Heartache is Cheap

I am a wench.

Waking slowly from my exhaustive week, three new gigs, a wedding to plan, a guy that seems to think I am not terrible, the ongoing series of paintings in the shack of a barn I call my studio which have been saying not such nice things about my dedication to their development, I realize I've been overly concerned about meeting the needs of those around me.

Let's not forget the neighborhood. The neighborhood seems to think that I've been neglecting them, that I owe them a little more of myself.

It's not that I stopped caring, I care an awful lot. Unwilling to apologize for not meeting someone's fantasy version of me, I stopped trying. I cannot live that many versions of me. These days the goal rarefies: be kind; be honest; be yourself as frequently and fully as possible.

Star Fuck

Just a quick note because maybe there exists a person or two out there who wants to know I am still breathing

Most of the time, that's automatic, so yes and my heart beats too

I am a goddamn princess. You know that.

I earn $400 a month most of that going to pay for Starbright Firecracker Boom-Boom, coffee, cigarettes, beer in that order

I am not fancy, I have lost my mind

If there was a cage I would put myself there and let you poke me with sticks
and spit

which sounds mean

but I am suspicious of people who are kind, gentle

because we all know that's a front

at least I do

for now I'd like a cage, or a secret spot far far far from here

where I could let go and inhale the wind against the salt of our skin