I can only stand poets and artists and those who choose to be my muse I only like punk band musicians angry feminists and men with great hair, to use
I admire, only, those who speak in metaphors who journal and protest and listen to the doors
I don't give a **** about models or actors or politicians, weeds lining their inner cheek dandelions spat, everytime they speak
but most of all I can't stand your mother the way she holds me captive in her box "sit still porcelain doll" she says as she smothers as I try to become the fir, the froth, the rocks