the outside
world
burns as i sip my juice

and crack my knuckles in the

silent air.

i'm not selling
nothing,

not 'speaking' to anyone,

nor walking in other people's shoes,


just doing what i do
because i like to suffer,

and the 'hustle' is for people who want to get somewhere,
to be
wanted to
be adored,

to be fed
grapes in bed
while being stroked
by hairless men.

i'm happy
right here,
and
y
ou can find me over there,



WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY


over there


where not even a mouse skitters