I feel so domestic.
I'm honestly craving that 40s housewife life.
Cooking and cleaning all day,
Modest lipstick and pincurls.
Constantly barefoot and pregnant,
Floral dresses and pearls.

I hope he's wearing protection
As he ***** you over.

Hypocrites,
Loud trucks backfiring,
And poor choices.
I thought by the time you hit this age,
You would have ended your rebellious teen stage.
But I guess it's a permanent personality trait.

My stomach is so tight
If there were any butterflies in there,
They're probably dead now.

The room is spinning
Spinning and bobbing and weaving,
Weaving webs and stories and lies.

Don't threaten me.

Have you ever reached out to touch something,
That is simply not within your reach?
I feel so stupid,
Lying on my back,
Looking at a ceiling that used to feel taller.
Which is weird because as a matter of fact,
It now seems lower than when I was smaller.

I'm not saying it's a metaphor,
But I had asked the universe for a sign.

I can just hear your stupid voice in the back of my head.
Saying some stupid joke or a play on words.
"Be careful my dear,
Objects aren't always closer than they appear."

My floral dress,
The pink and grey one with the collar,
Is hanging from the clothes line.

Your ***** martini,
Shaken not stirred,
Is creating a ring on the coffee table.

I was expecting
*** on a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace
Kind off magic.

But you're late again.
Imagery doesn't matter when you're this ****** up.

I remember you once told me,
Right after I had dyed my hair blonde,
That you liked me better as a brunette.
I don't know why I'm thinking about that now.

I can get drinks for free,
I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue,
I can ****** without touching any part of my body,
I can destroy lives and break hearts.


But one time you told me that you like me better as a brunette.

I feel like I'm living in a house
That has already been packed up.
Displaced things.
Confusing mazes.
Unlabeled boxes,
But never unable to find the *****.

I'm too powerful to be open.
It's not secrets,
It's survival.