I want to be thin as a whisper,
To be feline and ****, a cat with long whiskers,
To have length and width but no depth at all,
Not one bit of fat and to walk model tall,
I’ll take drugs, gobble Kleenex, drink only weak tea
Whatever it takes, to not ever be me.
I want to be loved like a pillow, feathered and light,
Held close to your cheek, cuddled all night,
To be soft squished and moulded into all kinds of lovers,
A prop up, a padding, a bump under the covers,
A cushion encased in a bright burst of stars,
I can’t wait to be normal, I’m slightly bizarre.
I want to be lost in crowd of loud celebration,
To be swept up and away in a mass of flirtation,
To be jostled and felt up, the hands of rude strangers,
A joyous outburst, wet kissing ex-changers,
To abandon my will, flee from restraint,
I can’t be, I could be, I am what I ain't.
re-post-- I'm so tired of greed and Trump and the pure absurdity of this never ending presidential quest. We have 15000 nuclear weapons-- just three of them could destabilize the climate enough to cause our own extinction. And yet grown men and one woman argue about packing children onto cattle cars and throwing them away like garbage. So I write nonsense and stare at my screen and wonder if there are better ways to have ***. Perhaps while hanging off the balcony?? I am the problem I complain about.
