I almost regret the person I am, because my family cannot accept me f I were to truly show them who I am, or maybe they wouldn’t understand.
I am not like the conservative Christian mannequins that inhabit my home like dead birds in a disintegrating birds nest.
They are lifeless and I do not want to learn from them.
I believe I should walk around shirtless, that human bodies are beautiful and alive and somehow my admiration is look at as if I don’t cherish my body when it is opposite. Love is appreciation. I do not believe in hiding what I love.
I am the one found drunk in a ditch, an when I woke up in the hospital and pulled the IV out of my arm, they were all horrified at the blood spraying on my face and the white washed walls without putting into the consideration that I never consented for anything unknown to me to be pumped into my vines when I easily would have woken sober hours later.
I fly in my dreams and I think it must be what it feels like to do it in real life.
It’s raining outside, and I can’t decide whether id like to evaporate with the dew on tomorrow mornings sunflowers, or not wake up in the first place.