three girls and a cig walking
beneath expectations, between enemy sheets
under all oppression
above the feeling of feeling free
walking towards dry humps and lumps
of flammable ****
three girls and a cig
three girls with a negative me
the moon screamed as we screamed back at it
the difference between feeling fine and feeling free, native from where we stood
and screamed
the slave, the agony, the animal in me
shouted at the stars and sighed all at once, all us three
we were there & there we breathed
and she's oh-so-thankful for this
even though words could not leave her throat, like the screams she had trouble with before
she said thanks a million times in her heart, in her arms, in her overworked mind-hole
directing all her energy to protect all other signs of companionship in human form
yet still unable to voice her words.
on screaming secrets never to be told