Rough rides won’t stop these cravings: tease me till I cum, flog me till I turn. I am tired of being a girl, of rules, of makeups and breakups. Of constant quarrels and triumphs, of menstruating and ovulating, I just want to be human.
Noodles and crayons, children and triumphs: three fucks, two cums. Pass me the marijuana, I pray that nobody buys her.
I am a confused gay; I don’t know if I even like women, if I am gay enough. We broke up because she won’t send me her nudes. I am in camp but still won’t follow the rules.
Married men cheat easily; it is hard to know a true one. Don’t brag about consistency, or potency! We are in this together, let’s all fail simultaneously.
Hotel rooms and cigarettes, I am an unpaid whore! Appreciate me, motherfucker! It has cost me so much to be here; you will lose me if you don’t take care.
Black pants, brown wallets: book shelf, red wine: I’m four years old,how come you look this young? My marriage is due soon. I have always being a victim of fucking people who are about to get married or already married.
Being a girl is hard! No wonder ladies want to be feminist so bad; so badly, fuck me and give me money—I swear, I am broke. I will buy a wrapper for my mother from the money you will give me: don’t we all love our mothers?
Bitter woman I constantly am, suddenly I am forgiving, and I don’t know who I am anymore. How can I thirst without being poor? Who wants a baby these days? How did I fuck someone I met on the first day, someone who doesn’t even connect to me? I am a whore, I swear!
Mothers are funny, I can trade mine for gold, draw a tattoo of her on my skin next to dad. I am 21 and not free, I am glorified and not weak; don’t ever call me meek.
Ancient city indeed, dirt is all I see. I should be mad about his girlfriend; pretty fair little thing, I should be mad about nudes and galleries, tables and stationeries, but what is there to be mad about? I was just a fuck-me girl, no destination, no purpose, doyoupaywell I asked? My emotions drift to oblivion.
I used to proud of my breast, now I hate it. I hate a lot of things; let me live through. I’m too young for what I am facing, I will take a picture of my naked self when I turn 22. Say a prayer for me or two. It is hard being a girl; I want to just be Human.
Heels and scissors: creams and seizures, I made a video of my cummings. Callmedaddy, wear a black pant and make another video: five thousand, daddy.
Look for a purpose, mysisterwarns you are not getting younger: you are a girl, age is not your friend. I am human, I replied; don’t ever call me a girl.
I bought a wrapper for my mother from the money I made through fucking, she did not thank me for it, she was more bothered then she was happy.
Being a girl is hard! My vagina is sore from too many clients; prostitutes should be recognised by the government, it hard to be a pleasure giver.
Let me kill a baby, let me wet my tongue with fire: breast will fall, cheek bones will sag and the world will crash: I will forever be human.
I now take marijuana: I like the peace, the feeling that it leaves me with; weightlessness, floating. I was happy for her, more than happy I was pained that she so judged me for what she now find solace in. Why can’t we be human? Why do we judge when we don’t even trust ourselves? In Lyn Hejinian voice, Religionis vague andlowing, everyday I ask questions that nobody seems to know the answer to. It is funny than sad that humans should be neutral, neutral to things, people, places, food, everything! That is who I am, want to be.
Music makes me masturbate.
My mother does not deserve me: she’s perfect! The society said to call her so.
In church today my sister said; can’tyou give your phone a break andpray?
Pain is pleasure: she returned the wrapper I bought saying; obedience is better than sacrifice.
I am going back to my vomits.