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.