Fucking dead

[creativesoul]

The italian
With armloads of gold
Trying to buy my American ass
I sold it to him
At a fucking discount

I lived the way he commanded me to
His accent and cute remarks
Yeah though I walk through the valley
Of mob bosses and water polo teams
Playboy fold out bitches on salary

I must be polite
And is the fork
Really pretty woman
Big mistake

Renting Melba Moore for the shipping line dinner
Annually

I really am tired of dead husbands
I’m still me: all these years
And you still think I’m going to
Be who you tell me to be

Well fuck me running
Seriously
But it would be so much better
If only I had been someone else

[stilltrucking]

gotta be you
ggotta be me
confessional poetry is double plus good for me

so much pain
so much bullshit
walk a parallel path
find the simplest way
guard your inner pearls

judih

[mnaz]

You are not dead. You are very much alive. And in touch.

[creativesoul]

Awwww thanks

[creativesoul]

Thank you

[creativesoul]

I don’t know if “ feedback “ includes evaluating my performance as a human
Perhaps for me writing helps me “ see” other perspectives in me
And in others
All armchair psychologists are fired
Thanks for the input