sometimes the only thing you know
is fear.
and sometimes i’m a lot for you
my dear.
i was walking through a plot at 13.
found myself wondering
if i could be,
just a little bit older
than i could understand.
like boulders,
beneath these breasts.
or older?
like finishing your senten-
ces.
i wanna be older-
to avoid death.
i was sitting there wonderin’
about money.
like i’m a slave to it too,
honey.
HONEY!
HONEY!
HONEY!
i steal like i’m 8 years old–
with kim and kourt and white oaks mall,
WONDERING.
like squandering!
like THE BROWN LIPSTICK!
and whether or not he knows i ate all his chapstick?
or if my dad’s got that cheap dipstick.
or if i even like dick?
WONDERING?
I’M FUCKING WONDERING!
was it the 90’s that got us wet?
or humor that made us regret.
all the days we spent sophomore
pretty.
who would’ve known we’d be LA
petty.
and so we got nowhere to go
until time gets us going.
but we all be knowing
cuz you kept us blowing–
men.
for money or for not.
you forget that i’m caught
in a landslide or a daydream–
a nightmare or a slay queen?
we’ll be fabulous today, feen.
i’m in love with us
ALL DAY
in between.
(miss america tween 1994
high class prostitute whore.)
I’m out.
count score.
(for Orlando, originally published on Tumblr in 2015)
