Constantly I must take off the hairpins, the embroidered shirts, and the lint skirts. I must sit on the wooden stool and unbraid my hair, then proceed to cut it short. I must be able to live without them: the conditioning
–their idea of womanhood(genderhood)
Every once in while I must banish them: to know
I can live without them; they are not me ( all those ideas, all that heavy jewelry)
—I am free; I do not weigh
attempt to re-remind myself of shedding that which I have been conditioned to accept especially when it makes me feel as though I must give up my power to create my own life.
the harder i hit it
the more of
a religious experience
What do I actually want
When I'm craving a high?
What need am I trying to satisfy
By drowning myself in a bottle?
I want to escape
I want to feel joy and freedom
I don't feel that now
I feel like drugs will bring those feelings
Even for just a moment
And sure, they might
But then I'll just think that
The drugs are what makes me happy
When it's actually the feeling of peace and happiness
The things I'm actually craving
That will make me happy
But, the human brain is flawed
And it will just see the drugs
And make me want them again
Pavlov got something wrong,
because classical conditioning,
is for the classically trained.
I, meanwhile, live halfway between the operant
and the mountain,
and an iron cast bell.
What he didn't realize is that the dogs
cared more to sink their teeth,
into old Ivan
and buy their freedom for a day.
Mothers know best, or do they?
We get used to anything these days,
It is all conditioning in these ways,
Why was Pavlov's hair so soft? I say,
Because he conditioned it! Hey, hey,
Mothers know best, or so they say,
Who is conditioning whom today?
Look at me all fat from self indulgence
custard cream and chocolate pieces on my face
I barely take a breath
from my gluttony
See me swimming in a vat of cinnamon cream
Big juicy congealed bacon-fat emotions
And this little piggy is hungry
Everything you said was bad
has me spinning
Swimming in it now.
I'm flicking cheesecake at your conditioning
smearing mascarpone over my naked chest
without shame I don't
I don't have shame
Lock me up in your prison of doctrine
But I'll eat through that too eventually
Engorged in self release and painted in '**** that's'
Mousse feels good on my skin
Coats my teeth
Sherbet and berry compote in every orifice
Watch me choke on caramel
Choke on life
Laugh while I lapse into a sugar coma
And cover me in told-you-so's
While I come to,
Diving straight back in wearing only a smile
Shame from childhood experienced into adulthood