Summer is over, so are you, you, and y'all.
You're still here. I'm still a bitch.
In a tree, even the spiders don't bother me.
I got tired of crowds and crowns and befriended a clown.
All these demons I dance with. If only I could look down on humans from 14,000 ft up with those Balenciaga sneakers and my pastel pink lipstick. Free-falling that high up. By the time my Balenciaga's hit the ground, saved again. That's the real baptism. He always saves.
I've never been Eve. Can I relate to red? I will still never join y'all's wolf pack, or be prey. What eats a wolf?
A poisonous spider, maybe? A venomous snake?
Big bad wolf, why aren't you running? Can you feel your legs? Is the poison running through your veins, making you bleed out your eyes? Is the venom making it hard to breathe? Is your pack saving you?
You’re taking your last breath as I’m putting air in these red baloons. I wonder if I was that penny in your thoughts?
Add comment
Comments