My truth is that I teeter atop a constant precipice of blazing boldness and utter fear.

I tip toe a fine line of longing to be unapologetically passionate, raw and subversive - and comfortingly cordial, gentle and "nice."

My favorite colors are witchcraft black and angel pink.

I unabashedly groove to both bass bottomed gangster rap and dreamy, trippy synth pop - equally.

I rise each day to blaze a trail of fiery transformation - holding my flag high in the sky for all to see and follow - and end each day wanting to hide in my rabbit hole reading about herbal remedies and making tinctures and potions that the world.

My favorite flower is the optimistic tulip, but I find strength in the weeping willow.

I sing fierce songs of freedom, injustice and equality out loud, while humming soft songs of sweetness and peace and love to myself.

I'm both Dorothy and the Great and Powerful Oz.

I long to scream wisdom from the rooftops, as long as I don't hurt anyone's feelings.

I relate to the women of both Girls and Golden Girls.

I want socialism but I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do.

I get a thrill by telling arrogant people off with a witty sarcastic remark, and then feel heavy remorse because I wish I hadn't created such a divide.

I am a warrior for women’s rights, but I’ve also been a mean girl and a recovering bulimic.

I want someone to love me completely while I love them utterly, but I don’t want to be engulfed by the heady perfume and fluorescent distraction of romance.

I admire both Charles Bukowski and Simone de Beauvoir as equals.

I don’t want to care what the hell you think of me, but I want you to love and worship me just the same.

I roll my eyes when older men date much younger women, but find myself attracted to much younger dudes than myself.

I bow to the bodies of “real women” while secretly dreaming of what it must be like to be a supermodel.

I want to be adored as much as I want to be respected.

I worship the Goddess on my knees but also find Jesus to be a true prophet of love, and kind of a babe.

I’m as silly as I am intense, and I’m as insane as I am sane.

My ultimate truth is that I'm a lover and a fighter,
a saint and a *****,
an angel and a demon,
a divine spirit and a hot mess.

I envelop each contradiction passionately, balancing them equally like a tightrope walker in the wind. Frustrated and wondering how the hell I got here, but also awestruck and loving the view.

You see, I have come to learn that the sign of a true rebel is the one who wears her heart on her sleeve - while giving zero *****, sowing compassion, taking no ****, mending fences and slaying dragons.

A contradiction.
An anomaly.
Representing everything I am and everything I want to be.
My passion in the afternoon, followed by my silence in the evening.
It'd take you a lifetime to understand me.

suppose I wasn't destined for joy
that the complex systematic masses and impurities within me prefer darkness to thrive better in
because what if they knew all along
how much one can hide where the rest of the world isn't looking
they wouldn't know if I never smiled a day in my life
they wouldn't know if I did

suppose the off white of my skin means I'll live longer and isn't a result of the fact that I rarely see the sun
suppose I tossed the fake sun supplements into the garbage for some odd soul to seek sanity in
consider it a gift, these worthless pills I never needed in the first place

suppose I loved this life
and hated it at the same time

suppose I believed them when they told me it wouldn't be temporary
and I made myself a home in the nullity

suppose I felt something

.

Your contradictions spawn conflictions in my mind
your left, right means up, down.
Your hello means goodbye!

I love you means...

I can't find the silence, you've got me talking in my sleep
your brazen, media-vomited words burn my eyes at every turn
a facebook generation of mindless self-indulgence. You're herding us like sheep!

Your acceptance means...

Our bodies a £1 per kilogram, a friend request per ******* picture.
All of the reflections have glassed eyes for our souls have been reduced to stocks.
So many cracks in humanity, a group for every side, we don't know why were fighting. To far apart to see the divide.

Your acceptance means I love you.
I love you means you will never be good enough!

Stearic Acid*

Out of your mouth came
the good intentions,
out of your deeds,
you were a contradiction,
with contrasting actions.
Such a contradiction of a girl,
such a faker up front.
Don't deny that you would speak
when I was absent,
don't deny that you couldn't
even be happy because
all you knew how to be was
immaturely jealous.
You lured me in with that
saccharine smile and the embraces,
but you pushed me away
with the contents of
your foul mouth.

This makes no sense like a round square or a respectful mockingbird, or a song with no melody or a rose smelling ****.

Or an actionless verb or even better a dance with no steps.
It'll be 2017 in a few hours, but the stench of 2016 hasn't dissipated yet.

The celebrity massacre, gorilla killing, spirit and dream crushing year. It felt so depressing that at least once we were all brought to tears.

So sing Auld Lang Syne to your hearts content and cook Black eyed peas if you please
Just let me pass through midnight unscathed, that'll be enough for me

Don’t tell me you’re open minded
When you squeeze your eyes shut
At the mere idea that you *might be wrong.

It's never black and white or gray.
It's more of a ugly brown.
My thoughts are like a painters palette
or a house that's burning down.