I fall I fall
On surfaces that
Are ***** and damp and clammy and flat
I fall and land, but curtsey and stand
And while the crowds, they clap
My dress, it hangs
Over feet that cracked
I am I am
A tiny glass house
And my heart it beats under a tightly wound blouse
That accentuates my chest and shows off the rest
But carves my bones and burns my flesh
I wish I wish
Upon a star
That looks down on us
And giggles from afar
That crowds, and their parties and mirrors and reflections
Could stop biting my heels and offering objections
But since the world is just but a boat
That everyone rows to stay afloat
And since this sea ask only for performance
I'll put on my dress and dance for my audience
And as they clap as I fall but stand
I'll whisper to myself a tiny demand
That the next performance won't be so long
And the dance and prance won't finish the song
That when I jump my glass feet will shatter
And I'll disappear from space and matter

I
am
******

and not in a clawing flesh, body convulsing, banging headboard kind of way

that kind of ****** I can rock the **** out of.

No
I am more the
twisted mess of forced misconception
enlightened by time innocence forgot
forced into a life guided by trust in the lies truth told

Yeah,
it's the end of life as I know it
that's the kind of ****** I am

I knew joy
it was based on trust in what was true

I knew love
it was built on that same foundation

So yes,
I am ******
this mess of **** crumbling to pebbles while blinding me in the dust of my own ignorance
is anything but blissful

and all I hear are the cries of beautiful dying
not that dying is beautiful, though it can be
but of the death of beautiful things
of things I found implicitly lovely
the painful dying of all I believed was good

I am so ****** sideways

protected by others
I can no longer say for certain who I am
or who I believe myself to be

****** hard and unrecognizable
***** into truth by the kindness of others

No more questions because I am ****** that way too
no one wants to hear their old news and ***** laundry

I knew love once
now all I love, I question
reliving my choices in reasons why
trying to piece together my life had I always known
trying to define how I love by my own definitions
and not by what I knew love to be
because that love never existed
only in my ******, shattered memory

So, hey
guess what
I used to love you
now it's tainted with yesterday's **** streaks

I'm still me
But boy
am I ******

What is this thing people
search so endlessly for.
love is only temporary.
A stepping stone in the
essence of life.

Grow together and then
grow apart. 
Different stages introduce
different actors
all hoping for best performance.

I failed yesterday.
But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause I fail everyday.
When I ***** up a presentation.
It brings about a new sensation.
One of hatred and self-doubt.

My brain’s suffering a drought.
A lack of motivation.
Little information. Too many interpretations.
How can I function when I can’t think straight?
Too many variables. The consequences too great.

That’s why I do nothing.
Instead of presenting, I’m running.
Far, far away from everyone.
To a place where there’s no one. Anyone.
But me and my mind.

I’ve let people down.
My family, my friends. Their faces have frowns.
I’m such a *****-up. I want to disappear.
I’m just tired of all these stupid fears.
I turn around. Try to go back. But I hit a wall.
Instead of improving, I fall.
Back into old habits.
It’s like playing a game. Playing gambits.

I stand up there. On stage.
My heart is pounding. An internal rage.
Thoughts are swirling inside my head.
All I want now is to go to bed.
No, no! I won’t accept defeat.
I’ve come too far just to fall and taste concrete.
So, even if it’s terrible, even if nobody hears me.
I’m going to try, and that’s what it’s gonna be.
‘Cause I think in the end, trying something will be my savior.
Instead of simply relapsing into failure.

Every day is a performance
I perform the dance of pretending
That I don’t care about you above all
I’d die for a kiss
But I wouldn’t lie for a kiss
I would never lie to you
But I still have to perform
I still have to act
I still have to play a role
In this out of tune musical
I still have to be the sob story
But all I want
Is to be the love story
I wish I could write the plot
I wish I could change it
To a dance number
Where we dance to music
Only we can hear
Now that’s a performance

//

The definition of thot [that ** over there], via Urban Dictionary

A woman who pretends to be the type of valuable female commodity who rightfully earns male commitment—until the man discovers that she’s just a cheap imitation of a “good girl” who is good for nothing, and definitely not for relationships or respect.

If women are products, then thots are cheap goods. More than that, they’re knockoffs: low-quality merchandise that attempts to masquerade as luxury items.

They generally dress in cheap clothing, try to act like they're better than they really are, or think they're not ****** but high class when they're nothing close to classy. They demand respect, money, gifts, dates but do nothing to deserve any of it because they have no self-respect, no manners, low self esteem, little education and on top of all that they are thots because they have no self worth.

//

he called me a thot.
the same blood-boy nightmare who bragged about his ******* and double cup. too cheap to buy actavis generics, so he drank himself into a stupor on walgreens brand dye-free cough syrup. he acted black, said words white boys shouldn't have near their mouths. his friends were ableist at the best, and misogynist at worst.

he called other girls thots too.
but i was different. stick-and-poke told trans king who told american spirit who told blood-boy what i confided in a friend. a story that ends and begins with my tears, tears from gagging, tears from telling my mother about the worst three minutes of my life and how my knees and heart hurt afterwards.

i embodied thot.
left my family for friends, joked about the pain until it hurt even more. i found myself crying in bathroom stalls, looking down at my body in the bathtub as i learned to breathe water. the girls said i was thick, i didn't know if they meant it in a good way. the boys said worse. i wore camouflage pants, comme de garçons tops, air force ones. i jumped on trends like a wild cat stalking prey. but i could never catch anything worthwhile with my soft, clawed paws.

he smiled like he was better than me.
after blood-boy stunned summers and winters alike, burned spring and fall, and for what? to call me a thot? i knew what i was to him. but he didn’t define me anymore.

he called me a thot.
and this time i fought back with my eyes, didn’t just sit there and feel words welling up inside.
because even thots are queens.
because i used to be deciduous, but now i’m evergreen.


//