I’m not a leg.
Nor a tit, nor a tat, nor a vat for all your stupid jokes.
I’m not a sandwich machine.
I have a vagina.
But I have a head and I hope you can fill that too.
“A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” is what they say
And if I fed you my anger and I fed you my suppression
Your stomach would explode into a million pieces.
The kitchen jokes are over here, the asking-for-it comments about my dress there.
And maybe in the debris you’ll see that one damned piece.
The one with just your name on it.
Flicking through the channels on a sunny day
Wind blowing through my hair as I drive down the road
Breeze tickling my thighs like when I sat in the backseat
Now I’m in the front, both hands perfectly at the wheel
The catchy radio station jingle plays
You know, the one that gets stuck in your head for a week
And a girl starts singing about another young girl
A freshman, and how she makes a friend
That’s sweet…
Oh, so the friend’s life is ruined
The clouds go grey, the world tumbles, everything dies
Because she had sex?
I have friends
I have family
I have good grades
The sun is still fixed up there in the sky
I don’t have a two-ton weight in my gut from the guilt
I’m exactly the same
I just have sex
I also change my radio stations
(Note that this isn’t about me, but from someone else’s POV.)
You’re my best friend.
I sit here waiting for the words that describe you to come to me.
They don’t.
I know they exist, sitting idly in the dictionary
But you know how I feel already.
It’s what’s in between us that I can describe.
It took away my goodnight kisses.
(And good nights in general).
The stability, the ground to walk on.
Knowing someone gets my jokes
And even if they don’t, they can nod along.
And lastly, the ability to cry.
Every time the tears well up inside my ducts,
I think to myself, “Well, at least it isn’t like 2008.
At least I’m used to it now.
At least my pillow has the stains out.”
I miss when I could complain.
I miss when I could bitch and moan.
I miss.
I only want to see you when there’s a cog taken from the machinery.
I don’t want to fix it. That’s not my responsibility.
I just have a fantastic microscope.
It can zoom, it can focus and it can magnify.
Magnify every little flaw in your DNA.
And if I do this under the sun, it’ll break down the machinery.
The cogs will melt together into one liquid mess.
Because I want you to know I’m there for you.
That’s horrible.
Who would even think of doing that?
It disgusts me that other humans are doing this.
I’m mortified.
I’m gonna go watch TV.
That’s pretty bad.
I’ve seen some people do shit like that.
People really need to stop it.
I’m grossed out.
I’m gonna go read a magazine.
That’s not so good.
People do that a lot around here.
I kind of wish they’d stop but it’s pretty funny.
I’m not sure how to feel.
I’m gonna go see a movie.
What’s wrong with that?
It happens all the time.
I find it hilarious when people do that.
I love it.
I’m gonna numb myself further.
