Trophy

Sometimes I feel like I can run a fucking million miles.
Then I step outside and I can run about 3/4th of a mile.
I have no idea what 3/4th is because I don’t know fractions.
I imagine it’s not much and a very short distance.
Also, it might not be th.

If I were a dog I would howl all night.
If I had big boobs I would wear nipple tassels.
If I were a man I would shake my dick around.
BECAUSE I FUCKING COULD.

I enjoy drinking wine, writing and giggling. Alone.
It’s always awkward with company because they ask, “what are you doing.”

When I stand I always have a bit of a tilt because I think a straight body is strange.
I balance my foot against my thigh and say, “I’m a ballerina.”

I stare at blank screens with this line blinking over
And over
And over.


I feel accomplished when a word doesn’t underline itself in red.
I feel slightly intoxicated when it underlines itself in red.

I dance with my dogs because they make great partners.
I dance alone because I know myself best.
I draw alone because I know myself best.
I write alone because I know myself best.
I dwell because I know I don’t fucking know myself best.

I’m not manipulative.

I am who you portray me to be.
Put me on your fucking pedestal.
I will always crawl down.