Reel

This is a very strange time in my life.
Luckily, you met me earlier.

To adolesce: to ripen,
Apart from that it's not.
It's worse than that -
it's fermenting;
Stewing in our own juices.

This bedroom's been pink since I was nine.
I didn't even like pink.
What?
I'm playing games with myself now.

I.
Want.
To.
Fuck.
But I don't have the balls.
As much as it turns me on,
Pain frightens me,
And let's be honest,
It's the pain I'm frightened of.
I'm that kind of shallow.

Let's do this skeleton dance together:
the knock of joints
and the clash of teeth
and the mess and the stench and the bruises
and love it.
Let's scream so fucking loud
that the capitalisation rewinds.
iF gOD IS LISTENING,
hE CAN COME AGAIN.

And the hand-me-down rebellion
can burn with the pink bedsheets.
Do you know why I'm crying?
I don't why I'm crying.
Tell me why I'm crying.

Let's be torture slow
when we strip off the suits
and the shoes
and the earrings
and the watches
'til I'm just hospital-gown green underwear
and mismatched socks.
It won't fucking matter then
if my bra confuses you
BREAK IT.
BREAK IT LIKE THE ANIMAL YOU ARE.
BREAK IT WITH ALCOHOLIC'S FINGERS.
SCRATCH ME WITH YOUR FUCKING KEY
AND FREE ME.

I've been thinking about me.
I've never worn my hair short.
Maybe one day I'll just take a pair of scissors
and cut it all off.
Let the woman be substandard goods,
So horrifyingly beautiful
like skeletons, Dancing

FUCKING

and fruit
rotting
because ultimately, everything's weird
and ruined
and eye-wateringly disgusting.

BOOM.
Phallic image.
Roll credits.