Tuesday, October 18, 2016

i am not the real girl.
a girl is only a girl when their favorite color is pink
and when they consistently refer to themselves
with female pronoun.
my brand of pink is rash-red.
i haven't thought of sex in ten days.
my writing is inconsistent.
my bedroom is pink, filled with dolls and perfumes. there isn't anybody to fool- i am not afraid
that i might fail.

think early,
very early,
very very early, knowing so much,
not knowing why i hate pink. pink like
the clitoris.
blue. blue as in tender bruises,
noirished male-parts.