Poem Hunter
VJ (7-23-80 / San Antonio, Texas)


Lash my back
burn my skin
I am bound to fail you somehow
- My ways are not too feminine
Perhaps I do not make you proud?

I rarely wear dresses,
I burp and then blow,
a sailor might blush
at the curse words I know.
My hair is cut short
and a little bit strange,
dramatists quiver
at my emotional range.
I ask absurd questions
you find impolite,
and I'm usually sloshed
by the end of the night.
I crave attention,
I bicker,
I write too much prose.
Conservatives gasp
at the sight of my clothes.
I discuss my old boyfriends,
I slack on my dreams.
You can never be certain
what my comments might mean.
'You don't introduce me! '
I whine all the time -
I'm angry, then tell you
that everything's fine.
I bring up the past
and am scared of the future -
my wrist was just stitched
with three little sutures.
I cost too much money
but want to spend more.
I'm always discussing
becoming a whore.
I played you home movies
that made you feel nauseous.
You've planned out your future
while I rarely am cautious.

These are all things I hope you'll abide
- As I'd still love to have you
along for the ride.

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