an adult, and a woman.
I belong to no one, but others belong to me. I feel whole.