bay area, october

when wine is my blood
i can wake.
"ahh, now this, finally,
will do"
---------------------------------------
sf october summer
im out in the streets: wigs!
dancing! vulgarity!
at some man's house right now who is asleep on pain meds
he thought i was cute
he made me wash my feet and cut my nails
he made me a small bottle of cologne
he asked if i was bored
i ask what's the point of your beauty,
keep what you have or give it away

ive a new pink bob wig
i live under its pink bangs
with folks asking
"is there anything good in there?"
yes! there's me
AND who is touching my neck?

when i grow up i want to be beautiful
and have beautiful things and
say things like "yes"
dragging my fingertips through the store
chest throbbing
this outfit
this outfit could be it

the beautiful are getting ugly
the ugly are getting beautiful

here's to all the anyone's who felt an instance
of feeling not good enough
and who fed it
like a pet
that became bigger and bigger
in secret.

i sat beheld in the light of a doubly dying sun
looking for something that cannot be seen
while the masses cover the hillside
hushed in noise + jabber
waiting
a little wine a little dope
usher in the
stillborn moment.

then all go home
to wait some more.
waiting to be better
and working oh so hard at it.

when man wakes up
ill say "look at me".
it takes this one look
this one spell to
break the masks
that hide our scrambling selves.