Pleasingly Guilty

Should I feel guilty for being white? Where is the guilt association? Is it copyrighted? Incorporated? Is there a headquarters? Would I be allowed in? Is there a member access only? What if I lose my key? Do I want to join or is it involuntary? Nonprofit? Monopoly? I call the top hat! But am I allowed? I’m privileged. I think. Passing go is a good goal but I just landed in jail. Doubles aren’t in the dice, not in the cards. Guess I’ll wait it out. Or maybe I should pay up.

Skyscraping Scenery

We can walk away from the concrete path where dirt is praised. The greenery is breathtaking or is that the claws around my throat? -- Whoops, never mind it’s just a necktie; I’ll loosen the knot.

Each turn is sharply smooth, angled curves, straightly veered. It’s loud and inviting jittering birds, flashing moonlight. -- Ah, no there’s an eclipse, the light was a lamppost bending from the wind.

Cheshire cat smiles and filed nails are bittersweet in this hazy jungle. A Disney ride on LSD, laughing tightly until you spit. -- But these two aren’t related.

The spittle arose from a sour taste, taste tongue.

Coming undone.

Stark naked in a pantsuit -- You look ravishing my dear.

Underneath, we’re all just savages.

Fem-masoch-ism

I’m tripping on words like a dedicated hippie.  Full of opiated faith and not the slightest bit chaste. Oops, did I do that? Let me pick it up and stumble for show so everyone will know I’m coherent to appreciate all the leers I procreate from the slit in my skirt and the crop of my shirt that doesn’t hide the snide remarks daggered behind my lack of ass, so full of sass and power that I’m showered in these flowers around my neck. A noose of independence dripping in decadence with filth and grime that finds its way under my nails and entails a neon illumination of deterioration in a body of life that lacks strife. To only thrive on being alive and I love all the while continuing to beguile you with my wild child ways.

Say….

Got anymore?