white straight ciswoman mid-20s-ish. surrounded by telly. likes words,
I have a hole punch, let's not get big-headed now.
keppps << shallitellyouastory
The neighborhood boys have grown taller
than their absent fathers.
My girl use to be one of the boys,
throat a gun tossed in to a river
fist fight for a mouth
bag of ice for a father.
Then her body grew soft where she did not want it soft
grew full, grew heavy, grew ripe
if the boys see then the boys will become hungry.
My girl avoids mirrors
binds her breasts like a secret
buries the dead in between her legs
every month bleeds like she is a wound
calls out the names of the dead like lottery numbers
and all the names sound like her own.
My girl picks her father from a list of fatherless rappers,
measures her thighs in her bedroom
is on a diet, forever
is a red balloon stolen from a party
deflating in a corner.
Her first kiss, a boy who does not like girls
unless they are face down on a mattress.
My girl has a blank cd for a father,
the back seat of car for a mother.
Once in a basement when the music was on
and she thought no one was looking
and she could not help herself
and the body wanted to move
and the body it did move
and the body became almost sound,
she was wet from the bass in her stomach.
Everyone wanted to be like her,
that splinter in the oversized shirt.
My girl is the knife in the family portrait
the miscarriage at the sleepover
pink bubblegum expanding from a whores lips
riding the carousel with a nose bleed
glitter in a coffin
confetti in the barrel of a gun,
My girl is holy, is sacred, is pure
is clean, is loved, is whole, is beautiful
is worthy, is okay, is alone, is just fine
just the way you are girl
just the way you look babe
with that dirty mouth
and those hands, wherever they have been
and that sadness, whatever caused it
and that anger, wherever it came from
and that fear, who ever brought it
you are my girl, girl, you are me.
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
where does it hurt?
don’t be too clingy
don’t be such a ‘girl’
be a woman
but be hairless like a child
don’t wear skimpy outfits
don’t be such a ‘slut’
but take it off when i ask
don’t assert yourself
don’t be such a ‘bitch’
be nice to me
but don’t be a fucking doormat
don’t be ignorant
don’t be such a ‘bimbo’
but don’t argue your opinion with me
don’t wear make-up ever
don’t be so ‘insecure’
but don’t complain if i don’t like it
“women are weaklings!”
i’m strong enough to carry
your corpse to the woods
realize that time machines
for richstraightwhite men who have
never feared walking down
the street at night.
smoke cigarettes with the luxury
of knowing that
they’ll kill you someday.
throw away your record players
and smash your vinyls into bits
that the jagged edges are
nowhere near as rough as the past
(also, just fucking download spotify already).
get dressed how you want
and eat what you want
and marry who you want
and learn what you want
just because you can.
that whalebone corset looks
prettier tucked away
in the glass case of a museum
than it would wrapped around
squeezing the breath from your lungs
and the roses blooming in your cheeks.
swallow pills instead of
biting your tongue.
you won’t be left in the gutter
or locked away in a tower,
money was always
hard to come by.
if you’re unhappy with where
we can fly, these days.