Transparent.

A thin screen separating
same ol’ thing inside outside.
The more I try to find myself,
the more I find nothing but air.

What is this thing called me?
Why should I pay it any attention?
I see you, I see me, someone worth understanding.
I see me, I see you, why should I be bothered?

I forget the line, I forget the time,
won’t you remember it with me?
I’ve strayed, I’m delayed,
won’t you walk with me a bit?

Time can tell, money can buy,
same age-old story.
Never will end, suddenly it’s done,
the surge that rushes to where?

More or less.

Wanna be what I wanna be.
It ain’t right, it ain’t hiring,
it ain’t hyped, it ain’t typed.
I can be more but I ain’t.
I wish I can be more or less different.

I’m a powerhouse, confused energy.
Someone please bottle me so I can break free.
Rather be a fly, not a rat,
though wild things have my respect.

Say the word make that last.
You can have what you looking at.
Say I don’t give a shit while pleading to the man,
“Come save me, please don’t leave me behind.”

It’s interesting you have a brain,
yet you can’t decide,
to go forward or go back,
something safe or outta the mind.

No talk, no show, no business card,
rather be a punk than a rock star.
Life’s too short for money and cars.
Give me a sec, teach me what is love?

I grow over you.

I thought you were the only one who could read me,
we were two of a kind.
Even after you slapped me twice and sent away my cat.

You said you were treated liked a girl growing up,
that’s why you treat women the way you do,
belittle them to make yourself feel more like a man.

I was told I was a mistake, should’ve been a boy.
You know what, no biggie, kinda used to disappointment.
I suspect you wouldn’t know how to raise a boy anyway.

My mother’s neurotic and she’s not even on the wine.
Got gallbladder stones from all the rage, never been treated kind.
Hollering for justice with all the righteousness of the blind.

I learned to appear calm when the two are howling at each other.
Every time though I feel the tinge of pain some place left to my heart.
I can move out, but somehow, people make me anxious like they gonna explode.

I didn’t want to grow up like this, but I did grow up like this and now
I’m finally in a space of my own. I can do crazy things, meet crazy people
and act I’ve been happy all along. I still doubt. I’m afraid. I’m in control.

I wanna fuck my husband.

I wanna fuck my husband.
I like them a little feminine.
When I have penned up aggression,
here’s someone warm & complying.

He can be the one that gives away,
looking at his face for pleasure or pain,
causing something inside to vibrate,
nothing to be ashamed of cause we married.

It may sounds a little gay,
it’s OK we are both straight (what they say).
He tells me he doesn’t want to go all the way.
I see to it we both get a little taste.

Hey hey hey.