Nothing exists beyond this time of the former constitution I believed in. The only thing I hold close to my breasts is this little pen I found outside my cage. And I feed myself sesame and water. I am in crippled rage. I can be ostracized. But I am not in any fear.
I am female in a cape in motion waving stench and flesh and my hair so kinky.
Slinky red number and lights behind and sleek permiating. I am a supermodel then I'm not.
An actress and a singer but I don't want to be.
I can dance a facsimile to Madonna. That when I pretend the feeling is ever so fleeting.
But that is when I am free. I don't want to be a wannabe. I express myself to be individually me something that you cunts will never be.